The household of Gordian seemed untouched by common cares; though
thoroughly human its domestic life, it had something of the calm,
the silence, of a monastery. None entered save those whom husband
and wife held in affection or in respect; idle gaiety was unknown
beneath their roof, and worldly ambition had no part in their
counsels. Because of the reverence these things inspired in him, and
because of his longing to speak with a pure-hearted woman who held
him in kindness, Basil again presented himself at his kinsman's
door. He was led directly to an inner room, where sat Silvia.
The severe fasts of Lent had left their mark upon the young face,
yet it was fresh and smooth in its delicate pallor, and almost
maidenly in its gentle smile. Silvia had blue eyes, and hair of the
chestnut hue; a simple, white fillet lay above her forehead; her
robe was of pale russet, adorned with the usual purple stripes and
edged with embroidery; on each hand she wore but one ring. When the
visitor entered, she was nursing her child, a boy of four years old,
named Gregorius, but at once she put him to sit upon a little stool
beside her.
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