"Victoria was a grandmother, and, while ruling Gaul with her genius she never dropped her distaff, which she ever plied near the cradle of her grandson; she watched over him as she had done over the child's father, with solicitous firmness; her hope was to render that child also a good citizen and brave soldier. Her hope was dashed. A frightful plot dragged into their graves both the son and grandson of the august woman. They both perished in a popular uprising." "Ha! Ha!" cried Brunhild breaking forth into a burst of sardonic laughter, as if her gathering hatred for the Gallic heroine was assuaged. "Such, then, is the justice of God!" "Such is the justice of God--the crime enabled Victoria to bequeath to the admiration of posterity a noble example of patriotism and abnegation! After the death of her son and grandson, and being urgently requested by the people, the army and the senate to govern Gaul--Victoria refused. Aye," added Loysik in answer to a gesture of surprise that escaped Brunhild, "aye, Victoria refused twice. She designated the men whom she considered worthiest of being chosen chiefs of the country, and rendered to them the all-powerful support of her own popularity and the advice of her exceptional wisdom for the good of the country. Victoria continued to live modestly in her retreat, and so long as her life lasted, Gaul remained powerful and prosperous, rid both of the Romans and the Franks. Victoria died. Her death was the climax of a series of crimes of which her son and grandson were the first victims. The illustrious woman died poisoned." "Ha! Ha!" cried Brunhild breaking forth anew in a burst of sardonic laughter. "Monk--monk--ever the justice of God!" "Ever the justice of God--never was the death of the greatest geniuses that ever shed splendor upon the world wept as the death of Victoria was wept! One would have thought it was the funeral of Gaul! In the largest cities, in the obscurest villages, tears flowed from all eyes. Everywhere these words were heard, broken with sobs: 'We have lost our mother!' The soldiers, those rough warriors of the legions of the Rhine, whose faces a hundred battles had bronzed--those soldiers wept like children. The mourning was universal; imposing as death itself. At Mayence, where Victoria died, the spectacle of sorrow was sublime. Reclining upon an ivory couch draped in gold cloth, Victoria lay in state a week. Men, women, children, the army, the senate crowded the street of her house. Each came to contemplate for a last time in pious grief the august features of her who was the dearest, the most admired glory of Gaul--" "Monk!" cried Brunhild seizing the arm of the venerable old man and seeking to drag him after her; "the executioners must be waiting--" Loysik exerted only the force of inertia to resist the Queen; he remained motionless and continued in a calm and solemn voice: