Basil had moved further
away, and she did not seem to be aware of his presence.
'How long is it,' he asked, with his eyes upon Gaudiosus, 'since
Marcian came from Rome?'
'This is the fourth day. So I have been told. I myself saw him for
the first time not an hour--nay, not half an hour ago.'
'You knew not that he brought _her_ with him?'
Basil, without looking in that direction, signalled with his head
towards Veranilda.
'I had heard of some companion unnamed.'
'He had not spoken of her to you?'
'Not a word.'
On the tesselated floor where Marcian had fallen was a pool of
blood. Basil only now perceived it, and all at once a violent
shudder went over him.
'Man of God!' he exclaimed in a voice of sudden passion, terribly
resonant after the dull, hard accents of his questioning. 'You look
upon me with abhorrence, and, perhaps, with fear. Hearken to my
vindication. He whom I have slain was the man I held in dearest
friendship. I believed him true to the heart's core. Yesterday--
was it but yesterday?--O blessed Christ!--it seems to me so long
ago--I learned that his heart was foul with treachery.
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