e at the head of this list, and
let me thereby give them a visible sign of your favour."

She took the golden stylus and the waxen tablets which he handed to
her. For one moment she hesitated; then she quickly signed her name,
and gave tablets and stylus back again. "Here! They must be faithful to
me; as faithful as yourself!"

At this moment Cassiodorus entered. "O Queen, the Gothic nobles await
you. They wish to speak with you."

"I come! They shall learn my will!" she said vehemently; "but you,
Cassiodorus, shall be the first to know the decision to which I have
come during this trying hour, and which will soon be known to my whole
kingdom. Henceforward the Prefect of Rome is the first of my servants,
as he is the most faithful. He has the place of honour in my trust and
near my throne."

Much astonished, Cassiodorus led the Queen up the dark steps.

Cethegus followed slowly. He held up the tablets in his hand, and said
to himself: "Now you are mine, daughter of Theodoric! Your name upon
this list severs you for ever from your people!"

CHAPTER II.

As Cethegus emerged from the subterranean chamber into the ground-floor
of the palace, and prepared to follow the Queen, his ear was caught and
his progress arrested by the solemn and sorrowful tones of flutes. He
guessed what it meant.

His first impulse was to turn aside. But he presently decided to
remain.

It would happen some time, therefore it was best at once. He must find
out how far she was informed.

The tones of the flutes came nearer, alternating with a monotonous
dirge. Cethegus stepped into a wide niche of the dark corridor, into
which the head of a little procession already turned.

Foremost came, two by two, six noble Roman maidens, covered with grey
mourning veils, carrying reversed torches. Then followed a priest,
before whom was borne the tall banner of the Cross, with long
streamers. Next came a troop of the freedmen of the family of Boethius,
led by Corbulo and the flute-players. Then followed, borne by four
Roman girls, an open coffin, covered with flowers. Upon it lay, on a
white linen cloth, the dead Camilla, in bridal ornaments, a wreath in
her dark hair, an expression of smiling peace upon her slightly-opened
lips.

Behind the coffin, with loosened hair, staring fixedly before her, came
the unhappy mother, surrounded by matrons, who supported her sinking
form.

A company of female slaves closed