d Theodahad, alarmed. "I know nothings about such things!
Where is Gothelindis? She, and she alone, can help us."

"And the Prefect," added Petros; "send for both of them."

Gothelindis and Cethegus were summoned from the banquet. Petros told
them what the Princess had said, but without mentioning the treaty as
the cause of her outburst. He had scarcely finished speaking, when
Gothelindis cried, "Enough! She must not go. Her every step must be
watched. She must speak neither to Goth nor Roman; she must not leave
the palace. That least of all!" And she hurried away to place
confidential slaves at the doors of Amalaswintha's apartments.
Presently she returned.

"She is praying aloud in her cabinet," she cried contemptuously. "Rouse
yourself, Cethegus, and let us thwart her prayers."

Cethegus, leaning against the wall, had observed all these proceedings,
and listened to all that was said in thoughtful silence. He saw how
necessary it was that he should once more take the reins into his own
hands, and hold them more firmly. He saw Byzantium pressing more and
more into the foreground--and that he could not suffer.

"Speak, Cethegus," Gothelindis repeated. "What is most necessary?"

"Clearness of purpose," he answered, standing erect. "In every
contract, the particular aim of each of the contracting parties must be
plain. If not, they will continually hinder each other by mistrust. You
have your aims, I have mine. Yours are evident--I have already told you
what they are. You, Petros, wish that Emperor Justinian should rule in
Italy in place of the Goths. You, Gothelindis and Theodahad, wish so
also, on condition that you receive a rich recompense in revenge, gold,
and honours. But I--I too, have my private aim. What is the use of
denying it? My sly Petros, you would not long believe that I was only
ambitious of serving as your tool, and of being a senator in Byzantium.
I, too, have my aim, and all your threefold cunning would never be able
to discover it, because it lies too close to your eyes. I must betray
it to you myself. My petrified heart still cherishes one ideal: Italy!
and I, like you, wish the Goths well out of this country. But I do not,
like you, wish that the Emperor should step unconditionally into their
shoes. I do not want the deluge instead of the shower. I, the
inveterate Republican, would like best--you know, Petros, that we were
both Republicans at eighteen years of age, and I have remained so; but