Bessas does not seize the insolent Leander, and force the truth
from him? Were I the commander, would I be baffled for an hour by that
sleek deacon?'

'Were you commander, O best Basil,' replied Marcian, smiling, 'you
would see things in another light. Bessas does not lay hands upon the
deacon because it is much more to his profit to have the clergy of Rome
for his friends than for his enemies. Whether Veranilda be discovered
or not, he cares little; I began to suspect that when I saw that you
came off so easily from your dealings with him. 'Tis a long road to
Constantinople, and the Thracian well knows that he may perchance never
travel it again. His one care is to heap up treasure for to-day; the
morrow may look after itself. But let us return to the point from which
we started. Do you think in earnest of voyaging to the Bosporus?'

'I should only choose a hazard so desperate were it the sole chance
that remained of recovering Veranilda.'

'Wait, then, yet awhile. But take my counsel, and do not wait in Rome.'

To this advice Basil gave willing ear. Since he had heard from Pelagius
that he was free to quit the city, he was all but resolved to be gone.
One thought alone detained him; he still imagined that Heliodora might
have means such as she professed of aiding him in his search, and that,
no matter how, he might subdue her will to his own. She, of course,
aimed only at enslaving him, and he knew her capable of any wickedness
in the pursuit of her ends; for this very reason was he tempted into
the conflict with her, a conflict in which his passions would have no
small part, and whether for or against him could not be foreseen. Once
more he would visit Heliodora; if fruitlessly, then for the last time.

But of this decision he did not speak to Marcian.

CHAPTER XV

YOUNG ROME

At the hour named by Heliodora, Basil set forth alone and rode by
unfrequented ways towards the street on the Quirinal named Alta Semita.
A sense of shame forbade him to make known even to his slaves whither
he was going. He kept repeating to himself that it was for the last
time; and perhaps a nobler motive would have withheld him altogether,
had not the story told by Marcian of his 'rival's' insolent menace
rankled in him and urged him to show that he felt no fear. Chance led
him past the little church of St. Agatha, which belonged to the Arians;
it helped him to fix his thoughts upon Veranilda, and silently he swore
that no