Eudochia gazed round in hopeless despair. But then came a sound of hasty steps and angry voices; and, with sudden hope rushing through her bosom, she uttered scream after scream, to attract the notice of any one who might be passing near. Valentinian seemed not to have heard or not to heed the sounds, for he pursued his evil course; but while he endeavoured to silence the unhappy object of his passions, the door of the chamber was shaken violently.
The bolts and locks resisted; but another and another blow came crashing upon the woodwork. Valentinian, with a cheek as pale as death, retreated towards the couch, and sought for the dagger, which was the only weapon he had worn. The next moment the door gave way, and the brother of Eudochia, followed by twenty or thirty of the armed Huns, rushed into the chamber. His sword was drawn and bloody in his hand; and stretched across the long passage might be seen the corpse of one of the base instruments of the tyrant's vices, who had dared to resist the passage of the Roman, hastening to the deliverance of his sister.
Theodore caught her in his arms, and Eudochia wept upon his bosom. But such thoughts as had inspired the bosoms of his ancestors were in his heart at that moment, and he gave her little time to weep.
"Are you safe, my sister?" he cried, with his eyes still glaring on Valentinian. "Are you pure! By the memory of our father, I adjure you! are you unpolluted?"
"I am, Theodore! I am!" she answered: "thanks to God and to you, I am!"
"Vile slave!" cried Valentinian, attempting to assume the air of empire; "who are you? How dare you--"
But Theodore cut him short. "Base, effeminate, soulless tyrant!" he answered, "well may you thank God that I arrived in time to save you from the crime you sought to commit! Well may you thank God! for your cowardly and pitiful life had surely been ended here had you succeeded in injuring her; and your soul had been sent to hell burdened with the sin it had just perpetrated."
Valentinian trembled and turned pale, the coward blood forsaking his heated cheek at the stern aspect of the young Roman. He attempted, however, though in a weak and faltering voice, to call for his guards and his officers; but Theodore replied, with a look of withering scorn, "You call in vain, tyrannical disgrace of Rome--you call in vain. The means that you have taken to ensure that your crime should be effected in silence and secrecy, have left you as powerless as the lowest slave in your dominions. All the better and the purer part of your court, sent forth to take part in the procession, have left you alone in this wing of the palace, with none but the slavish ministers of your pleasures near thee. They are in the hands of my followers, except yon rash fool, lying there in his blood who attempted to stop a brother flying to his sister's rescue. Thou art in my power," he added, "to take or leave thy pitiful life as I will; and couldst thou but see how contemptible a thing thou hast made thyself, as thou standest there, quivering with fear and guilt before thine injured subject, shame would surely supply the place of virtue, and thou wouldst blush for the crimes that have degraded thee so low."
"Traitor!" exclaimed Valentinian, with the blood rushing up into his face--"traitor, thou shalt rue this day!"
"Monarch, I shall not," replied Theodore, "were even your power as extended as it is weak and circumscribed; were the Romans found base enough to suffer a tyrant to oppress a citizen for defending a helpless girl, and that girl his sister, you dare not, no, you dare not openly raise a hand against my life. Know that in me you see one whom Attila, at whose very name you tremble, looks upon as his son. Letters are already in thy court announcing my coming, and bidding thee do me justice in all things; and thou darest as soon raise thy hand against me as thou darest offer thy neck to the axe."