rne himself
reverently to our holy father.'

'Know you what has passed between them?' asked Basil, also in a whisper.

'That none may know. But when Totila came forth from the tower, he had
the face of one who has heard strange things. Who can say what the
Almighty purposes by the power of his servant Benedict? Not unguided,
surely, did the feet of the misbelieving warrior turn to climb this
mount.'

Leaving the poet monk to nurse his hopes, Basil betook himself with
rapid steps to the prior's room. At the door stood three armed men; two
had the long flaxen hair which proclaimed them Goths, the third was
Venantius. A look of friendly recognition was all that passed between
Basil and his countryman, who straightway admitted him to the room,
announced his name, and retired. Alone--his attitude that of one who
muses--sat the Gothic King. He was bareheaded and wore neither armour
nor weapon; his apparel a purple tunic, with a loose, gold-broidered
belt, and a white mantle purple seamed. Youth shone in his ruddy
countenance, and the vigour of perfect manhood graced his frame. The
locks that fell to his shoulders had a darker hue than that common in
the Gothic race, being a deep burnished chestnut; but upon his lips and
chin the hair gleamed like pale gold. Across his forehead, from temple
to temple, ran one deep furrow, and this, together with a slight droop
of the eyelids, touched his visage with a cast of melancholy, whereby,
perhaps, the comely features became more royal.

Upon Basil, who paused at a respectful distance, he fixed a gaze of
meditative intentness, and gazed so long in silence that the Roman
could not but at length lift his eyes. Meeting the glance with grave
good nature, Totila spoke firmly and frankly.

'Lord Basil, they tell me that you crossed Italy to draw your sword in
my cause. Is this the truth?'

'It is the truth, O king.'

'How comes it then that you are laden with the death of one who had
long proved himself my faithful servant, one who, when you encountered
him, was bound on a mission of great moment?'

'He whom I slew,' answered Basil, 'was the man whom of all men I most
loved. I thought him false to me, and struck in a moment of madness.'

'Then you have since learnt that you were deceived?'

Basil paused a moment.

'Gracious lord, that I accused him falsely, I no longer doubt, having
had time to reflect upon many things, and to repent of my evil haste.
But I am still ignorant of