hy hero husband.'"

Adalgoth pressed his young wife to his bosom, with mingled pride and
joy.

Behind the tent of the Duke lay the low hut, made of dried branches,
where dwelt Wachis and Liuta. Liuta, who had heard from Gotho what fate
menaced them, had been obliged to use all her powers of persuasion upon
her husband (who sat shaking his head and hammering and patching his
shield, which had been sadly defaced, by Longobardian arrows in the
last watch he had held at the mouth of the pass, and who now began to
whistle to hide his suppressed sobs) before she could raise him to a
like enthusiasm of renunciation.

"I do not think," said the honest man, "that the Lord of heaven can see
it done. I am one of those who never like to say, 'All is over!' The
proud ones, those who hold their heads high, like King Teja and Duke
Adalgoth, certainly run constantly against the beams of fate. But we
small people, who can stoop and bend, easily find a mouse-hole or a
chink in the wall by which to escape. It is too vile! miserable! cruel!
rascally!"--and each word was accompanied by a sounding stroke with his
hammer. "I will not believe it! I cannot believe that hundreds of good
women, pretty girls, lisping children, and stammering old men, must
jump into the hellish fire of this accursed mountain! As if it were but
a merry bonfire! As if they would come out at the other side safe and
sound! I might just as well have let thee burn in the house at Faesulae.
And not only thou must burn, but also our expected child, whom I have
already named Witichis."

"Or Rauthgundis," said Liuta, blushing, as she bent over her husband's
shoulder and stopped his hammering. "Let this name admonish thee,
Wachis! Think of our beloved mistress. Was she not a thousand times
better than Liuta, the poor maid-servant? And would she have hesitated
or refused to die on the same day with all her people?"

"Thou art right, wife!" exclaimed Wachis, with a last furious stroke of
his hammer. "Thou knowest I am a peasant, and peasants do not at all
like to die. But if the heavens fall, they strike down peasants as well
as others; and before it happens--ha-ha!--I will deal many a famous
stroke! That would please Sir Witichis and Mistress Rauthgundis right
well also. In honour of them--yes, thou art right, Liuta--we will live
bravely--and, if it cannot be otherwise, bravely die!"

CHAPTER IX.

It was with most joyful surprise t