At last--the lamps were long since lit, and the stars stood in the sky--he rose and went into the greeny darkness of the garden. He slowly wandered through the taxus-walks, his eyes fixed upon the sparkling luminaries. His heart was with his wife, with his child, whom he had not seen for months.
He wandered on unconsciously, until at last he came to the little Temple of Venus by the quay, with which we are already acquainted.
He looked out over the gleaming sea. All at once something shining at his feet attracted his attention. It was the glittering of the moonlight upon a small Gothic harp, and upon a suit of mail. A man lay before him upon the soft grass, and a pale face was uplifted towards him.
"Thou here, Teja? Thou wert not at the banquet?"
"No; I was with the dead."
"My thoughts, too, were absent; at home with wife and child," said Witichis.
"With wife and child," repeated Teja, sighing.
"Many asked after thee, Teja."
"After me? Should I sit by Cethegus, who has robbed me of my honour, or by Theodahad, who took inheritance?"
"Thine inheritance?"