But, hark you!' He hesitated, again searching the man's
countenance. 'You might chance to meet some friend of mine who would
inquire after me. No matter who it be--were it even the lord Basil--you
will answer in the same words, saying that I am still in Rome. You
understand me? Were it even lord Basil who asked?'
'It shall be as my lord commands,' replied the slave, his face set
in unctuous solemnity.
'Go, then. Lose not a moment.'
Marcian watched him ride away in the blaze of the cloudless sun. The
man's head was sheltered with a broad-brimmed hat of the lightest
felt, and his horse's with a cluster of vine-leaves. He rode away at
a quick trot, the while dust rising in a cloud behind him.
And Marcian lived through the day he knew not how. It was a day of
burning sunshine, of heat scarce tolerable even in places the most
sheltered. Clad only in a loose tunic, bare-armed, bare-footed, he
lay or sauntered wherever shade was dense, as far as possible from
the part of the villa consecrated to his guest. Hour after hour
crawled by, an eternity of distressful idleness.
Pages:
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395