His head drooped upon his heaving breast, and he sighed heavily as, without speaking, he grasped Goisvintha by the hand.

The object she had pleaded for was nearly attained;--he was fast sinking beneath the tempter's well-spread toils! 'Are you silent still ?' she gloomily resumed.

'Do you wonder at this longing for vengeance, at this craving for Roman blood?
I tell you that my desire has arisen within me, at promptings from the voices of an unknown world.

They urge me to seek requital on the nation who have widowed and bereaved me--yonder, in their vaunted city, from their pampered citizens, among their cherished homes--in the spot where their shameful counsels take root, and whence their ruthless treacheries derive their bloody source! In the book that our teachers worship, I have heard it read, that "the voice of blood crieth from the ground!" This is the voice--Hermanric, this is the voice that I have heard! I have dreamed that I walked on a shore of corpses, by a sea of blood--I have seen, arising from that sea, my husband's and my children's bodies, gashed throughout with Roman wounds! They have called to me through the vapour of carnage that was around them;--'Are we yet unavenged?
Is the sword of Hermanric yet sheathed ?' Night after night have I seen this vision and heard those voice, and hoped for no respite until the day that saw the army encamped beneath the walls of Rome, and raising the scaling ladders for the assault! And now, after all my endurance, how has that day arrived?
Accursed be the lust of treasure! It is more to the warriors, and to you, than the justice of revenge!' 'Listen! listen!' cried Hermanric entreatingly.
'I listen no longer!' interrupted Goisvintha.

'The tongue of my people is as a strange language in my ears; for it talks but of plunder and of peace, of obedience, of patience, and of hope! I listen no longer; for the kindred are gone that I loved to listen to--they are all slain by the Romans but you--and you I renounce!' Deprived of all power of consideration by the violence of the emotions awakened in his heart by Goisvintha's wild revelations of the evil passion that consumed her, the young Goth, shuddering throughout his whole frame, and still averting his face, murmured in hoarse, unsteady accents: 'Ask of me what you will.