All this had passed rapidly, and seemed like some frightful dream, but a broad gold bracelet, ornamented with a green serpent in emeralds, remained in the Gothic woman's hand, a proof of the reality of the mysterious vision.
And again the iron steps of the Gothic patrol approached.
"Hildebad, Hildebad, help!" cried Wisand.
"I am here! What is the matter? Where shall I go?" asked Hildebad, advancing with his men.
"To the Gate of Honorius! The wall has fallen, and the tower of Ætius lies in ruins. Help! Into the breach!"
"I come! Poor, poor Fridugern!"
Outside, in the camp of the Byzantines, Cethegus the Prefect rushed into Belisarius's tent.
He was in full armour, his plume of crimson horsehair tossed upon his helm. His bearing was proud. His eyes flashed.
"Up! Why do you linger, Belisarius? The walls of your enemy's citadel fall of themselves! The last refuge of the last King of the Goths lies open before you! Why do you remain in your tent?"
"I adore the Almighty," said Belisarius with composure. Antonina stood near him, her arm about his neck.