'Why, lord Marcian, do you come to tell me this? Basil has quitted
Rome. You can scarce ask me to pursue him.'
'Lady,' was the sad reply, 'I will not even yet abandon hope. But
this is not the moment to plead his cause with you, and indeed I
came with a thought more selfish.'
Ready to believe whatever might be uttered with such preface,
Heliodora smiled and bade the speaker continue. Again Marcian's head
drooped; again his words became hesitant, vague. But their purpose
at length grew unmistakable; unhappy that he was, he himself loved
Veranilda, and the vehemence of his passion overcame his loyalty in
friendship; never whilst he lived should Basil wed the Gothic
maiden. This revelation astonished Heliodora; she inquired when and
how Marcian had become enamoured, and heard in reply a detailed
narrative, part truth, part false, of the events at Surrentum, known
to her as yet only in outline and without any mention of Marcian's
part in them. Upon her surprise followed malicious joy. Was there no
means, she asked, of discovering Veranilda? And the other in a low
voice made answer that he knew where she was--knew but too well.
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