"He lost his senses again," Wachis continued; "I carried him in my arms home to his mother. Once again he opened his eyes while lying on her lap. A greeting to you was his last breath." "And my wife? Is she not desperate?" "No, master; that she is not. She is of gold, but also of steel. When the boy had closed his eyes, she silently pointed out of the window to the right. I understood her. There stood the neighbour's house. And I armed all your servants and led them there to take revenge. We laid the murdered boy on your shield and bore him in our midst. And Rauthgundis went with us, a sword in her hand, following the corpse. We laid the boy down before the gates of the villa. Calpurnius had fled on his swiftest horse to Belisarius. But his brother and his son and twenty slaves stood in the courtyard. They were just about to mount and follow him. We uplifted the cry of murder three times. Then we attacked them. We killed them _all_, _all_, and burnt the house down over the inhabitants. Meantime Rauthgundis looked on without a word, keeping watch by the little corpse and leaning on her sword; and the next day she sent me on beforehand to tell you. Shortly after, as soon as she had burnt the little corpse, she followed me. And as I have lost a day, being hindered by the rebels from taking the shortest road, she may arrive at any hour."' "My child, my child! my poor wife! This is the first produce of this unhappy crown! And now," he cried to the old man, with all the impetuosity of pain, "wilt thou still demand that cruel sacrifice? that unbearable sacrifice?" Hildebrand slowly rose. "Nothing is unbearable that is necessary. Winter is bearable, and age, and death. They come, and we bear it. Because we must. But I hear the voices of women, and rustling garments. Let us go." Witichis turned from him to the door. There, under the lifted curtain of the tent, stood Rauthgundis, his wife, dressed in grey garments and a black veil, and pressing a small black urn to her bosom. A cry of loving pain and painful love; and the husband and wife were locked in a close embrace. Silently the witnesses left the tent. CHAPTER XV. Outside Teja held the old man back by his mantle. "Thou torturest the King in vain," he said. "He will never consent. Now least of all!" "How dost thou know?" interrupted the old man. "Peace; I guess it. As I guess all misfortune." "Then thou wilt also acknowledge that he _must_ consent." "He--_he_ will not do it." "But--thou meanest her?" "Perhaps!" "She will!" cried Hildebrand. "Yes, she is a wonder of a woman," answered Teja. While, during the next few days, the now childless pair lived in quiet seclusion, and Witichis scarcely ever left his tent, it happened that the outposts of the royal besiegers and the sentries of the Gothic garrison of Ravenna--taking advantage of the armistice which, as a matter of fact, had ensued--entered into frequent communication.