use the horse in doing so. But
afterwards I rejoiced over it, very, very deeply. Early this morning, a
Moor, not the fugitive, brought the stallion into my courtyard. The lad
I had saved was Sersaon, Cabaon's famous grandson. Cabaon, in his
gratitude, sent me the magnificent horse."

"But must not you return him to Modigisel?"

"Perhaps so. On no account--never, never--would I have kept the animal.
I would rather have the devil in my stable; I would rather ride the
steed of hell!"

"Why?"

"Why? Why? You ask why?" cried Thrasaric, joyously. "Then you do not
know?"

"If I knew, I would not ask," said Hilda, calmly.

But she was startled by the effect of these words; the gigantic man
threw himself on his knees before her, pressing her hands till she
could almost have screamed with pain, as he cried: "That is glorious,
that is divine!" But the next instant he sprang up again, saying
mournfully, "Alas! This is even worse. Now I must tell her myself.
Forgive me. No, I am not mad. Just wait. It is coming.--So I ordered
the horse to be led at once to Modigisel. The slave returned
immediately with the message that Modigisel was dead."

"Then it is true? The day before yesterday in perfect health! How is it
possible?"

"Astarte, of course. You know nothing about such creatures. His
freedwoman and friend; she lived in the next house. It is very strange.
The slaves say that after--after returning from the Grove of the Holy
Virgin," he stammered the words with downcast eyes, "Modigisel and
Astarte had a violent quarrel. That is, she did not make an outcry--she
said very little; but she demanded for the thousandth time her complete
freedom. Modigisel had reserved numerous rights. He refused, shouted,
and raged; he is said to have beaten her. But yesterday they made
friends again. Astarte and the Gundings dined with him. After the
banquet they strolled about the garden. Before their eyes Astarte broke
four peaches from a tree. She and the two Gundings ate three of them;
Modigisel the fourth. And, after eating it, he dropped dead at
Astarte's feet."

"Horrible! Poison?"

"Who dares to say so? The peach grew on the same tree with the others.
The Gundings bear witness to it; they do not lie. And the Carthaginian
is impenetrably calm, even now."

"You have seen her, have talked with her?"

The powerful warrior flushed crimson: "She came to my house at once,
from the dead man. But I--well--she went away again very soon.