Veranilda

t's-thorn; at one end was a fountain in a great basin of porphyry, at the other a little temple, v

t told of fine instincts, delicate sensibilities, love of laughter. No less did his costume differ from the student's huddled garb; his tunic was finely embroidered in many hues, his silken cloak had a great buckle of gold on the shoulder; he wore ornate shoes, and by his waist

onversed of their kinswoman with perfect openness, pitying rather than condemning her, and wondering what would result from her presence under one roof with the rigid Petronilla. Not on Aurelia's account did Basil droop his head now and the

ncess-a lady of the lineage of

us, with a puzzled smil

n be. Did not the direct line of Theodoric end with Athalaric

us, 'though I have thought

eful carelessness; no actor he. 'And the vi

id the other musingly,

who did well to give his throat to the butcher as he r

the air. At this moment there appeared in the alley a serving man, a young and active f

Felix?' inqui

ar or two his elder, was less favoured by nature in face and form: tall and vigorous enough of carriage, he showed more bone and sinew than flesh; and his face might have been that of a man worn by much fasting, so deep sunk were the eyes, so jutting the cheek-bones, and so sharp the chin;

, it would have been to see Marcian. I thought you still in Rome. What makes you travel? Not in these days solely to visit a frie

e spoke as one who feels a scornful impatience with the affairs of men. 'At Rome, they wrangle about goats' wool, as is their won

contemptuously

can you and I be satisfied with less than ex-Praetorian-Prefect? What wil

long as a wealthy fool remains in the city-

ar my lord?' urged Basil

rave eye, his friend r

y upon

n very

aitor to both sides. There has been talk of you in Rome. Nay, who knows how or why! They have nothing to do but talk, and these victories of the Go

his name and uttered an idle laugh. From a wallet h

e hid it away. 'Having said so much, you must tell me more. Put off that sardonic mask-I kn

ing a spy, and being himself a born traitor, he readily believed me at his beck; in truth he had long marked me, so I found, for a cankered soul who waited but the occasion to advance by infamy. I held the cre

ener, 'I could make a gu

eed it matters nothing. Enough that

ll my love is already yours. And she-Heliodora,' he ad

Though indeed she may know more than I suppose.

d perhaps that her

dead?' excl

suddenly-after supper.

m the listener. Upon Basil's face came a deep flush; he to

You think-?'

said the other, 'as you well know.

d with gold thread, and on the paper was written, in Greek, 'I am free.'

ft Rome, I told you that I would gladly see her no more, and you smiled dubiously. Belie

ll beg to be excused,' replied M

On the way, Basil communicated to his friend in a whisper the event of the day. A couple of hours having passed since Aurelia's coming, the Senator had in some degree recovered from his agitation; he lay now in a room which opened upon the central court of the villa, a room adorned

ord Marcian? How are all our fri

h head bent. 'You are much desired in the Senate,

d of something he had long forgotten. 'They must needs la

curtained portals of the room; lastly, his eyes tu

or little,' fel

a friendly movement of the head. 'Here we ma

e will pass into Samnium. All the strongholds of Umbria are hi

the Roman

olding the plunder he has got, and lo

icantly, and the Sena

e rules

,' remarked B

d the sick man, 'Alexa

Between them came no shadow of distrust, the

e takes nothing by force; his soldiers buy at market; he protects the farmer against the taxing Greek. As a result, his army grows; where he pas

k of Belisarius. Hearing it, Basil

d fervently. 'There is the m

imus, looking sadly at his nephew, 'I

an more royal. I have seen him day by day commanding and taking counsel; I have talked with him in his privacy. In the camp before Ravenna there was but one voice, one hope, as to what should follow when

ght a thing?' fell from M

head, 'but he did break faith with us.

c humour. 'She must have mused long and anxiously, weighing the purple agai

a sigh. 'His one weakness. How,' he cried scornfully, 'can

r he felt the fever wasting what little strength remained to him; and when he was gone who would protect her against the enmities to which religion and avarice would expose her? Aurelia's resistance was sullen rather than resolute; her countenance, her words, suggested that she was thinking more of what it would cost her pride to become a penitent than of any obstacle in conscience. At length she declared plainly that never would she humiliate herself before her aunt Petronilla, who had offered her no greeting and held scornfully apart. Here, as Maximus too well knew, lay the great difficulty of the

. Better accommodation awaited the deacon Leander, whose arrival was announced an hour before sunset by a trotting courier. His journey from Salernum had so wearied the ecclesiastic that he could but give a hand to be kissed by his hostess, and straightway retire into privacy; the repast that was ready for him had to be served beside his couch, and soon after night had fallen, Leander slumbered peacefully. Meanwhile Basil and Decius and their friend from Rome had su

ae, and of the difficulty he had had in

alone there?' i

nd when Basil spoke his voice fell to

ode with her; but she had a companion-a lady-very young.

sly thrown out for he had little interest in Au

ed. 'A Goth; and, she says, of the ro

n narration. He told how, on his first introduction to Aurelia's presence, he had found sitting with her a young girl, whose aspect proclaimed her of the Gothic race. In a second interview with his cousin, alone, Aurel

rn her name?' as

anil

odious syllables, but

o inquiry of those

, and purposely held apart from our acquaintances

second sig

nd meaningless when I would use them to depict Veranilda. Shall I tell you that she has hair of the purest gold, eyes brighter tha

t utters them sets me smiling. Talk on. The chaste god

shrank in abhorrence when I saw that letter this morning; and how fain I would blot from my memory that baseness of the past! O M

it possible that, on a mere glimpse, this G

ust. Her voice, Marcian! This whisper of the night breeze in the laurels falls rudely upon the ear after Veranilda's speech. Never have I heard a ton

orned her origin? Golden hair and blue eyes

austed language in the effort to prove how remote was Veranilda from any sha

rk, when his friend had become silent. 'King Theodahad

' murmured Ba

ed Rhegium to Belisarius, and enjoys his reward a

d the suggest

of it myself; but no. Aurelia

her-who was the daughter of Theodahad, who was the son

of a mercenary traitor, who opened Italy to his people's

ith your eyes? But perhaps we conjecture idly quite missing the mark. Wh

end turned to speak of the ecclesiastical visitor who had that evening arrived, and, the