ide the cloister gates.

The two friends embraced each other tenderly; for some time they were
incapable of speaking.

Teja stood near and gravely observed them.

"Sir," whispered Adalgoth, "who is the man with the deep-set eyes? a
monk?"

"In his heart he is; but not outwardly."

"Such a young man with such an old look! Dost thou know whom he
resembles? That picture in the cloisters on the golden background."

"It is true; he is like that gentle and sorrowful head of the Apostle
John."

"Your letter," Julius said to Totila, "found me already resolved to
come here."

"You were about to seek me--or Valeria?"

"No, Totila. I came to be examined and accepted by Cassiodorus.
Benedict of Nursia, who fills our century with the fame of his
miracles, has founded an order which powerfully attracts me."

"Julius, you must not do that! What spirit of flying from the world has
seized upon my companions? Valeria, you, and Teja!"

"I fly from nothing," said Julius, "not even from the world."

"How," continued the King, taking his friend by the arm, and leading
him towards the cloister, "how come you, in the bloom of your manhood,
to think of this moral suicide? Look, there comes Valeria. She must
help me to convince you. Ah, if you had ever loved, you would not turn
your back upon the world."

Julius smiled, but made no reply. He quietly clasped Valeria's offered
hand, and followed her into the cloister, where Cassiodorus came to
meet them.

Thanks to the King's eloquence, he was able to induce his friend to
promise that he would accompany the aged Cassiodorus to Byzantium in a
few days. Julius at first shunned the glitter, the noise, and the
wickedness of the Emperor's court, until at last Cassiodorus' example
and Totila's persuasions overcame his scruples.

"I think," the King said, "that more pious works can be accomplished in
the world than in the cloister. _This_ embassy is such a pious work; a
work which is to save two nations from the horrors of renewed warfare."

"Certainly," said Julius, "a king and a hero can serve God as well as a
monk. I do not blame your manner of service--leave mine to me. It seems
to me that in the time in which we live, when an ancient world is
sinking amid much terror, and a new one arises amid wild storms; when
all the vices of a degenerated heathenism are mixed with the wildness
of a barbarous race; when luxury, brute force, and the lusts of the
flesh fill East and West, I thin