ne, "we are agreed."

He wrote upon a waxen tablet a briefly-expressed order for the return
of Belisarius to Byzantium, and gave it to the Prefect.

"You may send the message yourself."

Cethegus read it carefully.

"It is well," said he, putting the tablet into the bosom of his dress.
"We are Agreed."

"When will Italy proceed against the barbarians?" asked Petros.

"In the first days of the next month. I shall now go to Rome.
Farewell."

"You are going? Will you not help us to get rid of Amalaswintha? You
will take pity on her again?" asked the Queen, in a reproachful voice.

"She is condemned," said Cethegus, turning as he reached the door. "The
judge goes; the executioner will perform his duty." And he left them
with a proud mien.

Theodahad, who had listened to all that had passed in speechless
astonishment, now caught the hand of Petros in great alarm.

"Petros," he cried, "for God's sake, what have you done? Our contract,
and everything else, depends upon Belisarius; and you send him away?"

"And allow that insolent man to triumph?" added Gothelindis
indignantly.

But Petros laughed; his whole face beamed with the ecstasy of
victorious cunning.

"Be quiet," he said. "This time the invincible Cethegus is conquered by
Petros, at whom he has always scoffed."

He took Theodahad and Gothelindis each by the hand, drew them close to
him, looked round, and then whispered:

"At the commencement of the message to Belisarius I have placed a small
spot, which means: 'All that I have written is not meant in earnest,
and is null.' Yes, yes; one learns the art of writing at the court of
Byzantium!"

CHAPTER IV.

Amalaswintha passed the two days following this midnight interview in a
sort of real or imagined imprisonment. Whenever she left her chamber,
whenever she turned the corner of one of the passages of the palace,
she fancied that some one followed or accompanied her, now appearing,
now slipping past her, now disappearing, and seemingly as eager to
watch all her movements as to avoid her notice. She could not even
descend to the tomb of her son unobserved.

In vain she asked for Witichis or Teja; they had left the city the
morning after the coronation, by order of the King.

The feeling that she was alone, surrounded by lurking enemies, filled
her mind with vague alarms.

Heavily and darkly the autumn rain-clouds hung over Ravenna, as
Amalaswintha rose from her s