But old Haduwalt, stepping to his side, saw with anxiety this look of his young master. He spoke with great seriousness:
"Be of good cheer and rest assured, Roman matron. I swear to thee by the renown of the honour of King Liutbert and of his son Liuthari, who stands here and is strangely silent, I will protect thee as if thou wert my own daughter, and he shall honour thee as if thou wert his sister. Now drink, Liuthari, what is so hospitably offered thee," cried he, turning and taking the spear from Liuthari's hand, who still stood as if entranced.
The young man took the bowl, put it to his mouth, sipped the wine and gave it back, without moving his eyes from her face.
"What is thy name?" asked he with a faint, trembling voice.
"Felicitas."
He quickly stepped forward.
"Happiness! Sälde! that is thy name: that art thou."
"I do not understand thee."
"It is not necessary," muttered Haduwalt. "Give me also something to drink."
He took the bowl from her and emptied it at a draught.