'I speak not of that perjured wretch,' said Basil. 'Come hither.'
Gaudiosus obeyed, and looked with wonder at the unconscious face.
'Who is this?' he asked.
'No matter who. Does she live?'
Basil had knelt, and taken one of the little hands in both his own,
staining it with the blood of Marcian.
'I can feel no throb of life,' he said, speaking coldly,
mechanically.
The priest bent, and put his cheek to her lips.
'She lives. This is but a swoon. Help me to bear her to the couch.'
But Basil took the slender body in his arms, and carried it like
that of a child. When he had laid it down, he looked at Gaudiosus
sternly.
'Have you authority in this house?'
'Some little, perhaps. I know not. What is your will?'
Utterly confounded, his eyes dropping moisture, his limbs shaken as
if with palsy, the priest babbled his reply.
'Use any power you have,' continued Basil, 'to prevent more
bloodshed. Outside the gates are men of mine. Bid the porter admit
them to the outer court. Then call thither two servants, and let
them bear away _that_--whither you will.
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