Amal blood; more than that Aurelia seemed unwilling to reveal.

'Did you not learn her name?' asked the listener.

'Veranilda.'

Marcian echoed the melodious syllables, but they told him nothing.

'And did you make no inquiry of those with whom you spoke?'

'I conversed as little as might be with strangers, and purposely
held apart from our acquaintances in the town; this was my uncle's
express command.'

'You had no second sight of her?'

'Indeed I had; and talked with her moreover. Marcian, how can I
describe her to you? The words which suffice for common beauty sound
meaningless when I would use them to depict Veranilda. Shall I tell
you that she has hair of the purest gold, eyes brighter than the sky
at noon, lips like the flower of the pomegranate, a cheek so fair,
so soft--nay, you may well laugh at these idle phrases--'

'Not your phrases,' said Marcian, 'but your voice as it utters them
sets me smiling. Talk on. The chaste goddess who beams above us
inspire you with worthy terms!'

'There you speak to the point,' pursued Basil ardently. 'For
Veranilda is chaste as she is beautiful. Blessed saints! how my
heart shrank in abhorrence when I saw that letter this morning; and