"It is the first," said Witichis.
"It does not concern me," she added hastily. "I beg for food for some poor people, who----"
The King silently stretched out his right hand.
It was the first time he had ever offered it. She did not dare to clasp it, and yet how gladly she would have done so.
Then the King took her hand himself, and pressed it gently.
"I thank thee, Mataswintha, and regret my injustice. I never believed that thou hadst a heart for thy people. I have thought unkindly of thee."
"If thy thoughts had been more just from the beginning, perhaps many things might be better now."
"Scarcely! Misfortune dogs my heels. Just now--thou hast a right to know it--my last hopes have been destroyed. The Franks, upon whose aid I depended, have betrayed us. Relief is impossible; the superiority of the enemy has become too great, by reason of the rebellion of the Italians. Only one thing remains to me--death!"
"Let me share it with thee," cried Mataswintha, her eyes sparkling.
"Thou? No. The granddaughter of Theodoric will be honourably received at the Court of Byzantium. It is known that she became my wife against her will. Thou canst appeal to that fact."