Sorrowfully but with no reproach in his tone, Gelimer answered: "Yes, the sound man cannot understand why the sick man does not sing and leap. I _must_ 'brood,' as you call it; I cannot do otherwise. Yet often I think my way through. Often I, too, in my way, break through the mists. So now, by fervent prayer, I have again won my way to the old strong consolation. Verus, my confessor, knows these conflicts and the cause of my victory: right is on my side. I am not a usurper, as the Emperor falsely calls me. Hilderic, the assassin, was justly deposed. No guilt cleaves to me; I have done Hilderic no wrong; the Emperor has no injustice to avenge on me. This is my stay, my support, and my staff.--Ah, Verus, we never hear you enter." Zazo measured the priest with a hostile glance. "I came to summon you, O King. There are still some written orders to prepare. Besides, I was to remind you of the prisoners." "Oh, yes. Listen, Zazo; give the consent I have so long asked. Let me release Hilderic and Euages." "By no means," cried Zazo, striding up and down the narrow tent. "On no account. Least of all on the eve of a decisive battle. Shall Belisarius replace him on the throne of Carthage after we have fallen? Or shall he, after we have conquered, be kept continually at the court of Constantinople as a living pretext for attacking us again? Off with the murderers' heads! Where are they?" "Here in the camp, in safe keeping." "And the hostages?" "They were--Pudentius's son among them--confined in Decimum," Verus answered. "After the lost battle, they were freed by the victors." "That might be repeated to-morrow," cried Zazo, angrily. "Amid the tumult of conflict, the foe might easily, for a short time, enter this open camp. I entreat, my King--" "So be it," interrupted the latter, and turning to Verus he ordered: "Have Hilderic and Euages taken away." "Where?" "To some safe place where no Byzantine can liberate them." Verus bowed and hurriedly left the tent. "I will follow you," the King called after him. "Do not judge me too sternly in your hearts, you thoroughly healthy people," he now added in a gentle voice, turning to the others. "I am a tree blasted by the lightning. But to-morrow," he went on, drawing himself up to his full height, "to-morrow, I hope, you shall be satisfied with me. Even you, Hilda! Send me your little harp; I believe you will not regret it." Hilda brought the instrument from a corner of the tent. "Here! But you know," she said, smiling, "its strings will break if any one tries to play on them an accompaniment to Latin verses of penitential hymns." "They will not break. Good-night." The King left the tent. "I think I have seen that harp of plain black wood in some other hand. Where was it?" asked Zazo. "In Ravenna, was it not?"