"I will read this paragraph myself," interrupted Theodahad, and held out his hand for the document.
"'Fourthly: the Emperor leaves to the King of the Goths not only all the lands and treasures which the latter possesses as private property, but the whole of the royal Gothic treasury, which alone is valued at forty thousand pounds of minted gold. Further, the Emperor assigns to Theodahad, as his property and inheritance, the whole of Tuscany, from Pistoria to Cære, from Populonia to Clusium; and lastly, he makes over to him for life the half of all the public revenues of the kingdom thus restored to its rightful sovereign.' Tell me, Petros, do not you think that I might demand three-fourths?"
"You might certainly ask it, but I doubt exceedingly that Justinian would grant it. I have already overstepped the utmost limits of my power."
"We will demand it, at all events," said the King, altering the figures, "then Justinian must either bargain for less, or grant additional privileges."
A false smile played over the thin lips of the ambassador.
"You are a clever negotiator, O King," he said. "But in this case you reckon wrongly," he added to himself.
Just at this moment the rustle of trailing garments was heard in the marble corridor, and Amalaswintha entered, dressed in a long black mantle and a black veil sowed with silver stars. She was deadly pale, but composed and dignified; a Queen in spite of having lost her crown. Intense sorrow ennobled the expression of her countenance.
"King of the Goths," she began, "forgive if a dark shadow suddenly rises from the realm of the dead to dim your joyous feast. It is for the last time."
Both the men were struck by her appearance.
"Queen," stammered Theodahad.