And, as if beseeching them, he held out both hands to the people. But the thundering cry, "Hail, King Witichis!" was the only answer he received.
And now old Hildebrand advanced, seized his hand, and said in a loud voice:
"Cease to resist, Witichis! Who was it who first swore to acknowledge, without hesitation, the man who gained a majority even of one voice? See, thou hast all voices; and wilt thou refuse!"
But Witichis shook his head.
Then the old man went up to him and whispered:
"What? Must I urge thee more strongly? Must I remind thee of that midnight oath and bond; to sacrifice all for the well-being of thy people? I know--I see through thy transparent soul--that the crown is more a burthen to thee than an honour. I suspect that this crown will bring thee great and bitter pain, perhaps more pain than joy; and therefore I ask of thee, that thou accept it."
Witichis was still silent and pressed both hands over his eyes.
This by-play had lasted far too long for the enthusiasm of the people. They already prepared the broad shield on which to lift him; they already pressed up the eminence; and, almost impatiently, the cry sounded anew, "Hail, King Witichis!"
"Think of thy oath! wilt thou keep it or break it!" whispered Hildebrand.
"Keep it!" said Witichis, and resolutely looked up. He now, without false shame or vanity, came forward a step and said: "You have chosen me, O Goths! well, then take me; I will be your king."