A draught given by the physician sent
him to sleep, and from the second hour after sunset until nearly
noon of to-day he had lain unconscious.
What he now learnt from Venantius swept into oblivion all that he
had undergone. If it were true that Marcian had travelled in this
direction with a lady under his guard, Basil could not doubt for a
moment who that lady was. The jest of Venantius did not touch him,
for Venantius spoke, it was evident, without a thought of Veranilda,
perhaps had forgotten her existence; not the faintest tremor of
uneasiness stirred in Basil's mind when he imagined Veranilda at his
friend's house; Marcian had discovered her, had rescued her, had
brought her thither to rest in safety till her lover could join
them--brave Marcian, truest of friends! For this had he sent the
summons southward, perhaps not daring to speak more plainly in a
letter, perhaps not being yet quite sure of success. This had he so
often promised--O gallant Marcian!
Quivering with eagerness, he stood at the door of his chamber.
Footsteps sounded; there appeared a slave of the house, and behind
him that dark, handsome visage which he was expecting.
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