struck off his head in the open market-place, and all the people were terrified at King Totila's justice. Now, my faithful Brun, thou mayest rest here; here no one will hurt thee. I have even ornamented _his_ neck with flowers to-day, in honour of thee and thy bride." She slightly struck the powerful dog on the head; he immediately went up to the King's throne, and laid his left fore-foot confidingly upon the King's knee. And the King gave him water to drink out of a flat, golden dish. "For golden fidelity a golden dish," he said. "But who is thy brother?" "Well," the girl answered thoughtfully, "from what Hunibad told me during the journey and upon his sick-bed, I think that the name my brother bears is not his real one. But he is easy to be known," she added, blushing. "His locks are golden-brown; his eyes are blue as these shining stones; his voice is as clear as the note of the lark; and when he plays his harp, he looks up as if he saw the heavens open." "Adalgoth!" cried the King. "Adalgoth!" repeated all the guests. The boy--he had heard the loud shout of his name--flew up the steps. "My Gotho!" he exclaimed in a jubilant voice, and locked her in a tender embrace. "Those two belong to each other," said Duke Guntharis, who had followed the youth. "Like the dawn and the rising sun," added Teja. "But now," said the girl, as she quietly withdrew from Adalgoth's arms, "let me fulfil my errand and the behest of my dying grandfather. Here, O King, take this roll and read it. In it is contained the fate of Adalgoth and Gotho; the past and the present, said our grandfather." CHAPTER XII. The King broke the seals and read: "'This is written by Hildegisel, the son of Hildemuth, whom they call "the long;" once priest, now castellan at Teriolis. Written at the dictation of old Iffa; and it is all written down faithfully. Lo!--now it begins! The Latin is not always as good as that sung in the churches. But thou, O King, wilt understand it. For where it is bad Latin it is good Gothic. Lo!--now it really begins. Thus speaks the old man Iffa: My Lord and King Totila; the roll which is wrapped in this cover is the writing of the man Wargs, who, however, was neither my son, nor was his name Wargs--but his name was Alaric, and he was a Balthe, the banished Duke of----'" A ay of astonishment from all present interrupted the King. He paused. But Duke Guntharis cried: "Then Adalgoth, who calls himself the son of Wargs, is the son of Alaric! whom he himself, in his office of herald, has often, riding through the town on a white horse, loudly summoned to appear. And never saw I a greater resemblance than that between the father Alaric and the son Adalgoth." "Hail to the Duke of Apulia!" cried Totila, with a smile, as he embraced the boy. But, speechless with excitement, Gotho sank upon her knees, her eyes filled with tears, and, looking up at Adalgoth, she sighed: