She had begged his
permission to visit him again, with Veranilda, and he had consented;
but a few days must pass before that, as the holy man was called
away she knew not whither. When he summoned them they must go forth
in early morning, to a certain cave near at hand, where Sisinnius
would say mass and administer to them the communion. Hearing such
news, Veranilda gladdened.
'Will the holy man reveal our fate to us?' she asked, with a child's
simplicity.
'To me he has already uttered a prophetic word,' answered Aurelia,
'but I may not repeat it, no, not even to you. Enough that it has
filled my soul with wonder and joy.'
'May that joy also be mine!' said Veranilda, pressing her hands
together.
This afternoon, when Basil sat with her and Aurelia, she took her
cithern, and in a low voice sang songs she had heard her mother
sing, in the days before shame and sorrow fell upon Theodenantha.
There were old ballads of the Goths, oftener stern than tender, but
to the listeners, ignorant of her tongue, Veranilda's singing made
them sweet as lover's praise. One little song was Greek; it was all
she knew of that language, and the sole inheritance that had come to
her from her Greek-loving grandparent, the King Theodahad.
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