A Struggle for Rome, v. 3
Page 45
CHAPTER VIII.
Very gravely, but no more in a melting mood, Adalgoth told his youngwife of the resolve of the King, and of the last alternative betweendeath and a shameful slavery.
He expected an outbreak of wild grief, such as it had been so difficulteven for him to repress. But, to his astonishment, Gotho remainedunshaken.
"I have foreseen this long ago, my Adalgoth! It is no misfortune; tolose what we love, and still live, that alone is a misfortune. I haveattained to the highest earthly bliss, I am thy wife. Whether I shallhave been so for ten years or for twenty, or for scarcely half a year,alters nothing. At least we shall die together on the same day,possibly at the same hour. For King Teja will not forbid thee--whenthou hast done thy part in the last battle, and, perhaps wounded, canstfight no longer--he will not forbid thee to come and take me in thinearms--how often hast thou carried me on the Iffinger!--and leap with meinto the abyss. Oh, Adalgoth!" she cried, passionately embracing him,"how happy we have been! We will show that we were worthy of suchbliss, by dying bravely, without cowardly lament. The scion of theBalthe," and she smiled, "shall not say that the shepherd's daughtercould not keep pace with his nobility. There arises in my soul a visionof the grandeur of our mountains! My grandfather, Iffa, admonished me,when I left him, to call to mind the fresh and free air of ourmountains, and the strict and noble severity of the proud heights,should ever life in the narrow, small, gilded chambers here belowseem too paltry for our souls. We have not been menaced with that, butnow, when it is necessary to raise our minds from timid, tendersorrow--which almost crept over me--and to gain strength for a nobleresolve, the remembrance of my native mountains has made me strong.'Shame on thee,' I said to myself, 'shame on thee, daughter of themountains! What would the Iffinger, and the Wolfshead, and all thestony giants say, if they saw the shepherdess despair? Be worthy of thymountains and of thy hero husband.'"
Adalgoth pressed his young wife to his bosom, with mingled pride andjoy.
Behind the tent of the Duke lay the low hut, made of dried branches,where dwelt Wachis and Liuta. Liuta, who had heard from Gotho what fatemenaced them, had been obliged to use all her powers of persuasion uponher husband (who sat shaking his head and hammering and patching hisshield, which had been sadly defaced, by Longobardian arrows in thelast watch he had held at the mouth of the pass, and who now began towhistle to hide his suppressed sobs) before she could raise him to alike enthusiasm of renunciation.
"I do not think," said the honest man, "that the Lord of heaven can seeit done. I am one of those who never like to say, 'All is over!' Theproud ones, those who hold their heads high, like King Teja and DukeAdalgoth, certainly run constantly against the beams of fate. But wesmall people, who can stoop and bend, easily find a mouse-hole or achink in the wall by which to escape. It is too vile! miserable! cruel!rascally!"--and each word was accompanied by a sounding stroke with hishammer. "I will not believe it! I cannot believe that hundreds of goodwomen, pretty girls, lisping children, and stammering old men, mustjump into the hellish fire of this accursed mountain! As if it were buta merry bonfire! As if they would come out at the other side safe andsound! I might just as well have let thee burn in the house at Faesulae.And not only thou must burn, but also our expected child, whom I havealready named Witichis."
"Or Rauthgundis," said Liuta, blushing, as she bent over her husband'sshoulder and stopped his hammering. "Let this name admonish thee,Wachis! Think of our beloved mistress. Was she not a thousand timesbetter than Liuta, the poor maid-servant? And would she have hesitatedor refused to die on the same day with all her people?"
"Thou art right, wife!" exclaimed Wachis, with a last furious stroke ofhis hammer. "Thou knowest I am a peasant, and peasants do not at alllike to die. But if the heavens fall, they strike down peasants as wellas others; and before it happens--ha-ha!--I will deal many a famousstroke! That would please Sir Witichis and Mistress Rauthgundis rightwell also. In honour of them--yes, thou art right, Liuta--we will livebravely--and, if it cannot be otherwise, bravely die!"