But when he rode on over the
grass-grown pavement, he was as little observant of the arches,
statues, galleries, and of that great column soaring between
Basilica and Temple, as of the people who moved hither and thither,
sparse, diminutive. Still brooding, he came into the Via Lata and to
the house of Marcian.
Marcian, said the porter, was closeted with certain visitors.
'Make known to him,' said Basil, 'that I would speak but a word in
private.'
They met in the atrium. Marcian smiled oddly.
'If you come to tell me what you have heard this afternoon,' he
whispered, 'spare your breath. I know it already.'
'How can that be?'
'I have seen an angry woman. Angry women are always either very
mischievous or very useful. In this case I hope to make use of her.
But I can tell you nothing yet, and I would that you were far from
Rome. Could I but persuade you to be gone, dear Basil.'
'I need no more persuading,' replied the other, with sudden resolve.
'If it be true that I am free to leave the city, I go hence
to-morrow.'
Marcian's face lighted up.
'To Asculum, then?'
'Since here I have no hope.
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