'
'One thing I have to say,' pursued Basil, 'which you will perhaps
find less amusing.' He had lost control of himself, and spoke in a
low tone of fierce menace, all his body quivering. 'If I learn that
Veranilda is in the hands of the Greeks, and that _you_ delivered
her to them--by the God above us, your life shall pay for it.'
Petronilla's face hardened till its cruel sternness outdid any
expression of hatred possible to Basil's features.
'Keep your ruffian threats for more suitable occasion, such as you
will find among your friends the Goths.' She spoke coldly and
deliberately. 'If enslavement to a yellow. haired barbarian had not
muddled your wits, you would long ago have seen who it was that has
played you false.'
Basil stared at her, his passion chilled with surprise and alarm.
'Played me false!' he echoed involuntarily.
'Who is it,' continued Petronilla with slow scorn, 'that you have
trusted blindly? To whom have you looked for guidance and
protection? Who has fostered your suspicion against _me_?'
An intolerable pang went through the listener's heart.
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