'I must leave you. Join us
speedily yonder.'
He pointed towards Rome. On Basil's lips quivered a word, a
question, but before it could be uttered the soldier had stridden
away, his casque gleaming in the sun, and his sword clanking beside
him.
Again with mind confused, Basil went to his cell, and sat there head
on hand, trying to recover the mood, the thoughts, with which he had
risen this morning. But everything was changed. He could no longer
think of the past; the future called to him, and its voice was like
that of the Gothic trumpet, stirring his blood, urging him to
activity. At midday some one knocked, and there entered Deodatus.
'Where is Felix?' was Basil's first question.
Felix was gone, but only to the town at the foot of the mountain,
where he and two of his fellows would abide until their master left
the monastery. With this message Deodatus had been charged by
Venantius. He added that Felix had been dismissed, at the abbot's
order, during Basil's interview with the king.
'I understand,' said Basil in himself; and during the rest of the
day he strove with all the force of his will to recover calm and
pious thoughts.
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