"The wheel must be taken off. That monument will afford some shelter."
Shivering with fright, Amalaswintha obeyed, and walked over the scattered stones to the right side of the road, where, across the ditch, she saw a tall monument rise out of the darkness.
Dolios helped her over the ditch. All at once the neighing of a horse was heard on the road behind the carriage. Amalaswintha stopped short in alarm.
"It is our rear-guard," said Dolios quickly. "Come!" And he led her through the wet grass up the hill upon which stood the monument.
Arrived at the top, she seated herself upon the broad slab of a sarcophagus. Dolios all at once disappeared into the darkness; in vain she called him back. Presently she saw the light of his torch on the road below; it shone redly through the mist of the marsh, and the stormy wind rapidly bore away the sound of the hammer-strokes of the slaves who were working at the wheel.
Thus sat the daughter of the great Theodoric, lonely and in fear. The cold rain slowly penetrated her clothing. The wind tore at her dress and sighed dismally through the cypresses behind the monument; ragged clouds drove across the sky and at intervals permitted a gleam of moonlight to penetrate their folds, which only intensified the darkness that followed.
Amalaswintha's heart was sick with fear. Gradually her eyes became accustomed to the gloom, and, looking about her, she could distinguish the outlines of the nearest objects. There!--her heart stood still with horror--it seemed to her as if, close behind her on the raised corner of the back of the sarcophagus, there sat a second figure--it was not her own shadow--a shorter figure in a wide flowing garment, its arms resting on its knees, its head supported on its hands, and its eyes fixed upon her.
She could scarcely breathe; she thought she heard a whisper; she feverishly tried to see, to hear.
Again there came a whisper.
"No, no; not yet!" this was what she thought she heard.