esult of private quarrel; but
some of the slaves declared that this armed company came in advance of
the Gothic host; and presently the loss of their master was all but
forgotten in anxiety as to their own fate at the hands of the Emperor.

This talk was interrupted by the approach of Basil's men, who came to
seek a meal for themselves and forage for their horses. Having no
choice but to obey, the servants went about the work required of them.
A quiet fell upon the house. The strangers talked little, and, when
they spoke, subdued their voices. In still chambers and corridors was
heard now and then a sound of weeping.

Basil, though he had given orders for departure as soon as the meal was
done, knew not whither his journey should be directed. A paralysis of
thought and will kept him pacing alone in the courtyard; food he could
not touch; of repose he was incapable; and though he constantly lifted
up his bloodstained hand, to gaze at it as if in bewildered horror, he
did not even think of washing the blood away. At moments he lost
consciousness of what he had done, his mind straying to things remote;
then the present came back upon him with a shock, seeming, however, to
strike on numbed senses, so that he had to say to himself, 'I have
slain Marcian,' before he could fully understand his suffering.

Veranilda was now scarce present to his mind at all. Something vaguely
outlined hovered in the background; something he durst not look at or
think about; the sole thing in the world that had reality for him was
the image of Marcian--stabbed, shrieking, falling, dead. Every minute
was the fearful scene re-enacted. More than once he checked himself in
his walk, seeming to be about to step on Marcian's body.

At length, seeing a shadow draw near, he raised his eyes and beheld
Gaudiosus. He tried to speak, but found that his tongue clave to the
roof of his mouth. Automatically he crossed himself, then caught the
priest's hand, and knelt and kissed it.

'Rise, my son,' said Gaudiosus, 'for I would talk with you.'

On one side of the courtyard was a portico with seats, and thither the
old man led.

'Unless,' he began gravely, 'unless the author of all falsehood--who is
so powerful over women--has entered into this maiden to baffle and
mislead me utterly, I feel assured that she is chaste; not merely
unsullied in the flesh, but as pure of heart as her fallen nature may
permit a woman to be.'

Basil gazed at him darkly.

'