Volume I Part 19 (2/2)
CHAPTER XVII.
The sound of approaching footsteps upon the sandy path startled her from her reverie. The step was so rapid and firm, that she did not expect Athalaric. But he it was, changed in appearance and carriage; more manly, stronger, more decided.
”Welcome, welcome, Camilla!” he cried, in a loud and lively voice. ”To see you here is the best reward for this troublous day.”
He had never spoken to her so before.
”My King!” she whispered, blus.h.i.+ng. She cast a beaming look upon him from her dark eyes, then the long and silky lashes fell.
”My King!” She had never before called him so, never given him such a look.
”Your King!” he said, seating himself beside her. ”I fear you will call me so no longer, when you learn what has happened to-day.”
”I know all.”
”You know! Well then, Camilla, be just. Do not scold, I am no tyrant----”
”The n.o.ble youth!” she thought. ”He excuses himself for his most manly act.”
”Heaven knows that I do not hate the Romans. Are they not your people?
I honour them and their ancient greatness; I respect their rights; but I must firmly protect my kingdom, Theodoric's creation, and woe to the hand that threatens it! Perhaps,” he continued, more slowly and solemnly, ”perhaps its doom is already written in the stars. 'Tis all the same. I, its King, must with it stand or fall.”
”You say truly, Athalaric, and speak like a King!”
”Thanks, Camilla; how just and good you are today! To such goodness I may well confide what blessing, what healing has come to me. I was a sick and erring dreamer, without support, without joy, gladly sinking to the grave. Then there suddenly came over me a feeling of the danger which threatened this nation, an active anxiety for the welfare of my people, and out of this anxiety grew a warm and mighty love for my Goths; and this ardent and watchful love has strengthened and comforted my heart for .... a bitterly painful renunciation. What matters _my_ happiness, if only my people flouris.h.!.+ See, this thought has made me whole and strong, and truly, I could now venture upon the most daring deed!”
He sprang up and extended both his arms, exclaiming: ”Oh, Camilla! this inaction destroys me! Oh that I were mounted and meeting a full-armed foe! Look,” he added, more calmly, ”the sun is setting. The mirror-like flood invites us. Come, Camilla, come with me in the boat.”
Camilla hesitated. She looked around.
”The slave?” asked Athalaric. ”Ah, let her alone. There she reposes under the palm by the spring. She sleeps. Come, come quickly, ere the sun sets. Look at the golden ripple on the water--it beckons us!”
”To the Isles of the Blessed?” asked the lovely girl, with a shy look and a slight blush.
”Yes, come to the Blessed Isles!” he answered, delighted, lifted her quickly into the boat, loosed the silver chain from the ram's head upon the quay, sprang in, took the ornamental oar, and pushed off.
Then he laid the oar into the notch at his left hand, and, standing in the stern of the boat, steered and rowed at the same time--a graceful and picturesque movement, and a right Germanic ferryman's custom.
Camilla sat upon a _diphros_, or Grecian folding-stool, in the bow of the boat, and looked into Athalaric's n.o.ble face. His dark hair was ruffled by the breeze, and it was pleasant to watch the lithe and graceful motions of his agile form.
Both were silent. Like an arrow the light bark shot through the smooth water. Flecked and rosy cloudlets pa.s.sed slowly across the sky, the faint breeze was laden with clouds of perfume from the blossoming almond-trees upon the sh.o.r.e, and all around was peace and harmony.
At last the King broke the silence, while giving the boat a strong impulse, so that it obediently shot forwards.
”Do you know of what I am thinking? How splendid it would be to steer a nation--thousands of well-loved lives--securely forward through waves and wind, to happiness and glory! But what were you thinking about, Camilla? You looked so kind, you must have had pleasant thoughts.”
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