No peasant she; for her attire, though but little
adorned, told of refinement, and the grace of her figure, the simple
dignity of her attitude, would alone have marked her out among the
girls and women who were leaving the church, their eyes all turned
upon her and on the female attendant standing respectfully near.
Through the veil which covered her face and hung about her
shoulders, Marcian could dimly discern lips and eyebrows.
'Lord Marcian, may I speak with you?'
It was the voice of last night, and again it shook him with an
ecstasy which had more of dread than of joy.
'You here?' he replied, speaking very low. 'You have heard the
mass?'
'I am a Catholic. My religion is that of Basil.'
'God be thanked!' broke from Marcian. And his exclamation meant more
than it conveyed to the listener.
'May you tell me whither we are going?' was the next question from
the veiled lips.
The church was now empty, but in the doorway appeared faces
curiously peering. Marcian looking in that direction seemed for a
moment to find no reply; his lips were parted, and his breath came
rapidly; then he whispered:
'Not far from here there is a villa.
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