ching tone, a blast upon
the twisted ram's horn. Gotho looked up; it had become darker; she
could see the red fire upon the hearth glimmer through the open door.
The sheep answered the well-known sound with louder bleatings,
stretching their necks in the direction of the house and the stalls.
The brown and shaggy sheep-dog sprang upon Gotho, as if to remind her
that it was time to go home.

"I will go directly," she said, smiling, and stroking the dog's head.
"Ah! the sheep are sooner tired of their pasture than the shepherdess
of her thoughts! Now, forwards, White Elf, thou art already become a
great fat sheep!"

She went down the hill towards the little hollow between two mountain
summits, where the house and stalls found protection from the wind and
the avalanches. There the last rays of the sun dazzled her no more. The
stars were already visible. Gotho looked up at the sky.

"They are so beautiful, because _he_ has looked at them so often!"

A shooting-star fell to the south.

"He calls me! Thither!" cried Gotho, slightly trembling.

She now drove the sheep more quickly forward, and presently shut
them into their cot, and entered the large and only chamber of the
ground-floor of the dwelling-house.

There she found her grandfather stretched upon the raised stone placed
close to the hearth; his feet covered with two large sheep-skins.

He looked paler and older than usual.

"Seat thyself beside me, Gotho," he said, "and drink; here is milk
mixed with honey. Listen to me. The time is come of which I have often
spoken. We must part. I am going home. Thy dear face is indistinct; my
tired old eyes can no longer distinguish thy features. And yesterday
when I tried to go down to the spring, my knees failed me. Then I felt
that the end was near, and I sent the goat-herd over to Teriolis with a
message. But thou shalt not be present when his soul flies out of old
Iffa's mouth. The death of a man is not lovely to behold--especially
death upon the straw-bed. And thou hast never yet seen anything
sorrowful. This shadow shall not fall upon thy young life. To-morrow,
before cockcrow, brave Hunibad will come over from Teriolis to fetch
thee--he has promised me to do so. His wounds are not yet healed; he is
yet weak; but he says that he cannot remain idle when, as they say, the
war will be sure to break out again. He wishes to go to King Totila in
Rome. And there too thou must go with an important message. He shall be
th