"Here," he said, "take the greatest care of this writing. That upon the parchment cover I myself dictated to Hermegisel over in Majæ. He swore to keep it secret, and he has kept his oath. And now he can speak no more from out of his grave in the church. And thou and Hunibad--you cannot read. That is a good thing, for it might be dangerous for thee and--and another--if any one knew what that roll contains before Totila, the mild and just King, has read it. Above all, hide it carefully from the Italians. And in every town to which thou comest, ask if there dwells Cornelius Cethegus Cæsarius, the Prefect of Rome. And if the door-keepers say aye, then turn upon thy heel, however tired thou mayst be, and however late the night, or hot the day, and wander on until thou hast put three several waters between thee and the man Cethegus. And no less carefully than the writing--thou seest that I have put rosin, such as drops from the fir-trees, upon it instead of wax, and I have scratched our house-mark upon the seal, the mark that our cattle and wagons bear--not less carefully keep this old and costly gold." And he took from the hole the half of a broad gold bracelet, such as the Gothic heroes wore upon their naked arms. He kissed the bracelet and the imperfect Runic inscription upon it reverently. "This came from Theodoric, the great King, and from him--my dear--son Wargs. Mark--it belongs to Adalgoth. It is his most valuable inheritance. The other half of the bracelet--and the half of the inscription--I gave to the boy when I sent him away. When King Totila has read the writing, and if Adalgoth is present--as he must be if he obeys my orders--then call Adalgoth and put half-ring to half-ring, and ask the King to pronounce a judgment. He is said to be mild and wise and clear as the light of day. He will judge righteously. If not he, then no one. Now kiss my darkening eyes, and go and sleep. May the Lord of heaven and all his clear eyes, sun, moon, and stars, shine upon all thy ways. When thou hast found Adalgoth, and when thou dwellest with him in the little rooms of the close houses in the narrow streets of the city, and when it feels too small and close and narrow down there--then both of you think of your childish days up here upon the high Iffinger, and once again the fresh mountain air will seem to blow across your heated brows." Silently, without objection, without fear, without a question, the shepherd-girl listened and obeyed. "Farewell, grandfather!" she said, kissing him upon his eyes; "I thank thee for much love and faithfulness." But she did not weep. She knew not what death was. She went away from him to the threshold of the door, and looked out at the mountain landscape, which now appeared dark and melancholy. The sky was clear, the summits of the mountains shone in the moonlight.