At this moment the eyes of the crowd were diverted towards the camp, whence the sound of horses' hoofs were heard. Soon a troop of riders with the royal banner was seen approaching, Witichis and Hildebad at their head. "Stop!" cried the King from a distance. "Spare the grandchild of Hildebrand! Pardon, pardon!" But the old man pointed to the hill. "Too late, King," he cried; "it is all over with the traitor. So may all perish who forget their nation! The kingdom comes first. King Witichis, and afterwards wife and child and grandchild!" This act of Hildebrand made a great impression upon the army, and a still greater one upon the King. He felt the weight which was given to any demand of the old man by his sacrifice. And with the conviction that resistance had now become much more difficult, he returned to his tent. Hildebrand did not fail to take advantage of the King's humour. In the evening he entered the royal tent with Teja. The husband and wife were sitting silent, hand in hand, on the camp bed; upon a table before them stood the black urn; near it lay a small golden locket, something like an amulet, appended to a blue ribbon; a bronze lamp shed a faint light. As Hildebrand gave his hand to the King, the latter looked into his face, and saw at one glance that he had entered the tent with the fixed resolve to carry out his intentions at whatever cost. All present seemed silently moved by the impending conflict of feeling. "Mistress Rauthgundis," began the old man, "I have to speak of sad things with the King. It will hurt thee to hear them!" Rauthgundis rose, but not to go. Deep pain and earnest love for her husband gave to her fair and regular features a noble and elevated expression. Without removing her right hand from that of her husband, she laid her left gently upon his shoulder. "Speak freely, Hildebrand. I am his wife, and demand the half of these sad words!" "Mistress," the old man repeated. "Let her remain," said the King. "Dost thou fear to tell thy thoughts before her face?" "Fear? no! And though I were forced to tell a god that the people of the Goths was dearer to me than he, I should do it without fear. Know then----" "What! Thou wilt? Spare her, spare her!" cried Witichis, throwing his arms around his wife. But Rauthgundis looked at him quietly and said: "I know all, my Witichis. Yesterday, as I was walking through the camp, unrecognised, in the twilight, I heard the soldiers by the watch-fires blaming thee, and praising this old man to the skies. I listened and heard all. What he demands and what thou refusest!" "And thou didst not tell me?" "There was no danger. Do I not know that thou wouldst never put away thy wife? Not for a crown, and not for that wonderfully beautiful maiden. Who can part us? Let this old man threaten; I know that no star hangs more safely in heaven than I in thy heart." This security made an impression on the old man. He frowned.