"Brother, surely this is not true?" cried Ammata, pushing back his waving locks from his flushed face. "What? You are silent? You turn away? You cannot--"
"No, he cannot deny it," cried Pudentius, defiantly. "Do you see how pale he turns? Genseric was a demon. You have all sprung from hell. He and his successors have committed horrible deeds of cruelty upon us Romans, us Catholics! But wait! It will not remain unpunished. As surely as there is a God in Heaven! This curse of sin rests upon you. What do the Scriptures say? 'I will visit the sins of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation.'"
A hollow groan escaped the lips of the King. He tottered, sank upon the couch, and covered his face with the folds of his purple mantle. Ammata gazed at him in terror. Hilda hastily pushed him and the young Roman away.
"Go!" she whispered. "Make friends with each other; you must stop quarrelling. What have you boys to do with such things? Make friends, I say." Ammata held out his right hand pleasantly; the Roman clasped it slowly, angrily.
"Look," said Ammata, stooping, "how lucky!" He lifted from the floor the bit of brownish-red cord, to which the little wax seal hung.
"Yes, indeed," exclaimed Pudentius, in surprise; "the same seal that Verus would not give us for our collection of seals and impressions."
"It is very odd,--a scorpion surrounded by flames."
"Last week, when I saw the open letter lying on his table with the seal and cord, how I begged him for it!"
"He struck my fingers when I seized it."
"I wondered why it should be so valuable."