Not without trouble was this obtained, for Pelagius was at all times
busy, always beset by suitors of every degree, the Romans holding
him in high reverence, and making their appeals to him rather than
to the Pope, for whom few had a good word. When at last Marcian was
admitted to the deacon's presence, he found himself disconcerted by
the long, silent scrutiny of eyes deep read in the souls of men. No
word would reach his lips.
'I have been expecting you,' said the deacon at length, gravely, but
without severity. 'You have made no haste to come.'
'Most reverend,' replied Marcian, in a tone of the deepest reproach,
'I knew not certainly whether I had indeed made confession to you,
or if it was but a dream of fever.'
Pelagius smiled. He was standing by a table, and his hand lay upon
an open volume.
'You are of noble blood, lord Marcian,' he continued, 'and the
greatness of your ancestors is not unknown to you. Tell me by what
motive you have been induced to play the traitor against Rome. I
cannot think it was for the gain that perishes. Rather would I
suppose you misled by the opinion of Cassiodorus, whose politics
were as unsound as his theology.
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