could he suppose, asked Marcian, that Heliodora would meekly endure
his disdain, and that the life of Veranilda would be safe in such a
rival's proximity? Hereat, Basil gnashed his teeth and handled his
dagger. Why return to Rome at all? he cried impatiently. He had no
mind to go through the torments of a long siege such as again
threatened. Why should he not live on in Campania--

'And tend your sheep or your goats?' interrupted Marcian, with his
familiar note of sad irony. 'And pipe _sub tegmine fagi_ to your
blue-eyed Amaryllis? Why not, indeed? But what if; on learning the
death of Maximus, the Thracian who rules yonder see fit to command
your instant return, and to exact from you an account of what you
have inherited? Bessas loses no time--suspecting--perhaps--
that his tenure of a fruitful office may not be long.'

'And if the suspicion be just?' said Basil, gazing hard at his
friend.

'Well, if it be?' said the other, returning the look.

'Should we not do well to hold far from Rome, looking to King
Totila, whom men praise, as a deliverer of our land from hateful
tyranny?'

Marcian laid a hand on his friend's shoulder.

'O, brave Basil!' he murmured, with a smile. 'O, nobly confident in
those you love! Never did man so merit love in return.--Do as you
will. In a few days I shall again visit you at Surrentum, and
perchance bring news that may give us matter for talk.'