rcian!' uttered the low, sweet voice. 'Oh, true and brave
friend!'

In silence they walked together to the priest's house. Marcian had now
put off all irresolution. He gave orders to his guard; as soon as the
horses had sufficiently rested, they would push on for Aletrium, and
there pass the night. The start was made some two hours after noon.
Riding once more beside the carriage, Marcian felt his heart light:
passions and fears were all forgotten; the sun flaming amid the pale
blue sky, the violet shadows of the mountains, the voice of cicadas
made rapture to his senses. It was as though Veranilda's beauty, not
even yet beheld, rayed something of itself upon all the visible world.
Never had a summer's day shone so gloriously for him; never had he so
marked the hues of height and hollow, the shape of hills, the winding
of a stream. Where an ascent made the pace slow, he alighted, walked by
the vehicle, and exchanged a few words with her who sat behind the
curtain.

At length Aletrium came in view, a little town in a strong position on
the mountain side, its walls and citadel built in old time, long unused
for defence, but resisting ages with their cyclopean force. On
arriving, they found a scene of disorder, misery and fear. This morning
the place had been attacked by a brigand horde, which had ravaged at
will: the church was robbed of its sacred vessels, the beasts of burden
were driven away, and, worst of all, wives and daughters of the
defenceless townsmen had suffered outrage. Marcian, with that air of
authority which he well knew how to assume, commanded the attendance of
the leading citizens and spoke with them in private. Finding them eager
for the arrival of the Goths, to whom they looked rather than to the
distant Greeks for protection against ruinous disorder (already they
had despatched messengers to Totila entreating his aid), he made known
to them that he was travelling to meet the Gothic outposts, and
promised to hasten the king's advance. At present, there seemed to be
no more danger, the marauders having gone on into the Apennines; so
Marcian obtained lodging for Veranilda and for himself in the priest's
house. Only when he was alone did he reflect upon the narrowness of his
escape from those fierce plunderers, and horror shook him. There
remained but half a day's journey to his villa. He was so impatient to
arrive there, and to dismiss the horsemen, that though utterly wearied,
he lay awake through ma