Volume Iii Part 4 (2/2)

”Shall I eat while he hungers?”

”You will be exhausted! Of what are you thinking the whole evening?”

”Of what am I thinking?” repeated Rauthgundis, still looking out. ”I am thinking how often we have sat in the colonnade before our beautiful house, when the fountain splashed in the garden and the cicalas chirped in the trees. The cool night-breeze fanned his beloved face, and I nestled against his shoulder, and we did not speak one word, and above us was the silent march of the stars. And we listened to the deep and peaceful breathing of our child, who had fallen asleep upon my lap, his little hands, like soft white fetters, clasping the arm of his father.

Alas! his arm now wears other fetters! Iron fetters--that pain----”

And she pressed her forehead against the iron grating, until she, too, felt pain.

”Mistress, why do you torment yourself thus? We cannot help it!”

”'But we will help it! I must save him and----Dromon! look there! What is that?” she whispered, and pointed at something in the court.

The old man hastened noiselessly to her side.

In the court was a tall white figure, which seemed to glide stealthily along the wall.

At brief intervals, but sharp and clear, the moonlight fell upon it.

”It is a Lemure! The ghost of some one who has been murdered here!”

said the old man, trembling. ”G.o.d and all the saints protect us!”

He crossed himself and covered his head with his mantle.

”No,” said Rauthgundis, ”the dead do not return from the other world!

Now it has disappeared--all is dark. Ha! the moon breaks through once--more there it is again! It moves towards the pa.s.sage-door. What is that s.h.i.+ning red in the white light? Ha! it is the Queen--that is her red hair? She stops at the door! She opens it! She is going to murder him in his sleep!”

”G.o.d knows, it is the Queen! But _she_ murder him! How could she?”

”_She_ could! But, as I live, she shall not! Follow her! A miracle opens the door to us. But softly, softly!”

And she went out on tiptoe into the court, the axe still in her hand, slowly and stealthily, seeking the shadow. Dromon followed her closely.

Meanwhile Mataswintha, for she it was, had opened the door and gone forward, down many steps and then through a small pa.s.sage, feeling the way with her hands.

She now reached the door of the prison. She opened it very softly.

Through an aperture high up on the wall, where a stone had been taken out, a slanting strip of moonlight fell into the square and narrow dungeon.

The light revealed the prisoner. He sat motionless upon a block of stone, his back turned to the door, his head supported on his hands.

Mataswintha trembled and leaned against the doorpost. The air felt damp and icy-cold. She s.h.i.+vered. She could not say a word for very horror.

Witichis remarked the draught of air from the open door. He lifted his head, but did not look round.

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