his last Amelung is no more----"

"Then the followers of Theodoric are free from their oath."

"Perhaps," said Witichis, "it is fortunate that your oath spares us the
choice, for we certainly wish for no ruler whom thou canst not
acknowledge. Let us then go and pacify the people; and let us bear with
this King as long as it is possible."

"But not an hour longer!" cried Teja, and went away in anger.

CHAPTER II.

The very same day Theodahad and Gothelindis were crowned with the
ancient crown of the Goths.

A splendid banquet, at which all the Roman and Gothic dignitaries of
the court and city were present, enlivened the old palace and the
usually quiet gardens, with which we have become acquainted as the
scene of Athalaric's and Camilla's loves.

The revel lasted until deep into the night.

The new King, no friend of the cup, or of barbaric revelry, had retired
early.

Gothelindis, on the contrary, sunned herself in the glory of her new
rank. Proudly she sat upon her high seat, the golden circlet on her
dark hair. She seemed all ear for the loud hurrahs with which, again
and again, her own and her husband's names were greeted. But most of
all she enjoyed the thought that these shouts would penetrate into the
royal vault, where Amalaswintha, her hated and conquered rival, sat
mourning by the sarcophagus of her son.

Among the crowd of such guests as need only a full cup to make them
merry, many a grave face was to be seen; many a Roman who would rather
have seen the Emperor Justinian upon the throne at the head of the
table; many a Goth who, in the present precarious condition of affairs,
could not do homage to such a King as Theodahad without anxiety.

To these last belonged Witichis, whose thoughts seemed far absent from
the splendid scene around him. The golden cup before him stood
untouched, and he scarcely noticed the loud exclamations of Hildebad,
who sat opposite him.

At last--the lamps were long since lit, and the stars stood in the
sky--he rose and went into the greeny darkness of the garden. He slowly
wandered through the taxus-walks, his eyes fixed upon the sparkling
luminaries. His heart was with his wife, with his child, whom he had
not seen for months.

He wandered on unconsciously, until at last he came to the little
Temple of Venus by the quay, with which we are already acquainted.

He looked out over the gleaming sea. All at once something shining at
h