old man. "They would have forced thee
to do that which I only ask. I kept them back with difficulty."

"Let them come!" cried Witichis. "They can only deprive me of my
crown--not of my wife!"

"Who wears the crown belongs to his people--not to himself!"

"Here"--Witichis took the coroneted helmet and laid it upon the table
before Hildebrand--"once more and for the last time I give thee back
the crown. I did not desire it, God knows! It has brought me nothing
but this urn of ashes. Take it back; let who will be King, and woo
Mataswintha."

But Hildebrand shook his head.

"Thou knowest that that would lead to certain destruction. We are
already split into three parties. Many thousands would never
acknowledge Arahad. Thou alone canst still uphold the kingdom. Wert
thou gone, we should be dissolved. We shall become a bundle of separate
sticks, which Belisarius will break as if in sport. Wouldst thou have
that?"

"Mistress Rauthgundis, canst thou make no sacrifice for thy people?"
asked Teja, drawing nearer.

"Thou too, haughty Teja, against me? Is this thy friendship!" cried
Rauthgundis.

"Mistress Rauthgundis," replied Teja quietly, "I honour thee more than
any other woman on earth, and therefore I ask of thee the greatest of
sacrifices----"

But Hildebrand interrupted him.

"Thou art the Queen of this nation. I know of a Gothic Queen who lived
in the heathen times of our forefathers. Hunger and plague lay heavy on
her people. Their swords were useless. The gods were angry with the
Goths. Then Swanhilde asked counsel of the oaks of the woods, and the
waves of the sea, and they answered: 'If Swanhilde dies, the Goths will
live. If Swanhilde lives, her people die.' And Swanhilde never returned
home. She thanked the gods, and sprang into the flood. But truly, that
was in the hero-time."

Rauthgundis was not unmoved.

"I love my people," she said; "and since these golden locks are all
that remain of my Athalwin"--she pointed to the locket--"I believe I
could gladly give my life for my people. I will die--yes!" she cried;
"but to live and know the man of my heart loving another--no!"

"Loving another!" cried Witichis; "how canst speak thus? Knowest thou
not, that my tortured heart beats ever and only at the sound of thy
name? Hast thou then never felt, never yet, not even at the sight of
this urn, that we are eternally one? What am I without thy love? Tear
my heart out of my bosom, place another in its place;