d was at once sent to Clovis of their
success, and without delay the king's council was assembled at Chalons,
and preparations made for the marriage.

Meanwhile, news startling to Clotilde had reached Geneva. Aridius was on
his way back. He had arrived at Marseilles, and was travelling with all
speed towards Burgundy. The alarmed woman, in a fever of impatience,
hastened the departure of the Franks, seemingly burning with desire to
reach the court of the king, really cold with fear at the near approach
of the shrewd Aridius, whose counsel she greatly dreaded. Her nervous
haste expedited matters. Gondebaud formally transferred her to the
Franks, with valuable gifts which he sent as a marriage portion, and
the cortege set out, Clotilde in a covered carriage, her attendants and
escort on horseback. And thus slowly moved away this old-time
marriage-train.

But not far had they left the city behind them when Clotilde's
impatience with their slow movement displayed itself. She had kept
herself advised. Aridius was near at hand. He might reach Geneva that
very day. Calling to her carriage the leaders of her escort, she said,--

"Good sirs, if you hope to take me into the presence of your lord, you
must find me better means of speed than this slow carriage. Let me
descend, mount on horseback, and then away as fast as we may. Much I
fear that, in this carriage, I shall never see Clovis, your king."

Learning the reason of her haste, they did as requested, and mounted on
one of their swiftest steeds, Clotilde swept onward to love and
vengeance, leaving the lumbering carriage to follow with her female
attendants at its slow will.

She was none too soon. Not long had she left her uncle's court before
Aridius reached it. Gondebaud, who had unbounded respect for and
confidence in him, received him joyfully, and said, after their first
greetings,--

"I have just completed a good stroke of policy. I have made friends with
the Franks, and given my niece Clotilde to Clovis in marriage."

"You have?" exclaimed Aridius, in surprise and alarm. "And you deem this
a bond of friendship? To my poor wit, Gondebaud, it is a pledge of
perpetual strife. Have you forgotten, my lord, that you killed
Clotilde's father and drowned her mother, and that you cut off the heads
of her brothers and threw their bodies into a well? What think you this
woman is made of? If she become powerful, will not revenge be her first
and only thought? She is not f