"Mother, even now it was not for yourself, only for your crown and throne. Put off the crown and you are free from all care. It has brought us no happiness, only pain. You are not threatened--I would sacrifice everything for you--but only your throne, only the golden diadem, the idol of your heart, the curse of my life! Never will I sacrifice my love to this hated crown, never, never, never!" And she crossed her white arms over her bosom as if she would protect her love thus from all assailers. "Ha!" cried the Queen indignantly, "selfish, heartless child! you confess that you have no feeling for your people, no pride in the crown of your great ancestors! You will not voluntarily obey the voice of honour; well then, obey force! You deny my love? then feel my severity! You will leave Ravenna at once with your attendants. You will go to Florentia, as the guest of Duke Guntharis; his wife has invited you. Earl Arahad will accompany you on your journey. Leave me. Time will bend your stubborn will!" "No power can do that," said Mataswintha, proudly raising her head, and she left the room. The Queen looked after her silently. Her daughter's reproofs had made a greater impression upon her than she was willing to allow. "Ambition?" she said to herself. "No, it is not that which fills my soul. I feel that I could protect my realm and render it happy, and truly I could sacrifice my life, as well as my crown, if the well-being of my nation demanded it. Could I not?" she asked herself, doubtfully laying her hand upon her heart. She was roused from her reverie by Cassiodorus, who entered with bent head and slow steps. "Well," said Amalaswintha, struck by the sad expression of his face, "do you come to tell me of a misfortune?" "No; only to ask a question." "What question?" "Queen," the old man solemnly commenced, "I have served you and your father faithfully for thirty years. I, a Roman, have served the barbarians, for I honoured your virtues, and believed that Italy, no longer capable of self-government, would flourish best under your rule, for your rule was just and mild. I continued to serve you, even when the blood of my best friends--and, as I believe, the most innocent blood--was shed. But they died by law, and not by treachery. I was obliged to honour your father, even where I could not praise him. But now----" "Now? but now?" repeated the Queen proudly. "I come now to beg from my friend, may I say my scholar----" "You may," answered the Queen, softened. "To beg great Theodoric's noble daughter to speak one single word, a 'yes.' If you can say this 'yes.'--and I pray to God that you can--then I will serve you as faithfully as ever, so long as my grey hairs are spared." "And if not?" "And if not, O Queen," answered the old man sadly--"oh, then farewell to you, and to my last joy in this world!" "What have you to ask?"