might be the hope of his friends
in Rome.

Again some days passed, and Marcian received one of those messages
which at times reached him from the Gothic king. Totila's bidding was
contained in a few words: Let Marcian seek speech with the deacon
Leander. Surprised, but having full confidence in the messenger,
Marcian presently wrote to the deacon in brief terms, saying that he
wished to converse with him regarding a certain heretic of whom he had
hopes. To this came prompt reply, which did not, however, invite
Marcian, as he had expected, to a meeting in private; but merely said
that, on the morrow, an hour after sunrise, Leander would be found in a
certain public place.

Leander was busied just now in a matter peculiarly congenial to him,
the destruction of an ancient building in order to enrich with its
columns and precious marbles a new Christian church. At the hour
appointed, Marcian found him in the temple of Minerva Chalcidica,
directing workmen as to what they should remove; before him lay certain
mouldings in green porphyry (the precious _lapis Lacedaemonius_), which
had been carefully broken from their places, and he was regarding them
with the eye of a lover. For the first few minutes of their
conversation, Marcian felt mistrust, as the deacon appeared to have no
intelligence of any secret purpose in this meeting; but presently,
still gossiping of stones, Leander led him out of the temple and walked
in the shadowy public place beside the Pantheon.

'That must be purified and consecrated,' he remarked, glancing from the
granite columns of Agrippa's porch to the bronze-tiled dome. 'Too long
it has been left to the demons.'

Marcian, preoccupied as he was, listened with awe. Since the ravage of
the Vandals, no mortal had passed those vast doors, behind which all
the gods of heathendom, known now for devils, lurked in retreat.

'I have urged it upon the Holy Father,' Leander added. 'But Vigilius is
all absorbed in the dogmatics of Byzantium. A frown of the Empress
Theodora is more to him than the glory of the Omnipotent and the weal
of Christendom.'

The look which accompanied these words was the first hint to Marcian
that he might speak in confidence. He inquired whether the Pope, as was
reported, would shortly sail for Constantinople.

'Before another week has passed,' was the reply, 'he will embark. He
would fain go forth'--a malicious smile was in the corner of Leander's
eye--'without leave-taking of