It was night when I took leave of Priulf, my husband, at the gates.

I watched him as he departed with the army, and, when the darkness hid him from my eyes, I re-entered the town; from which I am the only woman of our nation who has escaped alive.' As she pronounced these last words, Goisvintha's manner, which had hitherto been calm and collected, began to change: she paused abruptly in her narrative, her head sunk upon her breast, her frame quivered as if convulsed with violent agony.

When she turned towards Hermanric after an interval of silence to address him again, the same malignant expression lowered over her countenance that had appeared on it when she presented to him her wounded child; her voice became broken, hoarse, and unfeminine; and pressing closely to the young man's side, she laid her trembling fingers on his arm, as if to bespeak his most undivided attention.
'Time grew on,' she continued, 'and still there came no tidings that the peace was finally secured.

We, that were hostages, lived separate from the people of the town; for we felt enmity towards each other even then.

In my captivity there was no employment for me but patience--no pursuit but hope.