ry to be clear and composed.

He gently drew near and took Amalaswintha's relaxed hand.

"Rise, noble lady, you belong to the living, not to the dead."

She looked up, startled.

"You here, Cethegus? What seek you here?"

"A Queen!"

"Oh, you only find a weeping mother!" she cried, sobbing.

"That I cannot believe. The kingdom is in danger, and Amalaswintha will
show that even a woman can sacrifice her sorrow to the fatherland."

"She can!" replied the Queen, rising. "But look at him. How young! how
beautiful! How could Heaven be so cruel!"

"Now, or never!" thought Cethegus, and said aloud: "Heaven is just,
severe; not cruel."

"Of what do you speak? What wrong has my noble son committed? Do you
dare to accuse him?"

"Not I! But a portion of Holy Writ has been fulfilled upon him: 'Honour
thy father and mother, that thy days may be long in the land!' The
commandment is also a threat. Yesterday he sinned against his mother
and dishonoured her by bold rebellion--to-day he lies here. Therein I
see the finger of God."

Amalaswintha covered her face. She had heartily forgiven her son while
watching beside his coffin. But still this view, these words,
powerfully affected her, and drew her attention away from her grief to
the well-loved habit of government.

"You wish, O Queen, to suppress my examination, and recall Witichis.
Witichis may be recalled. But I demand, as my right, that the
prosecution be continued, and I fully expect a solemn acquittal."

"I have never doubted your fidelity. Woe to me, should I be obliged to
do so! Tell me that you know of no conspiracy, and all is ended."

She seemed to expect his asseveration,

Cethegus was silent for a short time. Then he quietly said:

"Queen, I know of a conspiracy."

"What say you?" cried the Queen, looking at him threateningly.

"I have chosen this hour and place," continued Cethegus, with a glance
at the corpse, "to put a seal to my devotion, so that it may be
indelibly impressed upon your heart. Hear and judge me."

"What shall I hear?" said the Queen, now upon her guard, and firmly
resolved to allow herself to be neither deceived nor softened.

"I should be a bad Roman, Queen, and you would despise me, if I did not
love my nation above all things. That proud nation, which even you, a
stranger, love! I know--as you know--that hatred against you as
heretics and barbarians still smoulders in the hearts of most Italians.
The last harsh deeds of you