The state of his own mind disposed him to see
peril everywhere. At another time he would not have noted so
curiously a sort of gleam in the Syrian's eye, a something on the
fellow's cunning, sensual lips, which might mean anything or
nothing. Did Sagaris divine who the veiled lady was? From the
bishop's man he could not have learned it, they themselves, as the
bishop had assured Marcian, being totally ignorant in the matter. If
he guessed the truth, as was likely enough after all the talk he had
heard concerning Veranilda, was it a danger? Had Sagaris any motive
for treachery?
'Listen,' continued Marcian, in a tone such as he had never before
used with his servant, a tone rather of entreaty than of command.
'Upon the safe and swift delivery of that letter more depends than
you can imagine. You will not lack your reward. But not a word to
any save the king. Should any one else question you, you will say
that you bear only a verbal message, and that you come direct from
Rome.'
'My lord shall be obeyed,' answered the slave, 'though I die under
torture.'
'Of that,' said Marcian, with a forced laugh, 'you need have no
fear.
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