Witichis sat for a long time in silent thought. Then he looked up at the sky, seeking in the bright stars a contradiction of the gloomy thoughts which his friend's words had aroused in his mind. He longed for their peaceful and clear light. But during the conversation, clouds had risen rapidly from the lagoons, and covered the sky. All around was dark and dismal. With a sigh, Witichis arose, and filled with sad thoughts, sought his lonely couch. CHAPTER III. While Italians and Goths feasted and drank together in the halls on the ground-floor of the palace at Ravenna, they little suspected that above their heads, in the King's apartments, a negotiation was going on which was to determine the fate of the kingdom. The King had left the banquet early, and had retired to his rooms with the Byzantine ambassador, and, for a long time, the two were occupied in writing and consulting together. At last they seemed to have come to an agreement, and Petros was about once more to read what he had written, when the King interrupted him: "Stop," said the little man, who seemed almost lost in his royal robes, "stop--there is yet another thing." And he rose from his seat, softly crossed the room, and looked behind the curtain at the entrance to see if any were listening. Having reassured himself, he returned, and gently pulled the sleeve of the Byzantine. The light of the bronze lamp flickered in the draught, and fell upon the withered yellow cheeks of his ugly face, as he cunningly screwed up his already small eyes. "Yet another thing. If these wholesome changes are to be made, it would be well, indeed it is necessary, that some of the most daring of my barbarian subjects should be rendered incapable of opposition." "I have already thought of that," answered Petros. "There is that old half heathen, Hildebrand, that coarse Hildebad, and wise Witichis." "You seem to know men well," said Theodahad, "you have looked sharply about you. But," he added, "there is one whom you have not mentioned, one who must be got rid of more than any other." "And he?" "Is Earl Teja, the son of Tagila." "Is the melancholy dreamer so dangerous?" "More so than any of the others. Besides, he is my personal enemy, as was his father before him." "How so?" "His father was my neighbour at Florentia, I wanted his acres. In vain I pressed him to give them up. Ha, ha!" and Theodahad laughed, "they became mine at last! The holy Church dissolved his criminal marriage, confiscated his property, and let me have it cheap. I had deserved well of the Church during the process--your friend, the Bishop of Florentia; can tell you the particulars." "I understand," said Petros. "Why did not the barbarian give his acres up with a good will? Does Teja know?" "He knows nothing. But he hates me merely because I bought his inheritance. He looks black at me, and the gloomy dreamer is just the man to strangle an enemy at the very feet of God Himself."