’It is much that you suffer me to come into your presence, for of all men, O Veranilda, I am least worthy to do so.’

‘How shall I answer you?’ she replied, with a sad, simple dignity.  ’I know not of what unworthiness you accuse yourself.  That you are most unhappy, I know too well.’

She dared not raise her eyes to him; but in the moment of his appearance before her, it had gladdened her to see him attired as when she first knew him.  Had he worn the soldierly garb in which he presented himself at Marcian’s villa, the revival of a dread memory would have pierced her heart.  Even as in outward man he was the Basil she had loved, so did his voice recall that brighter day.

‘Unhappy most of all,’ he continued, ’in what I least dare speak of.  I have no ground to plead for pardon.  What I did, and still more what I uttered, judge it at the worst.  I should but add to my baseness if I urged excuses.’

‘Let us not remember that, I entreat you,’ said Veranilda.  ’But tell me, if you will, what has befallen you since?’

‘You know nothing of me since then?’

‘Nothing.’

’And I nothing of you, save that you were with the Gothic army, and honourably entertained.  The king himself spoke to me of you, when, after long sickness, I came to his camp.  He asked if it was my wish to see you; but I could not yet dare to stand before your face, and so I answered him.  “It is well,” said Totila.  “Prove yourself in some service to the Goths and to your country, then I will speak with you again.”  And straightway he charged me with a duty which I the more gladly undertook because it had some taste of danger.  He bade me enter Rome, and spread through the city a proclamation to the Roman people—­’

‘It was you who did that?’ interrupted the listener.  ’We heard of its being done, but not by what hand.’

’With a servant whom I can trust, disguised, he and I, as peasants bringing food to market, I entered Rome, and remained for two days within the gates; then returned to Totila.  He next sent me to learn the strength of the Greek garrisons in Spoletium and Assisium, and how those cities were provisioned; this task also, by good hap, I discharged so as to win some praise.  Then the king again spoke to me of you.  And as, before, I had not dared to approach you, so now I did not dare to wait longer before making known to you my shame and my repentance.’

‘Of what sickness did you speak just now?’ asked Veranilda, after a silence.

He narrated to her his sojourn at the monastery, told of the penance he had done, of the absolution granted him by Benedict; whereupon a light came into Veranilda’s eyes.

‘There lives,’ she exclaimed, ‘no holier man!’

‘None holier lived,’ was Basil’s grave answer.  ’Returning from Assisium, I met a wandering anchorite, who told me of Benedict’s death.’

‘Alas!’

‘But is he reverenced by those of your creed?’ asked Basil in surprise.