eks, and sat down by him
with a sigh of fatigue.

'What makes you so wan?' asked Basil, peering into his eyes.

'I sleep ill.'

'Why so? Is it pain or thought that keeps you wakeful?'

'Both, perhaps,' answered Marcian. He paused, reflected gloomily, and
went on in a subdued voice. 'Do you think often, Basil, of the eternal
fire?'

'Not often. Sometimes, of course.'

'Last night I had a dream, which assuredly was a temptation of the evil
one. My father stood before me, and said, "Fear not, Marcian, for there
is no Gehenna. It is but the vision of man's tormented conscience." And
I awoke with a great joy. But at once the truth came upon me; and until
dawn I prayed for strength to resist that perilous solace. This morning
I have talked long with a holy man, opening my heart to him, that he
might finally resolve my doubts. I said to him: "Slaves who have
committed a fault are punished that they may amend. To what purpose is
the punishment of the wicked after death, since there can be no
amendment?" and he replied: "My son, the wicked are punished in Gehenna
that the just may feel gratitude to the divine grace which has
preserved them from such a doom." "But," I objected, "ought not the
just to pray for their enemies in such evil case?" His answer was
prompt: "The time for prayer is past. The blessed concur in the
judgment of God!"'

Basil listened with bent head.

'Maximus,' he said presently, 'often doubted of eternal torment; and my
cousin Decius has more than once confessed to me that he believes it
not at all, being strengthened therein by his friend the philosopher
Simplicius. I, O Marcian, would fain think it a dream--yet there are
evil doings in this world which make me fear that it may be true.'

'You have seen Bessas again?'

'Yes. And I have seen Petronilla.'

His eyes on the listener, Basil recounted his conversation of this
morning, all save that part of it which related to Marcian. He could
detect no sign of guilty uneasiness in his friend's face, but saw that
Marcian grew very thoughtful.

'Is not this a shamelessness in falsehood which passes belief?' were
his last words.

'If indeed it be falsehood,' replied Marcian, meeting the other's eyes.
'I will confess that, this day or two, I have suspected Bessas of
knowing more than he pretends.'

'What?' Basil exclaimed. 'You think Veranilda is really in his power?'

Marcian answered with a return to the old irony.

'I would not venture to se