Bubbling
over with wrath against Heliodora, she at once sought out Marcian,
acquainted him with all that had happened, and made evident her
desire to be in some way avenged. Marcian saw in this trivial affair
the opportunity for a scheme of the gravest import; difficult,
perilous, perhaps impracticable, but so tempting in its
possibilities that he soon resolved to hazard everything on the
chance of success. Basil's departure from Rome, which he had desired
for other reasons, fell pat for the device now shaping itself in his
mind. A day or two after, early in the morning, he went to
Heliodora's house, and sent in a message begging private speech with
the lady. As he had expected, he was received forthwith, Heliodora
being aware of his friendship with Basil. Between her and Marcian
the acquaintance was but slight; he had hitherto regarded her as
unserviceable, because too dangerous. It was because of her
dangerous qualities that he now sought her, and his courage grew as
the conversation became intimate.
He began with a confession. Head hanging, visage gloomy, in slow,
indirect, abashed language, he let it be understood that though
truly Basil's friend, he had all along been secretly doing his
utmost to frustrate the lover's search for the Gothic maiden
Veranilda, and, as part of this purpose, had striven to turn Basil's
thoughts to Heliodora.
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