A burst of applause rewarded his song, during which a Roman youth and a Gothic maiden, kneeling before Totila and Valeria, offered each a crown of roses, laurels, olive-leaves and oak-leaves. "_Our_ songs are also not quite without sweetness, Valeria," said Totila with a smile, "and not without strength and truth. I owe my life to this youthful minstrel." And he laid his hand upon Adalgoth's head. "He struck thy countryman Piso, his colleague in the art of song, most roughly upon his clever scanning fingers--as a punishment for having written many a verse to my Valeria and raised the deadly steel against me with one and the same hand!" "There is one thing that I would rather have heard, my Adalgoth," Teja said to the boy in a low voice, "than your song of praise." "What is that, my Earl of harp and sword?" "The death-cry of the Prefect, whom thou hast only sent to hell in thy verse." But Adalgoth was called away down the steps by a crowd of Gothic warriors, who would not part with him for a long time; for his song pleased the Gothic heroes who had fought with Totila much better than it will perhaps please you, my reader. Duke Guntharis embraced and kissed Adalgoth and said, as he drew him aside: "My young hero! What a resemblance! Whenever I see thee my first thought is: Alaric!" "Why, that is my battle-cry!" said Adalgoth, and, engaged in conversation, they disappeared amid the crowd. At the same time the King looked back at the vestibule of the villa, for the performance of the flute-players stationed there was suddenly interrupted. He quickly perceived the cause and started from his seat with a cry of astonishment. For between the two centre and flower-wreathed columns of the entrance stood a form which seemed scarcely human. A maiden of wondrous beauty, clad in a pure white garment, holding a staff in her hand, and with a wreath of star-like flowers upon her head. "Ah! what is that? Lives this charming figure?" the King asked. And all the guests followed the direction of the King's eyes and the movement of his hand with equal wonder, for the small opening left between the pillars by the masses of flowers was filled up by a more lovely form than their eyes had ever beheld. The child, or girl, had fastened her shining white linen tunic upon her left shoulder with a large sapphire clasp; her broad golden girdle was set with a row of sapphires. The long and pointed sleeves of her dress fell from her shoulders like two white wings. Wreaths of ivy were twined about her whole figure; in her right hand, which rested on her bosom, she held a shepherd's staff, wreathed with flowers; her left hand carried a beautiful crown of wild-flowers and was laid upon the head of a large shaggy dog, whose neck was likewise surrounded with a wreath.