The whole scene, with its background of great woods, drenched in a vapour of misty rain, with its striking contrasts at one point and its solemn harmonies at another, presented a vast combination of objects that either startled or awed--a gloomy conjunction of the menacing and the sublime.
Bidding Goisvintha wait near the waggon, one of her conductors approached and motioned aside a young man standing near the king.

As the warrior rose to obey the demand, he displayed, with all the physical advantages of his race, and ease and elasticity of movement unusual among the men of his nation.

At the instant when he joined the soldier who had accosted him, his face was partially concealed by an immense helmet, crowned with a boar's head, the mouth of which, forced open at death, gaped wide, as if still raging for prey.

But the man had scarcely stated his errand, when he started violently, removed the grim appendage of war, and hastened bare-headed to the side of the waggon where Goisvintha awaited his approach.
The instant he was beheld by the woman, she hastened to meet him; placed the wounded child in his arms, and greeted him with these words:-- 'Your brother served in the armies of Rome when our people were at peace with the Empire.

Of his household and his possessions this is all that the Romans have left!' She ceased, and for an instant the brother and sister regarded each other in touching and expressive silence.