ard from those of
Basil's men who had been at the island villa, and, subsequently, from
the gossip of the camp. A story had got abroad that Veranilda was the
lost princess of the Amal line surviving in Italy, and it was commonly
thought among the Goths that their king intended to espouse her--the
marriage to be celebrated in Rome, when Rome once more acknowledged the
Gothic ruler. This did Felix report unwillingly, and only because his
master insisted upon knowing all.

'Very like it is true,' commented Basil, forcing a smile. 'You know, my
good Felix, that the Emperor would fain have had her adorn his court;
and I would rather see her Queen of Italy. But tell me now, last of
all, what talk there has been of me. Or has my name been happily
forgotten?'

'My dear lord's followers,' replied Felix, 'have not ceased to speak of
him among themselves, and to pray for his safety.'

'That I gladly believe. But I see there is more to tell. Out with it
all, good fellow. I have suffered worse things than any that can lie
before me.'

In sad obedience, the servant made known that he and his fellows had
been closely questioned, first by Venantius, later, some two or three
of them, by the king himself, regarding their master's course of life
since he went into Picenum. They had told the truth, happy in that they
could do so without fear and without shame.

'And how did the king bear himself to you?' asked Basil eagerly.

'With that nobleness which became him,' was the fervid answer. 'It is
said among the Goths that only a lie or an act of cowardice can move
Totila to wrath against one who is in his power; and after speaking
face to face with him, I well believe it. He questioned me in few
words, but not as a tyrant; and when I had replied as best I could, he
dismissed me with a smile.'

Basil's head drooped.

'Yes, Totila is noble,' fell softly from him. 'Let be what will be. He
is worthier than I.'

A knock sounded again at the door of the cell, and there entered
Marcus. His keen and kindly face betrayed perturbation of spirit, and
after looking from Basil to the new comer and then at Basil again, he
said in a nervous voice:

'The lord abbot bids you repair at once, my brother, to the prior's
room.'

'I go,' was the prompt reply.

As they left the room, Marcus caught Basil's arm and whispered:

'It is the King of the Goths who awaits you. But have courage, dear
brother; his face is mild. Despite his error, he has bo