_FIFTEENTH SCENE_.
THE SAME. _Except_ AMALABERGA _and_ BALTHILDA.
Teja.
(_Stares after them, rouses himself, and perceives the Bishop_.)
Bishop, I treated thee basely this evening. Forgive me and have my
thanks, for surely I also know why the Goth loveth death.... (_Grasps
his sword_.) Now be ye ready? Have the farewells been said?
Theodemir.
Sire, we have disobeyed thy command. Which of our wives betrayed it,
and which of us told it, that cannot be determined. Enough, they all
know it.
Teja.
And then have cried ah and woe?
Theodemir.
Sire, they have silently kissed the blessing of death upon our brows.
Teja (_exclaims half to himself_).
They also! (_Aloud_.) Truly we are a nation of kings. It is our
misfortune. So come! (_He strides to the background. The others follow.
Amid the noisy cries of the people greeting the King, the curtain
falls_.)