And it may be'-- her look changed of a sudden--'that I am too hasty in embracing sorrow.

How can I believe that Basil has done this?
Are you not misled by some false suspicion?
Has not some enemy slandered him to you?
What can you say to make me credit a thing so evil ?' 'Alas! It were but too easy for me to lengthen a tale which all but choked me in the telling; I could name others who know, but to you they would be only names.

That of Heliodora, had you lived in Rome, were more than enough.' 'You say he loved her before ?' 'He did, dear lady, and when her husband was yet living.

Now that he is dead--' 'Have you yet told me all ?' asked Veranilda, gazing fixedly at him.
'Has he married her ?' 'Not yet--I think.' Again she bowed her head.

For a moment her tears fell silently, then she looked up once more fighting against her anguish.
'It cannot be true that he would have given me to the Greeks; that he may have forgotten me, that he may have turned to another love, I can perhaps believe--for what am I that Basil should love me?
But to scheme my injury, to deliver me to our enemies--Oh, you are deceived, you are deceived!' Marcian was silent, with eyes cast down.