the threshold.

"King of the Goths," he said, as he once again turned round, "is that
your last word?"

"My last; as it was my first," answered the King, with dignity.

"I will give you time--I will remain in Ravenna till to-morrow----"

"From this moment you are welcome as a guest, but not as an
ambassador."

"I repeat: if the city be taken by storm, all the Goths who are taller
than the sword of Belisarius--he has sworn it--will be killed! The
women and children will be sold into slavery. You understand that
Belisarius will suffer no barbarians in _his_ Italy. The death of a
hero may be tempting to you, but think of the helpless people--their
blood will accuse you before the throne of God----"

"Ambassador, you, as well as we, are in God's hand. Farewell."

And these words were uttered with such majesty, that the Byzantine was
obliged to go, however reluctantly.

The simple dignity of the King had had a strong effect upon him; but
still more upon the listening Queen.

As Procopius slowly shut the door, he saw Mataswintha standing before
him, and started back, dazzled by her great beauty. He greeted her
reverently.

"You are the Queen of the Goths!" he said. "You must be she."

"I am," said Mataswintha. "Would that I had never forgotten it!"

And she passed him with a haughty step.

"These Germans, both men and women," said Procopius, as he went out,
"have eyes such as I have never seen before!"

CHAPTER XIX.

Meanwhile, Mataswintha had entered her husband's presence unannounced.

Witichis had left untouched all the rooms which had been occupied by
the Amelungs--Theodoric, Athalaric, and Amalaswintha--and had
appropriated to his own use the apartments which he had formerly been
accustomed to inhabit when on duty at court.

He had never assumed the gold and purple trappings of the Amelungs, and
had banished from his chamber all the pomp of royalty.

A low camp-bed, upon which lay his helmet, sword, and various
documents, a long wooden table, and a few wooden chairs and utensils,
formed the simple furniture of the room.

When Procopius had taken leave, the King had thrown himself into a
chair, and, supporting his weary head on his hands, leaned his elbows
upon the table. Thus he had not noticed Mataswintha's light step.

She remained standing near the door, reluctant to advance. She had
never before sought an interview with her husband. Her heart beat fast,
and