Marcian
came forth on horseback. He alighted to speak with me, and presently
asked if I would go to see another fall of the river, across the
island. I consented. As we went, he dismissed my servant, and I did not
know what he had done (thinking she still followed), until, when we
were in a wood at the water's edge, I could no longer see the woman,
and Marcian told me he had bidden her go to fetch seats for us. Then he
began to speak, and what he said, how shall I tell you?'

There was another brief silence. Basil did not stir; his eyes were bent
sternly upon the veiled visage.

'Was it evil in his heart that shaped such words? Or had he been
deceived by some other? He said that Basil had forgotten me; that Basil
loved, and would soon wed, a lady in Rome. More than that, he said that
Basil was plotting to get me into his power, his purpose being to
deliver me to the Greeks, who would take me to Constantinople. But
Marcian, so he declared, had rescued me in time, and I was to be
guarded by the King of the Goths.'

The listener moved, raising his arm and letting it fall again. But he
breathed no word.

'This did he tell me,' she added. 'I went back to the villa to my
chamber. I sat thinking, I know not how long; I know not how long.
Then, unable to remain any longer alone, driven by my dreadful doubt, I
came forth to seek Marcian. I descended the stairs to the atrium. You
saw me--alas! alas!'

Basil drew nearer to her.

'He had spoken no word of love?'

'No word. I had no fear of _that_.'

'Why, then, did he frame these lies, these hellish lies?'

'Alas!' cried Veranilda, clasping her hands above her head. 'Did he
still live, the truth might be discovered. His first words to me, in
the night when he stood beside the carriage, sounded so kind and true;
he named himself the friend of Basil, said that Basil awaited me at the
journey's end. How could he speak so, if he indeed then thought you
what he afterwards said? Oh, were he alive, to stand face to face with
me again!'

'It is not enough,' asked Basil harshly, 'that I tell you he lied?'

She did not on the instant reply, and he, possessed with unreasoning
bitterness, talked wildly on.

'No! You believed him, and believe him still. I can well fancy that he
spoke honestly at first; but when he had looked into your face, when he
had talked with you, something tempted him to villainy. Go! Your tears
and your lamentations betray you. It is not of me that you th