"But thou neither singest nor speakest."
"Yet still God hears me."
"Pray for the city. They fear that the end of the world is at hand."
"I am not afraid."
"Pray for our good King, who daily gives us bread."
"I do pray for him."
Just then two Gothic patrols came clattering round the corner, and met opposite the Basilica.
"Aye, thunder till the skies crack!" scolded the leader of one of the bands; "but do not hinder me in my duty. Halt! Wisand, is it thou? Where is the King? In the church also?"
"No, Hildebad; upon the walls."
"That is right; that is his place. Forwards! Long live the King!"