Does she live ?' Basil had knelt, and taken one of the little hands in both his own, staining it with the blood of Marcian.
'I can feel no throb of life,' he said, speaking coldly, mechanically.
The priest bent, and put his cheek to her lips.
'She lives.

This is but a swoon.

Help me to bear her to the couch.' But Basil took the slender body in his arms, and carried it like that of a child.

When he had laid it down, he looked at Gaudiosus sternly.
'Have you authority in this house ?' 'Some little, perhaps.

I know not.