s faithful
attendants who had come to see if all was well with him. He asked for
water, and the man fetched him a draught. It was yet long till dawn.

Now he could not lie still, for fever burned him. Though awake, he saw
visions, and once sent forth what seemed to him a yell of terror; but
in truth it was only a moan, and no one heard. He relived through the
fight with the marauders; sickened with dread at the gleam of weapons;
flamed into fury, and shouted with savage exultation as he felt his
sword cut the neck of an enemy. He was trying to think of Veranilda,
but all through the night her image eluded him, and her name left him
cold. He was capable only of hatred. At daybreak he slept heavily; the
men, approaching him and looking at his haggard face, thought better to
let him rest, and only after sunrise did he awake. He was angry that
they had not aroused him sooner, got speedily to horse, and rode off
almost at the same speed as yesterday. Now, at all events, he drew near
to his goal; for a ride of an hour or two he needed not to spare his
beast; sternly he called to his men to follow him close.

And all at once, as though his brain were restored by the freshness of
the morning, he grasped the thought which had eluded him. Marcian's
treachery was no new thing: twice he had been warned against his
seeming friend, by Petronilla and by Bessas, and in his folly he had
scorned the accusation which time had now so bitterly justified.
Forgotten, utterly forgotten, until this moment; yet how blinded he
must have been by his faith in Marcian's loyalty not to have reflected
upon many circumstances prompting suspicion. Marcian had perhaps been
false to him from the very day of Veranilda's disappearance, and how
far did his perfidy extend? Had he merely known where she was
concealed, or had he seen her, spoken with her, wooed her all along? He
had won her; so much was plain; and he could scarce have done so during
the brief journey to his villa. O villainous Marcian! O fickle, wanton
Veranilda!

So distinct before his fiery imagination shone the image of those two
laughing together, walking alone (as Sagaris had reported), that all
reasoning, such as a calmer man might have entertained, was utterly
forbidden. Not a doubt crossed his mind. And in his heart was no desire
but of vengeance.

At length he drew near to Arpinum. Avoiding the town, he questioned a
peasant at work in the fields, and learnt his way to the island. J