All present seemed silently moved by the impending conflict of feeling.
"Mistress Rauthgundis," began the old man, "I have to speak of sad things with the King. It will hurt thee to hear them!"
Rauthgundis rose, but not to go. Deep pain and earnest love for her husband gave to her fair and regular features a noble and elevated expression.
Without removing her right hand from that of her husband, she laid her left gently upon his shoulder.
"Speak freely, Hildebrand. I am his wife, and demand the half of these sad words!"
"Mistress," the old man repeated.
"Let her remain," said the King. "Dost thou fear to tell thy thoughts before her face?"
"Fear? no! And though I were forced to tell a god that the people of the Goths was dearer to me than he, I should do it without fear. Know then----"
"What! Thou wilt? Spare her, spare her!" cried Witichis, throwing his arms around his wife.
But Rauthgundis looked at him quietly and said: