"And it is folly to believe it," cried Hilda. "O Gelimer, thou hero, grandson of Genseric, does not every pulsation of your heart give the lie to this gloomy delusion." She sprang up, throwing back her flowing hair and fixing a fiery glance upon him. "Sometimes, doubtless, fair leader of the Valkyrie," replied Gelimer, smiling. "And especially since--since God saved me by a miracle. And fear not, granddaughter of Hildebrand, you will have no cause to be ashamed of your brother-in-law, the Vandal King, when the tuba of Belisarius summons us to battle." He raised his noble head, clenching his fist. "Oh, joy to us, my husband," cried Hilda, "that is still the inmost care of his being--the hero!" And she eagerly pressed her husband's hand. "Who knows the inmost care of his own being?" Gelimer went on. "At that time--and for years after--all joy in the pomp and glitter of arms was over for me. I was so ill! At that second oracle the convulsions returned; and later they came very frequently, so that my father was compelled to yield to my earnest desire, for I was not yet fit for military service. I was permitted to enter a monastery of the monks of our religion as a pupil, and to remain there in the solitude of the desert. I spent many years within those walls, and during that time I burned all the war songs which I had written in our language to sing to the accompaniment of the harp." "Oh, what a shame!" exclaimed Hilda. "But a few were preserved by the lips of our soldiers," said Gibamund, consolingly; "for instance,-- "'Grandsons most noble Of ancestors noblest, Ancient blood of the Asdings, Gold-panoplied race Of mighty Genseric, To ye hath descended The Sea-Kings' power.'" "And the fatal harvest of his sins!" said Gelimer, bowing his head gloomily. He was silent for a time, then he began again,--