The next instant the footsteps sounded on the
garden path, and the next the door was assailed.
The good sword held firm, but the frail barrier that it sustained
yielded at the second shock and fell inwards, shattered, to the floor.
Instantly the gap was darkened by human forms, and the firelight glowed
over the repulsive countenances of two Huns who headed the intruders,
habited in complete armour and furnished with naked swords.
'Yield yourself prisoner by Alaric's command,' cried one of the
barbarians, 'or you shall be slain as a deserter where you now stand!'
The Goth had risen to his feet as the door was burst in. The arrival of
his pursuers seemed to restore his lost energies, to deliver him at once
from an all-powerful thraldom. An expression of triumph and defiance
shone over his steady features when he heard the summons of the Hun.
For a moment he stooped towards Antonina, as she clung fainting round
him. His mouth quivered and his eye glistened as he kissed her cold
cheek. In that moment all the hopelessness of his position, all the
worthlessness of his marred existence, all the ignominy preparing for
him when he returned to the camp, rushed over his mind.
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