. I prized these Romans more than the best of my people. And they
showed their gratitude by wishing that my crown were the Emperor's;
they wrote flattering letters to the Byzantines; they preferred a
Justinus and a Justinian to the friendship of a Theodoric! I am not
sorry for them; I despise them. Guess again. What didst thou believe?"

"King, thy heir is a youth, and enemies encompass thy throne."

The sick man frowned.

"This time thou art nearer the mark. I always knew the weakness of my
kingdom. When at the evening banquet I have shown the proud face of
confidence to the foreign ambassadors, at night I have anxiously sighed
at its inward disease. Old man, I know that thou hast often considered
me all too confident. But none might see me tremble, neither friend nor
foe. Else my throne had trembled. I sighed only when alone, and have
borne my care in solitude."

"Thou art wisdom itself, my King, and I was a fool!" cried the old man.

"Thou seest," continued the King, stroking the old man's hand, "that I
knew in what I displeased thee. I knew also thy blind hatred of these
Italians. Believe me, it _is_ blind, as was, perhaps, my love of them."
Here he stopped and sighed.

"Why wilt thou distress thyself?"

"No, let me continue! I know that my kingdom--the work of my glorious
and toilsome life--may easily fall. Perhaps owing to my generosity to
these Romans. Be it so! No work of man is eternal, and the error of
over-kindness is easily borne!"

"My great King!"

"But, Hildebrand, one night, as I was lying awake, anxious about the
danger of my kingdom, there rose before my soul the ghost of another
sin! Not of too much kindness, but of bloody force! And woe, woe to me,
if my nation is to be destroyed in expiation of the crime of Theodoric!
His, _his_ image rises before me!"

The sick man spoke with difficulty, and lay for a moment overwhelmed
with emotion.

"Whose image? of whom dost thou speak?" asked the old man softly,
bending over him.

"Odoacer!" whispered the King, and Hildebrand bowed his head.

At last Theodoric broke the painful silence.

"Yes, old friend, this right hand, as thou knowest, struck down the
mighty hero--my guest--at the banquet-table. His hot blood splashed
into my face, and an ardent hate flashed upon me from his filming eyes.
A few months past, during the night I speak of, his bloody, pale and
angry form rose before me like an avenging god. My heart was
contracted, my pulses be