"No. Theodoric the Amelung caused me to be blinded, believing that Alaric, the brother of Thulun, had hired me to murder him. I am a servant of the Balthes, and a follower of Alaric, but I was innocent; and so was my master, the banished Alaric. A curse upon the Amelungs!" he cried with an angry pull at the rudder. "Silence, old man!" said Dolios. "Why should I not say to-day what I have said at every oar-stroke for twenty years? It is the way I beat time. A curse upon the Amelungs!" The Princess looked with horror at the old man, who, in fact, steered the boat with complete security, and as straight as an arrow. His wide mantle and dishevelled hair waved in the wind; all around was fog and silence; only the regular beat of the oars could be heard. Empty air and grey mist enveloped the slight boat. It seemed to Amalaswintha as if Charon was rowing her over the Styx to the grey realm of shades. Shivering, she drew her mantle closely around her. A few more strokes of the oar, and they landed. Dolios lifted the trembling Queen on to the land; but the old man silently turned his boat, and rowed as quickly and unerringly back as he had come. With a sort of dismay Amalaswintha watched him disappear into the thick mist. Suddenly it seemed to her as if she heard the sound of oar-strokes from a second boat, which approached nearer and nearer. She asked Dolios what was the cause of this noise. "I hear nothing," he answered; "you are over-excited. Come into the house." Supported by his arm she climbed the steps, hewn in the rock, which led to the tower-like, loftily-situated villa. Of the gardens, which, as she distinctly remembered, extended on both sides of the narrow path, scarcely the outlines of the rows of trees could be distinguished in the mist. At last they reached the lofty entrance, a bronze door with posts of black marble. Dolios knocked upon it with the hilt of his sword; the stroke reverberated dully through the vaulted halls--the door sprang open. Amalaswintha remembered how she had once entered this door, then almost choked with wreaths of flowers, at the side of her young husband; she remembered with what friendly warmth they had been welcomed by the door-keeper and his wife, at that time also a newly-married couple. The dark-looking slave with tangled grey hair, who now stood before her with a lantern and a bunch of keys, was a stranger to her. "Where is Fuscina, the wife of the late ostiarius? Is she no more in the house?" she asked. "She was long since drowned in the lake," answered the door-keeper indifferently; and went forward with the light. The Princess followed shuddering; she could not help thinking of the cold black waves which had so dismally licked the planks of the little boat. They went on through arched courts and pillared halls; all were empty, as if the inhabitants were dead. Their footsteps echoed loudly in the deserted rooms--the whole villa seemed one vast catacomb.