Slowly sank the sun behind the green hills of FÆsulÆ, and gilded the columns in front of the simple country-house of which Rauthgundis was the mistress.

The Gothic servants and Italian slaves were busy concluding the day's work.

The stable-man was fetching the young horses from the pasture; two other servants were bringing a herd of fine cattle home from the fields to the stable; while the goatherd, with Roman invectives, was driving forward his protÉgÉs, which stopped here and there to nibble the salty saxifrage which grew upon the broken walls of the road.

Other labourers were housing the agricultural implements in the large yard, and a Roman freedman, a very learned and superior personage, the upper gardener himself, left, with a contented look, the place where he practised his blooming and sweet-scented science.

Our little friend Athalwin, with his crown of bright golden hair, was just issuing from the stables.

"Don't forget, Kakus," he cried, "to throw a rusty nail into the water-bucket. Wachis spoke of it particularly. Then he need not beat thee when he comes home."

And he banged the door to.

"Nothing but trouble with these Italian servants," said the little master, with an air of importance. "Since father went away, and Wachis joined him in the camp, everything lies upon my shoulders; for mother is enough for the maids, but the men need a master."

And the little lad marched with great gravity across the yard.

"And they have no proper respect for me," he continued, pouting his cherry lips and ruffing his white forehead. "How should they? At the next equinox I shall be fully nine years old, and they still let me go about with a thing like a kitchen spoon;" and he pulled contemptuously at the little wooden sword hanging to his belt.

"They ought to give me a hunting-knife, a real weapon. With this I can do nothing, and I look like nothing!"

Yet he looked very lovely, like an angry Cupid, in his short sleeveless coat of the finest white linen, which the loving hand of his mother had spun, sewed, and embroidered with an ornamental red stripe.

"I should like very much to run into the fields and get the wild flowers for mother which she loves so much, far more than our finest garden flowers; but I must look round before they shut the doors, for, 'Athalwin,' said father, as he left us, 'take good care of the place, and protect thy mother. I rely upon thee;' and I shook hands upon it, so I must keep my word."

So saying, he went across the yard, past the front of the dwelling-house, looked into all the offices on the left, and was just about to turn to the back of the square court, when he was attracted by the loud barking of some young dogs at a noise which was heard behind the wooden fence which enclosed the whole.

He went towards the corner, and started back in surprise; for on the fence sat, or rather climbed, a strange figure.

It was a tall, haggard old man in a coarse doublet of rough cloth, such as was worn by mountain shepherds; instead of a mantle, an immense undressed wolfskin hung over his shoulders, and in his right hand he carried a long staff with a steel point, with which he warded off the dogs, who angrily sprang at the fence.

The boy ran up.

"Stop, thou strange man! What art thou doing at my fence? Wilt get down at once!"

The old man started, and looked keenly at the handsome boy.

"Down, I say!" repeated the lad.

"Is this the way one greets a tired wanderer at this house!" asked the intruder.

"Yes, when the tired wanderer climbs over the back fence. Art thou honest and meanest honestly--in front stands the great yard-gate wide open; come in there!"

"I know that very well."

And the man prepared to climb down into the courtyard.

"Stop!" cried the boy angrily; "thou shalt not come down there. At him, Gruffo! At him, Wulfo! And if thou art not afraid of the two young ones, I will call the old one! Then take care! Hey! Thursa! Thursa! stop him!"

At this cry an immense bristly grey wolf-hound darted round the corner of the stable with a furious bark, and was about to spring at the intruder's throat. But she had scarcely reached the fence, when her rage was suddenly changed into joy; she ceased to bark, and, wagging her tail, sprang up to the old man, who now climbed leisurely down.

"Yes, yes, Thursa, faithful bitch, we remember each other," he said. "Now tell me, little man, what is thy name?"

"I am called Athalwin," answered the boy, retreating shyly; "but thou--I believe thou hast bewitched the dog--what art thou called?"

"Like thee," said the old man, in a more friendly manner; "I am glad thou hast my name. But be quiet; I am no robber! Lead me to thy mother, that I may tell her how bravely thou hast defended thy home."

And so the two adversaries walked peacefully into the house, Thursa leaping on in front with joyful barks.

The Gothic housewife had changed, with slight alteration, the Corinthian atrium of this Roman villa, with its rows of pillars on four sides, into the hall of the Germanic dwelling.

In the absence of her husband it was not wanted for gay hospitality, and Rauthgundis had brought her maids here from the women's room, to enjoy the larger space and fresher air.

There sat a long row of Gothic maidens with their noisy spindles; opposite to them a few Roman women slaves, occupied in finer work.

In the middle of the hall walked Rauthgundis, and let her own swiftly-turning spindle dance upon the smooth mosaic pavement, at the same time turning frequently to look at the maids.

Her dark-blue dress of home manufacture was gathered up above one knee, and puffed out over a belt of steel rings, which, her only ornament, bore a bunch of keys.

Her auburn hair was combed, back from the brow and temples, and twined into a simple knot at the back of the head.

There was much simple dignity in her aspect as she paced the room with grave and examining looks. She went up to one of the youngest of the maids, who sat lowest in the row, and bent over her.

"Well done, Liuta," she said; "thy thread is smooth, and thou hast not so often looked up at the door to-day. Certainly," she added with a smile, "there is not much merit in that, as Wachis cannot enter."

The young girl blushed.

Rauthgundis laid her hand kindly upon her smooth hair.

"I know," she said, "that thou art angry with me in secret, because I made thee, the betrothed, work all this year an hour longer, morning and evening, than the other maids. It was cruel, was it not? Well, see! it was for thine own good. All that thou hast spun this year of my best flax is thine; I give it thee for thy new household. Then thou wilt not need to spin next year, the first of thy married life."

The girl took her hand, and looked up gratefully, with tearful eyes.

"And you they call hard and severe!" was all that she could say.

"Mild with the good, severe with the bad, Liuta. All that is under my care is the property of my husband, and the inheritance of my boy. Therefore I must be strict."

Just then the old man and Athalwin appeared at the door. The boy wanted to call out, but the old man held his hand over his mouth, and, for a while, observed unremarked the actions of Rauthgundis as she examined the maids' work, praised, scolded, and arranged new tasks.

"Yes," at last said the old man to himself, "she looks very stately, and seems to be mistress in the house--yet, who knows all!"

And now it was no more possible to hold Athalwin back.

"Mother!" he cried, "a strange man! who has bewitched Thursa, and climbed over the fence, and wants to come to thee! I cannot understand it!"

The stately woman turned to the door with dignity, holding her hand over her eyes, to shade them from the dazzling evening sun, which shone full into the doorway.

"Why dost thou lead the guest here? Thou knowest that thy father is not at home. Take him into the men's hall; his place is not here with me."

"But it is, Rauthgundis! Here, with thee, is my place!" cried the old man, coming forward.

"Father!" cried Rauthgundis, and threw herself into the stranger's arms.

Puzzled, and not without displeasure, Athalwin looked on at this meeting.

"So thou art grandfather, who lives up in the northern mountains? God be with thee, grandfather! But why didst thou not tell me at once? And why didst thou not come through the gate, like other honest folk?"

The old man held his daughter by both hands, and looked inquiringly into her eyes.

"She looks happy and blooming," he murmured to himself.

Rauthgundis composed herself. She cast a quick look round the hall.

All the spindles had ceased whirling--except Liuta's--all eyes were curiously fixed upon the old man.

"Will you spin directly, curious girls!" cried Rauthgundis reprovingly. "Thou, Marcia, hast let the flax fell with thy staring; thou knowest the custom--thou wilt spin another spoolful. You others can leave your work. Come, father! Liuta, prepare a tepid bath, and meat and wine----"

"No," said the old man; "the old peasant in the mountains has only the waterfall for bath and drink. And as to eating--outside the fence, near the boundary-stone, lies my knapsack; fetch it for me. There I have my wheaten bread and my sheep's-milk cheese.--What cattle hast thou in the stall, and horses in the pasture?"

It was his first question.

An hour after--it was already dark, and little Athalwin had gone to bed, shaking his head over his grandfather--father and daughter wandered into the open air in the light of the rising moon.

"I have not air enough inside," the old man had said.

They spoke much and earnestly as they walked up and down the court-yard and garden. Between whiles, the old man put questions about the household, such as were suggested by the implements or buildings near him; and in his tone lay no tenderness; only sometimes he secretly examined the countenance of his child with a loving look.

"Do cease talking about rye and horses," at last said Rauthgundis, "and tell me how it has gone with thee these long years? And what has at last brought thee down from the mountains to thy children?"

"How has it gone with me? pretty lonely! lonely! and cold winters! Yes, it is not so pleasant and warm up there as here in the Italian valley."

He spoke as if in reproach.

"Why did I come down? Well, last year the breeding-bull fell down from the Firn-joch, and so I wanted to buy another here."

Rauthgundis could no longer contain herself; she affectionately embraced the old man and cried:

"And no bull was to be found nearer than here? Do not lie, father, to thine own heart and to thine own child. Thou art come because thou couldst not help it, because thou couldst no more endure thy longing for thy child!"

The old man stroked her hair.

"How dost thou know that? Well, yes, I wanted to see how it went with thee, and how he keeps thee--the Gothic Earl!"

"Like the apple of his eye!" cried Rauthgundis joyfully.

"Indeed? Why, then, is he not at home with wife and child in his house and farm?"

"He serves in the King's army."

"Yes, that is just it! What has he to do with service and a king? But, tell me, why dost not wear a golden bracelet? A Gothic woman once came our way from the Italian valleys, five years ago; she had gold a hand broad. Then I thought, such thy daughter wears. And I was pleased, and now----"

Rauthgundis smiled.

"Shall I wear gold to please my maids? I only put on ornaments when Witichis sees me."

"Indeed! May he deserve it! But thou hast golden brooches and rings, like other Gothic wives down here?"

"More than others--chests full. Witichis brought a great booty from the wars."

"So thou art quite happy?"

"Quite, father, but not because of the gold bracelets."

"Hast thou nothing to complain of? Only tell me, child! Whatever it may be, tell it to thy old father, and he will see thee righted."

Rauthgundis stopped short in her walk.

"Father, speak not thus! Thou art wrong to speak so, nor is it right for me to listen. Cast it off, this unhappy delusion, as if I must necessarily be unhappy because I came into the valley. I verily believe this fear alone has brought thee down."

"That alone!" cried the old man, striking his staff upon the ground. "And thou callest thy father's deepest conviction a delusion! Last night I saw thee and Witichis in a dream. He banqueted in a gilded hall, among proud men and lovely women, richly clothed; but thou wert standing outside the door in a beggar's dress, and wept bitter tears and called to him. But he said, 'Who is this woman? I know her not!' And I could no longer rest upon the mountains. Something drew me down; I felt obliged to come and see if my child was well cared for in the valley; and I wished to surprise him, therefore I would not enter thy house by the gate."

"Father," said Rauthgundis angrily, "one should not think such things, even in a dream. Thy mistrust----"

"Mistrust? I trust no one but myself, and the dream told me distinctly that a misfortune threatens thee! Avoid it! Take thy boy and go back with me; only for a short time. Believe me, thon wilt quickly love again the free air up there, where one can overlook all the land."

"I leave my husband? Never!"

"Has he not left thee? The court, and the service of kings, is more to him than wife and child! Then let him have his will."

"Father," said Rauthgundis, grasping his hand, "not a word more. Didst thou, then, not love my mother, that thou canst speak so to a wedded wife? My Witichis is all in all to me; the air and light of life. And he loves me with all his faithful heart; we are one. And if he thinks it right to work and act apart from me, then it is right. He serves the cause of his people, and between me and him there shall not be a word, not a shadow, not even a father!"

The old man was silent, but his doubts were not removed.

"Why," he re-commenced after a pause, "why does he not take thee with him, if he has such important affairs at court? Is he ashamed of the peasant's daughter?" and he struck his staff angrily on the ground.

"Anger blinds thee! Thou art vexed because he has taken me away from the mountain into the Italian valley, and art equally vexed because he does not take me to Rome, amongst the Italians!"

"And thou shalt not go there! But he ought to wish it; he ought not to be able to live without thee. But the King's general is no doubt ashamed of the peasant's child."

Just then, before Rauthgundis could answer, a horseman galloped up to the closed gate, before which they happened to be standing.

"Up! open!" he cried, striking the gate-post with his war-club.

"Who is there!" asked the old man cautiously.

"Open! A king's messenger should not be kept waiting so!"

"It is Wachis!" exclaimed Rauthgundis, pushing back the heavy bolt. "What brings thee back so unexpectedly!"

"It is you who open to me!" cried the faithful man. "Oh, hail! all hail, Queen of the Goths! Your lord is chosen King. With my own eyes I saw him lifted upon the shield! He greets you, and calls you and Athalwin to Rome. In three days you must depart."

In the midst of all her fright and surprise and joy and questioning, Rauthgundis could not help casting a joyful and proud look at her father. Then she threw herself upon his neck and wept.

"Well, father," she asked, when she had again composed herself, "what sayest thou now?"

"What do I say? The misfortune that I foresaw has come! Even to-night will I return to my mountains!"