Is it true that you have taken a wife?'
Basil, in whom fatigue and misery had left little patience, began
quivering in every nerve, and made blunt answer:
'It is not true, arid she who told you contrived the lie.'
'You speak of the lady Petronilla,' pursued Gordian gently. 'Can I
think that she has wilfully deceived me?'
'Think it not, my lord Gordian,' returned the other; 'if Petronilla
told you I was married, she lied.'
'That is strange indeed. Listen, I pray you, to the story heard in
Rome since Petronilla returned. It is right that you should hear it
just as it comes from her own lips.'
Thereupon Gordian repeated a narrative which would have been
substantially true had it not crowned Basil's love with marriage.
The listener, shaken with violent passion, could scarce wait till
the end.
'And now hear _me_,' he cried. 'If I were prudent, I also should
lie, for the truth may be dangerous. But you shall know it, O
Gordian, and if you choose to harm me--'
The other raised a hand, and so full of dignity was this gesture, so
solemn the look which accompanied it, that Basil's vehemence felt
itself rebuked; he grew silent and listened.
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