"I have not to argue with thee! Witichis, I ask thee before Teja--thou knowest how things stand: without Ravenna we are lost: Mataswintha's hand alone can open its gates--wilt thou take this hand or not?" Witichis sprang from his seat. "Yes, our enemies are right! We are barbarians! Before this heartless old man stands a splendid woman, unparalleled for her griefs as for her fidelity; here stand the ashes of her murdered child; and he would drag her husband away from this wife and these ashes to form another union! Never--nevermore!" "An hour ago representatives of all the thousands of the army were on their way to this tent," said the old man. "They would have forced thee to do that which I only ask. I kept them back with difficulty." "Let them come!" cried Witichis. "They can only deprive me of my crown--not of my wife!" "Who wears the crown belongs to his people--not to himself!" "Here"--Witichis took the coroneted helmet and laid it upon the table before Hildebrand--"once more and for the last time I give thee back the crown. I did not desire it, God knows! It has brought me nothing but this urn of ashes. Take it back; let who will be King, and woo Mataswintha." But Hildebrand shook his head. "Thou knowest that that would lead to certain destruction. We are already split into three parties. Many thousands would never acknowledge Arahad. Thou alone canst still uphold the kingdom. Wert thou gone, we should be dissolved. We shall become a bundle of separate sticks, which Belisarius will break as if in sport. Wouldst thou have that?" "Mistress Rauthgundis, canst thou make no sacrifice for thy people?" asked Teja, drawing nearer. "Thou too, haughty Teja, against me? Is this thy friendship!" cried Rauthgundis. "Mistress Rauthgundis," replied Teja quietly, "I honour thee more than any other woman on earth, and therefore I ask of thee the greatest of sacrifices----" But Hildebrand interrupted him. "Thou art the Queen of this nation. I know of a Gothic Queen who lived in the heathen times of our forefathers. Hunger and plague lay heavy on her people. Their swords were useless. The gods were angry with the Goths. Then Swanhilde asked counsel of the oaks of the woods, and the waves of the sea, and they answered: 'If Swanhilde dies, the Goths will live. If Swanhilde lives, her people die.' And Swanhilde never returned home. She thanked the gods, and sprang into the flood. But truly, that was in the hero-time." Rauthgundis was not unmoved. "I love my people," she said; "and since these golden locks are all that remain of my Athalwin"--she pointed to the locket--"I believe I could gladly give my life for my people. I will die--yes!" she cried; "but to live and know the man of my heart loving another--no!"