himself than to Eugenia.

"Verus of course knows nothing of that," Hilda went on. "Yet he smiled
strangely as he said: 'You are the right bearer of this message and my
errand to the King.' I did not linger. I bring you war, and--I feel it,
O King of the Vandals--certain victory; read."

Gelimer unrolled the parchment, whose seal had been broken, and
motioning to a torch-bearer, read aloud:

"'To Gelimer, who calls himself the King of the Vandals--'"

"Who is the insolent knave?" interrupted Zazo.

"Goda, formerly Governor, now King of Sardinia."

"Goda? The scoundrel! I never trusted him," cried Zazo.

"'Since, by a false accusation, you have dethroned and imprisoned King
Hilderic, I refuse you allegiance, usurper. You credulous fools forgot
that I am an Ostrogoth; but I never did. Almost the only one left alive
in the massacre of my people, I have since thought only of vengeance.
In blind confidence you gave me this governorship; but I have won the
Sardinians, and shall henceforth rule this island as its sovereign. If
you dare to attack me, I shall appeal, and I have received the promise
of the great Emperor Justinian's protection. I would far rather serve a
powerful Imperator than a Vandal tyrant.'

"Ay, this is war!" said Gelimer, gravely. "Certainly with Sardinia.
Perhaps also with Constantinople, though the last letters from there
spoke only of peace. Did you hear it?"--he now turned with royal
dignity to the nobles. "Did you hear, you nobles and people of the
Vandal race? Shall I tell the rebel, shall I write to the Emperor:
'Take and keep whatever you desire! Genseric's descendants shrink from
the weight of their weapons'? Will you now continue to hold festivals
in the Circus, or will you--"

"We will have war!" loudly shouted the giant Thrasaric, forcing his way
swiftly through the group of nobles. "O King Gelimer, your deed, your
words, the sight of this glorious woman, and that bold traitor's
insolent letter have again waked in me--surely, in us all--what, alas!
has slumbered far, far too long. And like the effeminate ornament of
these roses,"--he snatched the wreath from his head and hurled it on
the ground,--"I cast from me all the enervating, corrupting pleasures
and luxuries of life. Forgive me, my King, great King and hero. I will
atone. Believe me, I will make amends in battle for the wrongs I have
done."

Stretching out both hands, he was bending the knee. But the King drew
him to his breas