It was the man's business to obey; he let
fall a few words, however, concerning the dangers of the track; it
was well known that bands of marauders frequented this country,
moving onward before the slow advance of the Gothic troops. Marcian
reflected, but none the less held to his scheme. The beasts were
urged along an upward way, which, just about the setting of the
moon, brought them to a poor village with a little church. Marcian
set himself to discover the priest, and, when this good man was
roused from slumber, spoke in his ear a word which had great effect.
With little delay stabling was found, and a place of repose for
Marcian's followers; he himself would rest under the priest's roof,
whither he conducted Veranilda and a woman servant who sat with her
in the carriage. The face which was so troubling his imagination he
did not yet see, for Veranilda kept the hood close about her as she
passed by candle light up steps to the comfortless and dirty little
chamber which was the best she could have.
'Rest in peace,' whispered Marcian as the door closed. 'I guard
you.
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