All.
Nay, King, nay! Euric. Sire, grant us time to accustom ourselves to that horrible thing.
Teja.
Horrible? What seemeth horrible to ye? I speak not indeed to Romans who reel from the mass to the lupanar, and from the lupanar to the mass. Yet there is not one among ye whose breast is not covered with scars like an old stone with moss. These twenty years ye have made sport of death, and now it cometh in earnest, doth a Gothic man speak of "horrible"? What will ye? Will ye lie and hunger? Will ye devour one the other, like rats? Good. But I shall not do it with ye! Not I! To-morrow, I take spear and shield, and go to gain on my own account the bit of death for which I long and languish like a thief since ye made me leader of your lost cause.--And thou at least, my old companion, thou comest with me--eh?
Ildibad (falling down before him).
I thank thee, Sire! Why ask whether I come!
All.
We too, King. We all, we all!
Theodemir.
Thou shouldst be praised, King, that thou hast pointed to us the way of happiness. And be not angry with us, if we were not able straightway to follow thee. Now I perceive clearly thy great thought. From grief and discord and despair, we rise, we do not go down to death.... Laughing, treadeth each on the other's corpse, in order laughing to sink down like him.... A light will go forth from us over the wide world.... Ah, that will be a draught from golden goblets--that will be a riot of exultant joy. Thank thee, my King. Often have I envied thee thy crown, now I venture to envy it no more.