Athalaric sprang up and quickly turned. His pallid face was illumined by a vivid flush. But he was the first to recover himself, and said:
"Forgive, Camilla. I could not expect you to come here at this hour. I will go; and leave you alone with the rising sun."
And he flung his white mantle over his shoulder.
"Remain, King of the Goths. I have no right to scare you away--and no intention," she added.
Athalaric came a step nearer.
"I thank you. And I beg one favour," he added, smiling. "Do not betray me to my physicians nor to my mother. All day long they shut me up so carefully, that I am obliged to escape before sunrise. For the fresh air, the sea-breeze, does me good; I feel that it cools me. You will not betray me?"
He spoke so quietly. He looked so unembarrassed. This freedom from embarrassment confused Camilla. She would have felt more courageous if he had been more moved. She observed his coolness with pain, but not because she really cared for the Prefect's plans. So, in answer, she only shook her head in silence, and cast down her eyes.
At that moment the rays of the sun reached the spot on which the pair were standing.
The old temple and the bronze of the statues shone in the rosy light; and from the east a broad path of trembling gold was laid upon the smooth flood.
"See, how beautiful!" cried Athalaric, carried away by his admiration. "Look at that bridge of light and glory!"