"From this moment you are welcome as a guest, but not as an ambassador."
"I repeat: if the city be taken by storm, all the Goths who are taller than the sword of Belisarius--he has sworn it--will be killed! The women and children will be sold into slavery. You understand that Belisarius will suffer no barbarians in his Italy. The death of a hero may be tempting to you, but think of the helpless people--their blood will accuse you before the throne of God----"
"Ambassador, you, as well as we, are in God's hand. Farewell."
And these words were uttered with such majesty, that the Byzantine was obliged to go, however reluctantly.
The simple dignity of the King had had a strong effect upon him; but still more upon the listening Queen.
As Procopius slowly shut the door, he saw Mataswintha standing before him, and started back, dazzled by her great beauty. He greeted her reverently.
"You are the Queen of the Goths!" he said. "You must be she."
"I am," said Mataswintha. "Would that I had never forgotten it!"
And she passed him with a haughty step.
"These Germans, both men and women," said Procopius, as he went out, "have eyes such as I have never seen before!"