'What
is his name?'
'Basilius, my lord,' replied Marcian, with grave respect.
'And what is he doing? Why does not a limber lad like that serve the
Emperor?'
'Your Magnanimity will recollect that the lord Basil had permission
to attend Maximus into Campania, whence he is but now returned.'
'Can't he speak for himself?' growled Bessas, turning sharply upon
Marcian. 'You have a tongue, lord Basil? Do you only use it among
the wenches?'
A subdued laugh sounded behind the commander's chair. The envoy from
Byzantium showed more discreet appreciation of the jest. And Basil,
his head bowed, would fain have concealed a face burning with angry
shame.
'I will do my best,' he replied in a steady voice, 'to answer any
question your excellence may put to me.'
'Come, that's better,' said the general, with that affectation of
bluff good-nature which always veiled his designs. 'I like the look
of you, my good Basil; who knows but we may be friends? By the bye,
was there not some special reason for your coming to see me?'
'Your excellence summoned me.'
'Yes, yes, I remember.
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