"Good Goths, I think we have such a man! I will not name him: you shall name him to me. I came here from the distant Alps of our boundary, towards the Karathans, where the wild Turbidus rushes foaming down the rocks. There I have lived for more than the usual days of man, free, proud and lonely. I heard little of the acts of men, even of the great deeds of my own nation, unless a pack-horse laden with salt happened to stray my way. And yet the warlike frame of _one_ of our heroes penetrated even to that desolate height. One who never drew his sword in an unjust cause, and who never sheathed it without victory. His name I heard again and again when I asked: Who will protect our kingdom when Theodoric dies? His name I heard in every victory that we gained, and in every work of peace that was accomplished. I had never seen him. I longed to see him. To-day I have both seen and heard him. I have looked into his eyes, that are clear and mild as the sun. I have heard his words. I heard how he pleaded for right and justice, even for a hated enemy. I heard how he alone, when blind passion carried us away, remained serene and quiet and just. Then I thought in my heart: that man is kingly; strong in war and just in peace; true as steel and pure as gold. Goths! that man shall be our king. Name the man!" "Earl Witichis! yes, Witichis! Hail, King Witichis!" As the unanimous acclamation rang across the plain, a sudden fear fell upon the modest man, who had eagerly listened to the speech of the old orator, and only towards the close suspected that he himself was the man so praised. And as he heard his name ring in this thousand-voiced shout, his only feeling was: "No! this cannot, must not be!" He tore himself away from Teja and Hildebad, who were joyfully pressing his hands, and sprang forward, shaking his head, and, as if to protect himself, stretching forth his arm. "No!" he cried; "no, friends! not that to me! I am a simple soldier, no king. I am perhaps a good tool, but no master! Choose another, a worthier!" And, as if beseeching them, he held out both hands to the people. But the thundering cry, "Hail, King Witichis!" was the only answer he received. And now old Hildebrand advanced, seized his hand, and said in a loud voice: "Cease to resist, Witichis! Who was it who first swore to acknowledge, without hesitation, the man who gained a majority even of one voice? See, thou hast all voices; and wilt thou refuse!" But Witichis shook his head. Then the old man went up to him and whispered: "What? Must I urge thee more strongly? Must I remind thee of that midnight oath and bond; to sacrifice all for the well-being of thy people? I know--I see through thy transparent soul--that the crown is more a burthen to thee than an honour. I suspect that this crown will bring thee great and bitter pain, perhaps more pain than joy; and therefore I ask of thee, that thou accept it." Witichis was still silent and pressed both hands over his eyes.