"I have no one who loves me," she answered with the deepest sadness; tears filled her eyes as she gazed fixedly into vacancy.
"You lie!" cried Ausonius. "That Adalo!" Bissula started. "He must love you madly."
Bissula listened intently, gazing at him in astonishment; glowing shame and happy terror filled her heart.
But the Roman went on: "Or would he, a free Prince of the Alemanni, have solemnly made the proposal to Saturninus and me: 'Let the maiden go unhurt. Adalo will take her place as captive.' Do you know what that means? A slave for life?"
"He--he did that? For me?" Passionate delight flashed from her eyes, her soul.
Ausonius gazed silently into her face. Then he said: "How he loves you, this offer shows: how you love him, your radiant eyes betray. But," he added, slowly and searchingly, "know this. He will no longer separate us. You can become mine without breaking faith with him, for--" he clasped her hand.
"What is it? What has happened to him? Speak!"
"He is dead."
"Oh!" shrieked Bissula, and, before Ausonius could stop her, she had wrenched herself from his hold, sprung on the thwart of the boat and, clasping her hands above her head with a gesture of silent anguish, flung herself forward toward the water.
A strong arm caught her; it was Rignomer's.