The old man was silent, but his doubts were not removed.
"Why," he re-commenced after a pause, "why does he not take thee with him, if he has such important affairs at court? Is he ashamed of the peasant's daughter?" and he struck his staff angrily on the ground.
"Anger blinds thee! Thou art vexed because he has taken me away from the mountain into the Italian valley, and art equally vexed because he does not take me to Rome, amongst the Italians!"
"And thou shalt not go there! But he ought to wish it; he ought not to be able to live without thee. But the King's general is no doubt ashamed of the peasant's child."
Just then, before Rauthgundis could answer, a horseman galloped up to the closed gate, before which they happened to be standing.
"Up! open!" he cried, striking the gate-post with his war-club.
"Who is there!" asked the old man cautiously.
"Open! A king's messenger should not be kept waiting so!"
"It is Wachis!" exclaimed Rauthgundis, pushing back the heavy bolt. "What brings thee back so unexpectedly!"
"It is you who open to me!" cried the faithful man. "Oh, hail! all hail, Queen of the Goths! Your lord is chosen King. With my own eyes I saw him lifted upon the shield! He greets you, and calls you and Athalwin to Rome. In three days you must depart."