A closely-fitting mail, made of little scales of gold, betrayed the incomparable figure of the Amazon, yielding to every movement of her heaving bosom. Her under garment, which reached half-way between the knee and ankle, was tastefully made of the white skin of the snow-hare. Her arms were covered by sleeves made of rows of amber beads, which glittered strangely in the evening rays of the southern sunshine. Upon her left shoulder was gravely perched one of the delicate white falcons of Iceland. A small hatchet was stuck into her girdle. She carried over her shoulder a long sweeping harp, surmounted with a swan's head and neck of silver. The Roman populace--their eyes opened wide in wonder--pressed after these singular figures, and even the Goths could not but admire the wondrously fair complexion and the singularly light and sparkling eyes of these northerners. "As the black hero who received me," began the Viking, "assures me that he is not the King, then no other can be he but thou," and he gave his hand to Totila, first pulling off his fighting-glove of shark's skin. "Welcome to the Tiber, my cousins from Thuleland!" cried Totila, as he raised his cup and pledged his guests. Seats were quickly prepared, and the royal visitors took their places at the King's table; their followers at the table near them. Adalgoth poured out wine from tall, two-handled jugs. King Harald drank, and looked wonderingly around. "By Asathor!" he cried; "but it is beautiful here!" "Such I imagine Walhalla to be!" said his companion. The Goths and the northerners could scarcely understand each other. "If it pleases thee so well, brother," Totila slowly said, "then rest amongst us with thy wife for some time." "Ho-ho! Rome-King!" laughed the giantess, and tossed back her head so suddenly, that the waves of her red hair shook. The falcon flew screaming up, and circled round her head three times. It then quietly returned to her shoulder. "The man has not yet been born," continued the Amazon, "who could conquer Haralda's heart and hand. Harald alone, my brother, can bend my arm, and spring and hurl his spear farther than I." "Patience, my little sister! I trust that soon a man of marrow will master thy coy maidenhood. This King here, although he looks as mild as Baldur, yet resembles Sigurd, the vanquisher of Fafner. You shall vie with each other in hurling the spear." Haralda cast a long look at the Gothic King, blushed, and pressed a kiss upon her falcon's smooth head. But Totila said: "Evil befell, as the singers tell us, when Sigurd strove with the Amazon. Rather let woman greet woman in peace. Give thy hand, Haralda, to my bride." And he signed to Valeria, to whom Duke Guntharis had very imperfectly translated what was said.