His first words to me, in the night when he stood beside the carriage, sounded so kind and true; he named himself the friend of Basil, said that Basil awaited me at the journey's end.

How could he speak so, if he indeed then thought you what he afterwards said?
Oh, were he alive, to stand face to face with me again!' 'It is not enough,' asked Basil harshly, 'that I tell you he lied ?' She did not on the instant reply, and he, possessed with unreasoning bitterness, talked wildly on.
'No! You believed him, and believe him still.

I can well fancy that he spoke honestly at first; but when he had looked into your face, when he had talked with you, something tempted him to villainy.

Go! Your tears and your lamentations betray you.

It is not of me that you think, but of him, him, only him! "Oh, were he alive!" Ay, keep your face bidden; you know too well it could not bear my eyes upon it.' Veranilda threw back the long veil, and stood looking at him.
'Eyes red with weeping,' he exclaimed, 'and for whom?
If you were true to me, would you not rejoice that I had slain my enemy?
You say you were joyful in the thought of seeing me again?
You see me--and with what countenance ?' 'I see not Basil,' she murmured, her hands upon her breast.
'You see a false lover, an ignoble traitor--the Basil shown you by Marcian.