ling, "to the inscription on the entrance-slab,
that kept back misfortune."

"Dost thou know _who_ wished to step across it?"

"How should I? I have not left the house."

"Then thou hast no idea how truly thou didst speak! Listen and breathe
again. As I just now was hastening here from the town, on approaching
the hill, I saw fastened to the milestone three horses, and among
them--I know him too well--the black steed of the Tribune! Full of
alarm, I sprang to our gate; there lay--oh, horrible!--two slain Moors,
and, directly across the threshold, stretched on his back, the terrible
Tribune, with a shattered skull! His face was half covered with the
inscription-slab, and the corner-piece, broken off, was deeply embedded
in his skull. _This_ stone has felled him who was never conquered. But
what arm hurled it?"

The old Haduwalt, who at the first mention of conflict had
instinctively looked into the averted face of his young master, now
drew the white mantle from his shoulder, showed the bloody bandage, and
said: "This arm--And I!--Oh, Liuthari, my darling!--I meanwhile lay and
slept!"

"Tolerably firmly," said the young man smiling, and continued, turning
to the master of the house: "Yes, I slew him, that very bold man; he
wished to force his way in, and"----

"Steal Felicitas!" cried the husband, pressing his wife, now terribly
alarmed, to his breast. "Oh, sir, how can we thank thee?" he exclaimed.

But Felicitas could not utter a word; she could only direct her eyes,
swimming in tears, towards her preserver. She had not appeared so
beautiful even in the night.

"Thanks!" laughed Liuthari, "I fought for my life. But listen! who
comes here?"

The steps of armed men were heard in the garden, and there entered,
accompanied by five followers, Garibrand the Duke.

"A good piece of work have you two done out there before the entrance.
The Tribune, whom we have sought everywhere, he fell certainly by thy
hand. I have found thee at last, young hero! Welcome news I bring thee.
A messenger from thy father is seeking thee. The Roman fortress on the
Regan stream has fallen. My cousin, Duke Agilolf, and thy father, have
settled the betrothal: Agilolf invites thee to his halls. Adalagardis,
the most beautiful princely daughter of the Germans, is awaiting thee."

"Hail to thee, thou son of my king! this is thy reward for this night,"
cried Haduwalt.

"Betrothal! I have never seen her!" cried Liuthari, hesitating.

"Be