Arrived at a certain point, the two looked at
each other and waved a hand; then Marcian, with Sagaris and one
other servant, pushed forward, whilst Basil, followed by the rest of
the train, took an ascending road to the right.
The house in which he was born, and where he alone now ruled, stood
on the summit of the Caelian. Before it stood the ruined temple of
Claudius, overlooking the Flavian Amphitheatre; behind it ranged the
great arches of the Neronian aqueduct; hard by were the round church
of St. Stephen and a monastery dedicated to St. Erasmus. By a
narrow, grass-grown road, between walls overhung with ivy, Basil
ascended the hill; but for the occasional bark of a dog, nothing
showed that these buildings of old time were inhabited; and when he
drew rein before his own portico, the cessation of the sound of
hoofs made a stillness like that among the Appian sepulchres.
Eyeless, hoary, with vegetation rooted here and there, the front of
the house gave no welcome. Having knocked, Basil had to wait for
some moments before there came a sign of opening. With drooped head,
he seemed to watch the lizards playing in the sunshine upon a marble
column.
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