Hermanric attempted to address him first, but the appearance of the man,
barely visible though it was by the feeble light of his lantern, was so
startling and repulsive, that the half-formed words died away on his
lips. The face of the stranger was of a ghastly paleness; his hollow
cheeks were seamed with deep wrinkles; and his eyes glared with an
expression of ferocious suspicion. One of his arms was covered with old
bandages, stiff with coagulated blood, and hung paralysed at his side.
The hand that held the light trembled, so that the lantern containing it
vibrated continuously in his unsteady grasp. His limbs were lank and
shrivelled almost to deformity, and it was with evident difficulty that
he stood upright on his feet. Every member of his body seemed to be
wasting with a gradual death, while his expression, ardent and
forbidding, was stamped with all the energy of manhood, and all the
daring of youth.
It was Ulpius! The wall was passed! The breach was made good!
After a protracted examination of Hermanric's countenance and attire,
the man, with an imperious expression, strangely at variance with his
faltering voice, thus addressed him:--
'You are a Goth?'
'I am,' rejoined the young chief; 'and you are--'
'A friend of the Goths,' was the quick answer.
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