"And now, to-day, our youths are as corrupt as the most profligate Romans. To the cruelty of the fathers"--the King sighed deeply--"is added the dissipation, the intemperance, the effeminate indolence of the sons. How can such a nation endure? It must succumb."
"But we Asdings," said Gibamund, drawing himself up to his full height, while his eyes sparkled and a noble look transfigured his whole face, "we are unsullied by such stains."
"What sins have we--you and we two committed," Zazo added, "that we must perish?"
Again the King sighed heavily, his brow clouded, he lowered his eyes.
"We? Do we not bear the curse which--But hush! Not a word of that! It is the last straw of my hope that I, the King, at least wear this crown without guilt. Were I obliged to accuse myself of that, woe betide me! Oh--whose is this cold hand? You, Verus? You startled me."
"He steals in noiselessly, like a serpent," Zazo muttered in his beard.
The priest--he had retained, even as chancellor, the ecclesiastical robe--had entered unobserved; how long before, no one knew. His eyes were fixed intently upon Gelimer, as he slowly withdrew the hand he had laid upon his friend's bare arm.
"Yes, my sovereign, keep this anxiety of conscience. Guard your soul from guilt. I know your nature; it would crush you."
"You shall not make my brother still more gloomy," cried Zazo, indignantly.
"Gelimer and guilt!" exclaimed Gibamund, throwing his arm around the King's neck.