m a minute before flashed at this moment clear
through Amael's mind. Mounting his horse at the same time that Charles
and the young Roman who bore the torch did theirs, he allowed the two to
take somewhat the lead of him, and then followed them at a distance,
guided by the torch that Octave held aloft.

As Octave later narrated to him, the Emperor alternated between fits of
rage, provoked by the freshest proof of the libertinage to which his
daughters were addicted, and uneasiness at the disappearance of
Thetralde. These several sentiments were given vent to by broken words
that from time to time reached the ears of the young Roman who preceded
Charles by only a few paces.

"My poor child!--where can she be?--Perhaps dying of cold and fear--at
the bottom of some thicket, perhaps!" murmured the Emperor. Presently he
would call out at the top of his voice: "Thetralde! Thetralde! Oh, she
does not hear me! King of the Heavens, have pity upon me. So young--so
delicate--a chilly night like this is enough to kill her. Oh, my unhappy
old age, that this child might have served to console--she would not
have resembled her sisters! Her fifteen year forehead was never
crimsoned with an evil thought. Oh, dead! Dead, perhaps! No, no--youth
is full of pranks! Besides, these daughters, all of whom I have brought
up like boys, are all accustomed to fatigue. They accompany me during my
long journeys. But yet, the night is so dark--and it is so chilly!"
Whereupon the Emperor would again call out: "Thetralde!" and suddenly
reining in his horse and listening, the Emperor of the Franks broke the
silence with the sudden question: "Did you not hear a sound like the
neighing of a horse?"

"I did, august Prince," answered the young Roman.

"Listen! Listen again!"

Octave kept silent. Soon again the sound of distant neighing broke upon
the stillness of the forest.

"No doubt any longer. Despairing of finding her way, my daughter must
have tied her palfrey to a tree!" exclaimed the Emperor, his heart
bounding with hope. Calling out to Octave, he ordered: "Gallop! Gallop
faster!" and himself increasing his own speed to the utmost cried out
uninterruptedly: "Thetralde! Thetralde! Thetralde, my daughter!"

Amael, who followed Charles at a goodly distance, keeping himself well
in the shadow, also fell into a gallop the moment he noticed the
torchlight that guided him suddenly move with increased swiftness into
the darkness. The Emperor and Oct