added.

Athalaric came a step nearer.

"I thank you. And I beg one favour," he added, smiling. "Do not betray
me to my physicians nor to my mother. All day long they shut me up so
carefully, that I am obliged to escape before sunrise. For the fresh
air, the sea-breeze, does me good; I feel that it cools me. You will
not betray me?"

He spoke so quietly. He looked so unembarrassed. This freedom from
embarrassment confused Camilla. She would have felt more courageous if
he had been more moved. She observed his coolness with pain, but not
because she really cared for the Prefect's plans. So, in answer, she
only shook her head in silence, and cast down her eyes.

At that moment the rays of the sun reached the spot on which the pair
were standing.

The old temple and the bronze of the statues shone in the rosy light;
and from the east a broad path of trembling gold was laid upon the
smooth flood.

"See, how beautiful!" cried Athalaric, carried away by his admiration.
"Look at that bridge of light and glory!"

She joined in his admiration, and looked out over the sea.

"Do you remember, Camilla," he continued slowly, as if lost in
recollection, and not looking at her, "do you remember how we played
here when we were children? How we dreamed? We said that the golden
path painted on the waters by the sun, led to the Islands of the
Blessed."

"To the Islands of the Blessed!" repeated Camilla. In secret she was
wondering at the delicacy and ease with which, avoiding every allusion
to their last meeting, he conversed with her in a manner, which
completely disarmed her.

"And look, how the statues glitter, that wonderful pair, AEneas
and--Amala! Listen, Camilla, I have something to beg pardon for."

Her heart beat rapidly. He was going to speak of the rebuilding of the
Villa and the fountain. The blood rose to her cheeks. She remained
silent in painful expectation.

But the youth continued quietly:

"You know how often--you the Roman, and I the Goth--vied with each
other here in praises of the glory and fame and manners of our people.
Then you stood under the statue of AEneas, and told me of Brutus and
Camillus, of Marcellus and the Scipios. And I, leaning against the
shield of my ancestor Amala, praised Ermanaric and Alaric and
Theodoric. But you spoke more eloquently than I. And often, when the
glory of your heroes threatened to outshine mine, I laughed at your
dead greatness, and cried, 'The living present and