These six fellows declared themselves servants of the bishop of Praeneste, and said that they had just been convoying a Roman noble and a lady to a villa not far from Arpinum.

And the noble's name--they had it, said they, from his own servants at the villa, where they had passed a night--was Marcian.' Basil stared; he had gone pale again and haggard.
'What lady was with him ?' he asked, under his breath.
'That I cannot tell you.

The bishop's men knew nothing about her, and had not seen her face.

But'-- Venantius smiled--'they left her safely housed with our friend Marcian.

How comes this Syrian to say that his master is at Rome?
Does he lie?
Or did the horsemen lie?
Or are there, perchance, two Marcians ?' 'I must speak with him,' said Basil.