"Forgive us all," cried the nobles, surging in passionate excitement toward the King. Gelimer, deeply moved, held out both hands, which they eagerly clasped. "Oh, Hilda," said Thrasaric, "you were waked at the right time. This is, in great measure, your work." Before the Princess could answer, he drew Eugenia from the clump of myrtles, into which she had shyly retreated. "Do you remember this little maid, my King? You nod? Well--I have won her for my wife. Not by force! She will say so herself; she loves me. It is hard to believe, isn't it? But she will say so herself. The priest has blessed our union in the presence of all the people. Marry us according to your ancient royal right." The King smiled down upon the bride. "Well, then! Let this marriage be the symbol of reconciliation, the uniting of the two nations. I will--" But a woman's haughty figure had forced a way through the crowd to Eugenia's side; a purple mantle gleamed in the red glare of the torches. Bending to the delicate, slender girl, she whispered something in her ear. Eugenia turned pale. The woman's low, hissing tones ceased, and she pointed with outstretched arm to the Numidian road, down which the stallion had vanished. "Oh, can it be?" moaned the bride, interrupting the King's words; she tried to move away from Thrasaric's side, but her feet faltered. She sank forward fainting. Soft arms received her. It was Hilda, the Valkyria who had just exulted so eagerly in the thought of battle. Holding the light figure to her bosom with her left arm, she extended her right hand as if to protect her against Thrasaric, who in bewilderment wished to seize her. "Back," she said sternly. "Back! Whatever it may be that has bowed this lily's head, she shall first lift it again upon my breast and under my protection. It was a wrong not easy to forgive to celebrate a wedding with a Eugenia here in the Grove of Venus." A withering glance wandered over Astarte, without resting upon her. "Thrasaric, decide for yourself. Are you worthy to lead this bride home now, from this place?" The giant's powerful figure trembled; his broad chest heaved; he panted for breath, then, sighing deeply, he shook his head and buried it in the folds of his cloak. "Eugenia shall stay with me," said Hilda, gravely, pressing a kiss on the pale brow of the reviving girl. Thrasaric cast one more glance at her, then vanished in the throng. Modigisel rushed angrily toward Astarte. "Serpent!" he cried with no trace of lisping. "Fiend! What did you whisper in the poor girl's ear?" "The truth." "No! He never really, seriously meant it. And the stallion has gone to the devil; my game is over." "Mine is not." "But you shall not. I am ashamed of the base trick." "I am not," she answered with a short laugh, gazing after Thrasaric. "Obey, slave, or--"