So Gordian
remounted his horse, and rode back home.
Basil lingered. He no longer entertained the suspicion that
Veranilda might be here, but he thought that, could he speak with
Petronilla herself, penitence might prompt her to tell him where the
captive lay hidden. It surprised him not at all to hear Leander's
name as that of her confidant in the matter, though hitherto his
thought had not turned in that direction. Leander signified the
Church, and what hope was there that he could gain his end against
such an opponent?--more formidable than Bessas, more powerful,
perhaps, than Justinian. Were Veranilda imprisoned in some
monastery, he might abandon hope of beholding her again on this side
of the grave.
Yet it was something to know that she had not passed into the hands
of the Greeks; that she was not journeying to the Byzantine court,
there to be wedded against her will. Cheered by this, he felt an
impulse of daring; he would see Petronilla.
'Leo! Lead me to the chamber.'
The freedman besought him not to be so rash, but Basil was possessed
with furious resolve.
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