easily guessed.'

'But must not be talked of here,' interrupted Basil, glancing at the
door. 'Let us find some more suitable place.'

They descended the dark, foul stairs, and went out together. Before the
house stood the two serving-men, who, as their masters walked away,
followed at a respectful distance. When safe from being overheard,
Basil recounted to his friend the course of events at the Surrentine
villa since Marcian's departure, made known his suspicion that Aurelia
had secretly returned to the Catholic faith. He then told of to day's
journey and its purpose, his hearer wearing a look of grave attention.

'Can it be,' asked Marcian, 'that you think of wedding this Gothic
beauty?'

'Assuredly,' answered Basil, with a laugh, 'I have thought of it.'

'And it looks as though Aurelia favoured your desire.'

'It has indeed something of that appearance.'

'Pray you now, dear lord,' said Marcian, 'be sober awhile. Have you
reflected that, with such a wife, you would not dare return to Rome?'

Basil had not regarded that aspect of the matter, but his friend's
reasoning soon brought him to perceive the danger he would lightly have
incurred. Dangers, not merely those that resulted from the war; could
he suppose, asked Marcian, that Heliodora would meekly endure his
disdain, and that the life of Veranilda would be safe in such a rival's
proximity? Hereat, Basil gnashed his teeth and handled his dagger. Why
return to Rome at all? he cried impatiently. He had no mind to go
through the torments of a long siege such as again threatened. Why
should he not live on in Campania--

'And tend your sheep or your goats?' interrupted Marcian, with his
familiar note of sad irony. 'And pipe _sub tegmine fagi_ to your
blue-eyed Amaryllis? Why not, indeed? But what if; on learning the
death of Maximus, the Thracian who rules yonder see fit to command your
instant return, and to exact from you an account of what you have
inherited? Bessas loses no time--suspecting--perhaps--that his tenure
of a fruitful office may not be long.'

'And if the suspicion be just?' said Basil, gazing hard at his friend.

'Well, if it be?' said the other, returning the look.

'Should we not do well to hold far from Rome, looking to King Totila,
whom men praise, as a deliverer of our land from hateful tyranny?'

Marcian laid a hand on his friend's shoulder.

'O, brave Basil!' he murmured, with a smile. 'O, nobly confident in
those you love! Never