"I now offer you another husband. Young, handsome, a Goth of the purest nobility, his rank is at this moment the second in the kingdom. You know, at least you suspect, how sorely my throne, surrounded by enemies, needs protection. He and his powerful brother promise us the help of their whole army. Earl Arahad loves you, and you, you refuse him! Tell me why?"
"Because I do not love him."
"A girl's stupid speech! You are a King's daughter; you ought to sacrifice yourself to your rank, to your kingdom."
"I am a woman," answered Mataswintha, raising her sparkling eyes, "and will sacrifice my heart to no power in heaven or on earth!"
"And thus speaks my daughter? Look at me, foolish child. I have striven after great things, and have attained much. As long as men admire what is great, they will name my name. I have won all that life can offer, and yet I never----"
"Loved! I know it," sighed her daughter.
"You know it?"
"Yes; it was the curse of my childhood! I was indeed still a child when my father died. I knew not how to express it, but even then I could feel that his heart missed something, when, sighing deeply, he embraced Athalaric and me, and sighed again. And I loved him all the more tenderly because I felt that he sought love most where it was wanting. Now indeed I know what then I could not explain to myself. You became our father's wife, because, after Theodoric, he stood next to the throne. Ambition, and not love, led you to his arms, and you could only give cold pride in return for his warm affection."
Amalaswintha was startled, and stopped again in her restless walk.
"You are very bold!" she said.