He turned to rush from the tent, but quickly, with a threatening look, the old noble barred his way. "Stop, boy! Do not stir from this place. Will you rob your people of certain victory for the sake of a pair of blue eyes?" "I will not rob them of it! I will only appear to-night in the Roman camp,--I alone,--and bear her out of it in these arms, or leave my life there." "Whether you live or die, the secret will be discovered--the surest way to victory in our attack." "You will conquer, with or without Adalo, in other ways. I will save the girl I love before it is too late." He tried to force himself past the Duke, but the old man seized him by both shoulders with an iron grasp and forced him to stand. "And I will accuse you before the popular assembly, like that treacherous king; I will have you hung between two wolves to a bough of the accursed withered yew." "Do what you choose after I have saved her or died with her," cried the frantic youth, wrenching himself free. But, with unexpected strength, the old Duke flung him, reeling, back into the tent. "I will have you bound hand and foot like a madman. You are mad. Freya has bewitched you. Hear it, Adalger, high in Valhalla: Adalo, your son, no longer heeds a hero's duty or manly honor. He must be bound with willow withes, with ropes, that he may not become base and destroy his people for a woman's sake." Agitated, overpowered, crushed, Adalo sank prostrate, his hands clenched in his long locks, moaning: "Bissula--lost--lost!" The Duke, unobserved, cast a keen sympathizing glance at the youth. He saw that he had convinced and conquered him. Adalo went out, grave and thoughtful, to be alone with his grief. * * * * * In the course of the day a messenger secretly conveyed to the Roman camp a letter from Adalo, addressed to Saturninus and Ausonius. The young chieftain, on the pretext of inspecting the farthest outposts, had gone with his envoy from the top of the Holy Mountain through the whole seven fortifications encircling it to the last one at the foot, and then ridden with him into the forest which stretched between it and the Roman camp. Here he awaited the answer, his noble face pale and disfigured by the long mental conflict through which he had passed. When he heard in the distance the hoof-beats of the returning horse (evening had come, and the mountain peaks oh the opposite side of the lake were glowing with crimson light), he ran breathless to meet it. "Well," he cried, "where is the answer to the letter?" "They gave me no answer. Both the Roman generals--for I had them both called, as you ordered--read your letter before me with great, great astonishment. They talked together, with loud exclamations, in words I did not understand, not Roman ones. Then both turned to me, the older one, who was formerly in the country, speaking first: 'Tell your master the answer is: Never.' And the younger man added: 'Not even for this price.'"