‘What you ask,’ she began, after a short silence, ’is not easy.  If I make inquiries of such of the clergy as I know, I must needs tell them why I am doing so; and would they, in that case, think it well to answer me?’

‘You know the deacon Leander,’ urged Basil.  ’Can you not plead for me with him, O Silvia?’

’Plead for you?  Remember that it is impossible for me to assume that the holy deacon knows anything of this matter.  And, were that difficulty removed, dare I plead for your union with one who is not of our faith—­one, moreover, whom you cannot wed without putting yourself in grave peril?’

‘Listen, gentle cousin!’ exclaimed Basil eagerly.  ’It may be that Veranilda has already renounced the heresy of Anus.  If not, she would assuredly do so at my persuasion.  So, that objection you may dismiss.  As for the danger to which our marriage might expose us, our love would dare that—­ay, and things much worse.’

‘You speak so confidently of the Gothic maiden?’ said Silvia, with a look half-timid, half-amused.  ’Was there, then, a veritable plighting of troth between you?’

’There was, dear cousin.  From you I will conceal nothing, for you are good, you are compassionate.’

And whilst he poured forth the story of his love, not without tears, Silvia gave sympathetic attention.  The lady Petronilla had never been one of her intimates, nor was the deacon Leander among those ecclesiastics whom she most reverenced.  When Basil had told all, her reply was ready.  All she could do would be to endeavour to learn whether Veranilda remained in the charge of Petronilla’s confederate, or had been given up to the Greeks.  From conversation she had heard, Silvia inclined to this belief, that Bessas and his subordinates were still vainly seeking.

’I can make you no promise, good Basil; but I will take counsel with my husband (whom you can trust as you trust me), and see if indeed anything may be learnt.’

The lover kissed her hands in ardent gratitude.  Whilst they were still talking confidentially, another visitor was announced, the deacon Pelagius.  Basil begged permission to withdraw before the cleric entered; he was in no mood for conversation with deacons; and Silvia pointed smilingly to the door by which he could retreat.

The hour was still early.  Basil passed a day of hopefulness, and his mood became exultant when, about sunset, a letter was brought to him from Silvia.

‘To-morrow morning, at the third hour,’ she wrote, ’certain of our kinsfolk and friends will assemble in this house to hear the reverend man Arator read his poem on the Acts of the Holy Apostles.  This is an honour done to us, for only two or three persons have as yet heard portions of the poem, which will soon be read publicly in the church of the Holy Petrus ad Vincula.  Let me welcome your Amiability among my guests.  After the reading, I shall beg you to be acquainted with one who may perchance serve you.’