But I
had not long to wait for an explanation of his insolence. Whom
should I next meet but the solemn-visaged Opilio. "So your friend
Basil," he began, "has forgotten his Gothic love?" We talked, and I
learnt from him that you were the hot rival of Vivian for
Heliodora's favour. Nay, I do but repeat what you ought to hear. Can
such gossip begin without cause? Tell me now, how often have you
been yonder since I left Rome?'
Basil could scarce contain himself. He had visited Heliodora, yes,
but merely because he would neglect no chance of learning where
Veranilda was imprisoned; it was not impossible that through this
woman such a secret might be discovered. He the rival of that
debauched boy! He the lover of Heliodora! Had he sunk so low in the
esteem of his best friend? Why, then, it was time indeed to be gone:
befall him what might, he could not be unhappier in Constantinople
than here in Rome.
At these words, Marcian checked him with a surprised inquiry. What
had turned his thoughts to Constantinople? Basil related the events
of yesterday and of this morning.
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