Basil tore the letter open.  It contained a lock of raven-black hair, tied with gold thread, and on the paper was written, in Greek, ’I am free.’  Again his cheek flushed; he crushed paper and hair together in his hand.

‘Let us never again speak of her,’ he exclaimed, moving away from the spot.  ’Before I left Rome, I told you that I would gladly see her no more, and you smiled dubiously.  Believe me now.  I abhor the thought of her.  If she ask you for my reply, repeat those words.’

‘Nay, dear my lord, in that I will beg to be excused,’ replied Marcian with his melancholy smile.

They were walking silently, side by side, when the servant Felix again presented himself before them.  Maximus, having heard of the arrival of Marcian from Rome, requested that he and Basil would grant him a moment of their leisure.  At once the young men turned to obey this summons.  On the way, Basil communicated to his friend in a whisper the event of the day.  A couple of hours having passed since Aurelia’s coming, the Senator had in some degree recovered from his agitation; he lay now in a room which opened upon the central court of the villa, a room adorned with rich marbles and with wall-paintings which were fading under the hand of time.  Deathly pale, scarce able to raise his head from the cushion of the couch, he none the less showed a countenance bright with joyous emotion.  His quivering voice strove to welcome the visitor cheerily.

’What news from the city, dear lord Marcian?  How are all our friends?  Do they begin to forget us?’

‘Not so, Illustrious,’ answered the young man, with head bent.  ’You are much desired in the Senate, where grave counsel is just now greatly in demand.’

‘The Senate, the Senate,’ murmured Maximus, as if reminded of something he had long forgotten.  ’They must needs lack my voice, I fear.  What do men say of the Gothic king?’

Marcian threw a glance at Basil, then towards the curtained portals of the room; lastly, his eyes turned upon the sick man, whom he regarded steadily.

‘They say much—­or little,’ fell from his lips.

‘I understand you,’ replied the Senator, with a friendly movement of the head.  ‘Here we may speak freely.  Does Totila draw near to Rome?’

’He is still in Tuscany, and rumours come from his army that he will pass into Samnium.  All the strongholds of Umbria are his; all the conquests of Belisarius from Ariminum to Spoletium.’

‘Where are the Roman captains?’

’Each in his city of the far north, holding the plunder he has got, and looking for the chance of more.  In Rome—­’

Marcian paused significantly, and the Senator took up his words.

‘In Rome rules Bessas.’

‘The Thracian,’ remarked Basil bitterly.

‘And in Ravenna,’ added the sick man, ’Alexandros—­the coin-clipper.’

The eyes of Basil and of Marcian encountered.  Between them came no shadow of distrust, the smile they exchanged told of loyal affection.