Youth
shone in his ruddy countenance, and the vigour of perfect manhood
graced his frame. The locks that fell to his shoulders had a darker
hue than that common in the Gothic race, being a deep burnished
chestnut; but upon his lips and chin the hair gleamed like pale
gold. Across his forehead, from temple to temple, ran one deep
furrow, and this, together with a slight droop of the eyelids,
touched his visage with a cast of melancholy, whereby, perhaps, the
comely features became more royal.
Upon Basil, who paused at a respectful distance, he fixed a gaze of
meditative intentness, and gazed so long in silence that the Roman
could not but at length lift his eyes. Meeting the glance with grave
good nature, Totila spoke firmly and frankly.
'Lord Basil, they tell me that you crossed Italy to draw your sword
in my cause. Is this the truth?'
'It is the truth, O king.'
'How comes it then that you are laden with the death of one who had
long proved himself my faithful servant, one who, when you
encountered him, was bound on a mission of great moment?'
'He whom I slew,' answered Basil, 'was the man whom of all men I
most loved.
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