Venantius visited the sick
man, and found him risen, but plainly in poor case for travel.
'Why, you will never mount your horse,' he opined, after touching
Basil's hand, and finding it on fire. 'This is what comes of a
queasy conscience. Take heart, man! Are you the first that stuck a
false friend between the ribs, or the first to have your love kissed
against her will? That it _was_ against her will, I take upon myself
to swear. You are too fretful, my good lord. Come, now! What are we
to do with you?'
'I can ride on,' answered Basil. 'Pay no heed to me, and leave me in
peace, I pray you.'
He was helped to horseback, and the cavalcade went forth again along
the Latin Way. This morning, no beam of sunrise shone above the
mountains; the heavens were sullen, and a hot wind blew from the
south. Even Venantius, though he hummed a song to himself, felt the
sombre influence of the air, and kept glancing uneasily backwards at
the death-pale man, who rode with head upon his breast. Scarcely had
they ridden for an hour at foot-pace, when a shout caught the
captain's ear; he turned, just in time to see Basil dropping to the
ground.
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