'Have you forgotten, with the spirit of your people,
the end for which your ancestors lived? Is not your sword at your feet?
Is not the knife in my hand? Do not the waters of the Tiber, rolling
yonder to the sea, offer to you the grave of oblivion that all may seek?
Die then! In your last hour be a Goth; even to the Romans you are
worthless now! Already your comrades have discovered your desertion;
will you wait till you are hung for a rebel? Will you live to implore
the mercy of your enemies, or, dishonoured and defenceless, will you
endeavour to escape? You are of the blood of my family, but again I say
it to you--die!'
His pale lips trembled; he looked round for the first time at Antonina,
but his utterance struggled ineffectually, even yet, against unyielding
despair. He was still silent.
Goisvintha turned from him disdainfully, and approaching the fire sat
down before it, bending her haggard features over the brilliant flames.
For a few minutes she remained absorbed in her evil thoughts, but no
articulate word escaped her; and when at length she again abruptly broke
the silence, it was not to address the Goth or to fix her eyes on him as
before.
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