"He on the white horse, the first one."

The gate was flung wide open; Gothic helmets filled the entrance;
torches shone; voices whispered.

"Up with the portcullis!" cried Totila, riding up. Thorismuth looked
anxiously before him, shading his eyes with his hand.

"They assembled yesterday at Regeta," Totila began again. "Theodahad is
deposed, and Earl Witichis----"

The portcullis was slowly raised, and Totila was just about to give his
horse the spur, when a woman rushed from the row of soldiers, and cast
herself before the animal's hoofs.

"Fly!" she cried. "The enemy is before you! the city is taken!"

But she could not finish; a lance penetrated her heart.

"Miriam!" cried Totila, horrified, and checked his horse.

But Thorismuth, who was close behind, and who had long been suspicious,
now reached his arm past the grating, and separated the rope which held
the portcullis up with his sword, so that the portcullis fell with a
loud crash just in front of Totila.

A hail of spears and arrows flew through the portcullis.

"Up with the portcullis!" cried Johannes from within. "Out! Upon them!"

But Totila did not move.

"Miriam! Miriam!" he cried in great grief.

Once more she opened her eyes, with a dying look of love and pain. That
look told everything; it pierced Totila's heart.

"For thee!" she sighed, and fell back.

He forgot Neapolis, danger, and death.

"Miriam!" he cried again, and stretched out both his hands.

An arrow touched his horse's flank; the noble animal reared. The
portcullis began to rise. Thorismuth caught Totila's bridle, wrenched
his horse round, and gave it such a stroke with the flat of his sword,
that it galloped away like the wind.

"Up and away, sir!" he cried, rushing after Totila. "They must be
speedy who would overtake us!"

And the riders flew back on the Via Capuana, the way that they had
come. Not far behind followed Johannes, ignorant of the way, and
confused by the darkness of the night.

Totila's party presently met with the garrison of the Castle of
Aurelian, which was marching towards Neapolis.

They all halted together upon a hill, whence they could see the city
and the ramparts, partially illuminated by the Byzantine watch-fires on
the walls.

Only then did Totila recover from his grief and consternation.

"Farewell, Miriam!" he sighed. "Farewell, Uliaris! Neapolis, I shall
see thee again!"

And he gave orders to march forward to Rome.

But from