"So," cried the base monarch, glad, like all weak minds convicted of crime, to seek revenge in scorn, where they have no refuge in justice, and no power of retaliation--"so thou art one of those degenerate Romans who fight against their country in the ranks of the barbarians!"
"Monarch, thou liest," answered Theodore, boldly. "I have never fought against my country. My sword has never been drawn, my spear has never been pointed against a Roman breast. I have saved the life of Attila; I have saved the life of his son; but I have taken no part in his wars, and defy thee to show that I have ever been guilty of one act against my country. Little, too, would it become thee, oh emperor, to reproach any one for betraying his native land. Hast thou not given tribute to the barbarian? hast thou never sacrificed the innocent to the fury of the Huns? hast thou never encouraged the hordes of Scythia to invade the Roman territories. But I leave thee, oh monarch. My sister is safe. Thy crimes are averted; and, as if clad in a panoply of iron, my innocence defies thy power and scorns thy menaces. Come, Eudochia, come. The litter and the slaves which brought thee hither as the object of a base monarch's passion shall carry thee back as pure as when thou camest."
Throwing his arm round her, but without sheathing the sword he carried in his right hand, lest any opposition should be made to his retreat, Theodore placed her in the litter; and, at a word to some of his followers, the slaves of Valentinian who had borne her thither were brought in, raised their fair burden from the ground, and obeyed at once the young Roman in bearing her away homeward. The dark Huns who had accompanied him surrounded them on every side; and Theodore himself, after casting one more look of mingled scorn and indignation upon the tyrant from whom he had just snatched his prey, followed his sister from the palace without obstruction, and almost without notice, so carefully had Valentinian removed from the precincts of those apartments every one who might behold, or report, or interrupt the commission of the crime he had meditated.
While his own slaves had been compelled to bear Eudochia away, the weak monarch of the West had remained, with impotent fury burning in his bosom, and eyes glaring angrily upon that which he could not prevent. His features had worked, his hands had wrung each other, his colour had varied under the influence of passion like the complexion of a timid girl. He had more than once sought for the hilt of the dagger, too, as if he would fain have struck it into the heart of the bold youth who taunted him so scornfully. But fear had restrained his violence; and, when Eudochia was gone, he remained for several minutes motionless as a statue, gazing down upon the floor, without any perceptible movement except a slight pressure of his hands together, and the sterner knitting of his angry brow.
What were all the dark and the painful thoughts, the burning bitter shame, the lowered but still fierce and venomous pride, that now raged within, it matters not to inquire; suffice it, that so intense and potent were they, that they seemed to absorb his whole soul and mind; and there he remained, as we have said, for many minutes, without speech or movement. At length, however, the imprisoned tempest burst forth, and stamping violently upon the ground, he poured forth a torrent of curses and imprecations upon himself, upon Theodore, upon Eudochia, upon the whole world; and then, casting himself down upon that flower-strewed couch, he raved and gnashed his teeth, in the agony of anger, degradation, and disappointment. After a time, starting up again, he leaned his brow for a moment or two upon his hand, as if in thought, and then called loudly for his attendants.
"Ho, without there!" he exclaimed; "is nobody near? Is everybody fled? Are ye all fools, or cowards, or traitors? Does nobody answer to the voice of the emperor?"
As his voice ran along the passages of the building, with slow and fearful steps a single eunuch crept out from some corner, in which he had concealed himself; and stepping with evident terror over the body of the fallen slave, who had been slain in attempting to prevent the entrance of Theodore, he approached the door at which the monarch stood, and cast himself at his feet.
"Pitiful, cowardly wretch!" exclaimed Valentinian, "why didst thou abandon thy lord, to be insulted by that frantic boy; or, if thou hadst not power to resist him and his barbarians, why didst thou not fly, by the opposite passage, to the chief apartments, and call up the chamberlain and his guards?"
"I had but time to hide myself in the bath, from which there is no outlet," replied the eunuch. "My comrade was smitten to the ground in a moment; and I should have shared the same fate, without serving thee, oh great monarch! if I had not darted away where first I could find refuge."
"Well, get thee gone quick," replied the emperor. "Call up hither, instantly, the prefect of the palace, and also the chamberlain. Lose not a moment."