"I was not your good angel," laughed the other.
"But--if I may ask--?"
"Ask on! I want to enjoy this hour to the utmost."
"If you hated me so bitterly, desired to avenge your mother on me, why did you carry on this game for so many long years? Often and often,--when I lay helpless in the lion's power, you might have killed me, so why--?"
"A stupid question! Have you not understood even yet? Fool! True, I hated you, but even more--your nation. To kill you had its charm. And I struggled sorely with my hate at that time, in order not to kill you instead of the lion."
"I saw that."
"But I perceived: here, in this man, lives the soul of the Vandal people. To raise him to the throne, and then rule him, is to rule his people. If I should kill him now, I should drive Hilderic to a secret treaty with Constantinople. Zazo, Gibamund, others, will resist long and bravely. But if this man, who, above all, could save his people, should become king, and then, as king, be in my power, his countrymen will be most surely lost. If it should become necessary to kill him, an opportunity can probably always be found. Far better than to murder him is through him to rule--and ruin--the Vandal nation!"
Then Gelimer groaned aloud and, staggering, involuntarily caught at the horse's neck for support. Verus thrust his hand aside; he stumbled and fell on the sand, but instantly rose and pursued his way.
"Did the priest strike you. King?" cried the Herulian, threateningly.
"No, my friend."