to Allgunthis all alone."

Hildebad turned back, and soon disappeared into the wine-house.

Presently a slave brought a cup of wine to the young Goth, who
whispered, "Here's to thee, Allgunthis!" and he emptied it at one
draught. Then he took up his lance, and slowly paced to and fro on the
wall.

"I can at least think of her," he said; "no duty can prevent that. When
shall I see her again?"

He walked on, but presently stopped and stood, lost in thought, in the
shadow of the great dark tower, which looked down upon him
threateningly.

In a short time another troop of Goths passed the tower. In their midst
they led a man blindfolded, and let him out at the Porta Honorii.

It was Procopius who had in vain waited for three hours, hoping that
the King would change his mind. It was useless. No messenger came, and
the ambassador left the city ill at ease.

Another hour passed. It had become darker, but not cooler.

Suddenly a strong blast of wind rose from the sea. It drove the black
cloud toward the north with great rapidity. It now hung dense and heavy
over the city. But the sea and the south-eastern horizon were not
thereby rendered clear, for a second and similar wall of cloud closely
followed the first.

The whole sky had now become one black vault.

Hildebad, drowsy with wine, went towards his night-watch at the Porta
Honorii.

"Still at thy post, Fridugern?" he called to the young Goth in passing.
"And still no rain. The poor earth, how thirsty it will be! I pity it!
Goodnight!"

It was insufferably sultry in the houses, for the wind blew from the
scorching deserts of Africa.

The people, alarmed by the threatening appearance of the heavens, came
out of doors, walking in companies through the streets, or sitting in
groups in the courtyards and under the colonnades of the churches.

A crowd of people sat upon the steps of Saint Apollonaris.

And, though the sun had scarcely set, it was already as black as night.

Upon her couch in her bed-chamber lay Mataswintha, the Queen, in a kind
of heavy stupor, her cheeks pale as death. Her wide open eyes stared
into the darkness. She refused to answer Aspa's anxious questions, and
presently dismissed the weeping slave with a motion of her hand.

As she lay thinking, these names passed continuously and monotonously
through her mind: Witichis--Rauthgundis--Mataswintha!
Mataswintha--Rauthgundis--Witichis!

Thus she lay for a long, long time; and it seemed as