asked the Princess, looking
thoughtfully at her. "How long have you been here?"

"Eight days," answered the slave, turning the handle of the door.

"How long have you served Cassiodorus?"

"I serve, and have always served, the Princess Gothelindis."

At this name Amalaswintha started up with a cry and caught at the
woman's skirt--too late; she was gone and the door closed, and
Amalaswintha heard the key taken from the lock outside.

A great and unknown terror overcame her. She felt that she had been
fearfully deceived; that some shocking secret lay behind. Her heart was
full of unspeakable anxiety; and flight--flight from the rooms was her
only thought.

But flight seemed impossible. The door now appeared to be only a thick
marble slab like those on the right and left; even a needle could not
have penetrated into the junctures. She looked desperately round the
walls of the gallery, but met only the marble stare of the tritons and
dolphins. At last her eyes rested upon a snake-encircled Medusa's head
directly opposite and a scream of horror escaped her lips.

The face of the Medusa was pushed aside, and the oval opening beneath,
the snaky hair was filled with a living countenance! Was it a human
face?

The trembling woman clung to the marble balustrade of the gallery, and
bent, over it, staring at the apparition. Yes, it was the distorted
features of Gothelindis! A hell of hate and mockery flashed from the
eyes.

Amalaswintha fell upon her knees and hid her face in her hands.

"_You_--you here?"

A hoarse laugh was the reply.

"Yes, child of the Amelungs, I am here; to your ruin! Mine is this
island; mine the house--it will become your grave--mine is Dolios, and
all the slaves of Cassiodorus; bought by me eight days ago. I have
decoyed you here; I have followed you like your shadow. I have endured
the torture of my hatred for long days and nights, in order to enjoy
full revenge at last. I will revel for hours in your death-agony. I
will see your tender frame shaken as with fever-frost, and your haughty
features convulsed with terror. Oh, I will drink a sea of revenge!"

Amalaswintha rose from her knees wringing her hands.

"Revenge? For what? Why this deadly hatred?"

"Ah! can you ask? Certainly years have passed, and the happy easily
forget. But hate has a faithful memory. Have you forgotten how two
young girls once played under the shade of the plantains in the meadow
at Ravenna? They were the faires