and the camp; I penetrated the paths to your hiding-place; I
entered it as softly as I once departed from the dwelling where my
children were slain! In my just vengeance I have treated you as
treacherously as you would have treated me! Remember your murdered
brother; remember the child I put into your arms wounded and received
from them dead; remember your broken oaths and forgotten promises, and
make to your nation, to your duties, and to me, the atonement--the last
and the only one--that in my mercy I have left in your power--the
atonement of death.'

Again she paused, and again no reply awaited her. Still the Goth
neither moved nor spoke, and still Antonina--kneeling unconsciously
upon the sword, now useless to him for ever--continued to stanch the
blood on his hands with a mechanical earnestness that seemed to shut
out the contemplation of every other object from her eyes. The tears
streamed incessantly down her cheeks, but she never turned towards
Goisvintha, never suspended her occupation.

Meanwhile, the fire still blazed noisily on the cheerful hearth; but
the storm, as if disdaining the office of heightening the human horror
of the farm-house scene, was rapidly subsiding. The thunder pealed
less frequently and less loudly, the wind fell into intervals of
noiseless calm, and occasionally the moonlight streamed, in momentary
brightness, through the ragged edges of the fast breaking clouds. The
breath of the still morning was already moving upon the firmament of
the stormy night.

'Has life its old magic for you yet?' continued Goisvintha, in tones of
pitiless reproach. 'Have you forgotten, with the spirit of your
people, the end for which your ancestors lived? Is not your sword at
your feet? Is not the knife in my hand? Do not the waters of the
Tiber, rolling yonder to the sea, offer to you the grave of oblivion
that all may seek? Die then! In your last hour be a Goth; even to the
Romans you are worthless now! Already your comrades have discovered
your desertion; will you wait till you are hung for a rebel? Will you
live to implore the mercy of your enemies, or, dishonoured and
defenceless, will you endeavour to escape? You are of the blood of my
family, but again I say it to you--die!'

His pale lips trembled; he looked round for the first time at Antonina,
but his utterance struggled ineffectually, even yet, against unyielding
despair. He was still silent.

Goisvintha turned from him disda