‘Your leisure at length permits you to visit me, dear lord Basil,’ she began coldly.

‘My leisure, indeed,’ he replied, ’has not been great since the day on which you left Surrentum.  But the more plainly we speak to each other the better.  I come now to ask whether you will release Veranilda to me, instead of waiting until you are compelled to release her to the Greeks.’

Before replying, Petronilla clapped her hands, then stood waiting for a moment, and said at length: 

’You can now speak without hearers.  I did not think you would be so imprudent in your words.  Go on:  say what you will.’

She seated herself, and looked at Basil with a contemptuous smile.  He, surprised by her behaviour, spoke on with angry carelessness.

’I neither cared before, nor do I now, if any of your servants overhear me.  No more credit would be given to anything they told of me than is given to what you yourself say I might begin by warning you of the dangers to which you are exposed, but no doubt you have calculated them, and think the price not too much to pay for your revenge.  Well, with your revenge I have no wish to interfere.  Hold Aurelia prisoner as long as you will, or as long as you can.  I speak only of Veranilda, against whom you can feel no enmity.  Will you release her to me?  It will only be anticipating by a few days her release to Bessas.  Veranilda in his hands, trust me, he will care little what becomes of Aurelia.’

‘I listen to you,’ replied Petronilla, ’because I am curious to learn into what extravagances your ignoble passion drives you.  I had been told, but could hardly believe, that you charged me with having seized these women.  Now I see that you really are foolish enough to think it.’  She threw her head back in a silent laugh of scorn.  ’Child—­for you are a child in wit though man in years—­do you not live at large in Rome, free to come and go as you will?’

‘What of that?’

’Am not I also a free woman?  Did I not yesterday visit the church of the blessed Petronilla, and might I not, if so I had willed, have escaped instead of returning to the city?’

‘What has this to do with the matter?’ demanded Basil.

‘Child! child!’ cried the other, as if with boundless contempt.  ’You ask that, knowing why this Veranilda is sought by the Greeks?  Were they truly still in search of her, and were you, were I, suspected of keeping her hidden, do you suppose we should be free, and not rather locked as close as any prison in Rome could hold us?’

The listener stood mute.  So vehement was Petronilla’s speech, and so convincing, thus delivered, seemed her argument, that Basil felt his heart sink.  Had she, then, outwitted him?  Was he really playing the part of a simpleton, at whom people laughed?  He remembered the seeming indifference of Bessas touching Veranilda at the second interview, natural enough if the maiden had already passed into the Greek’s hands.  Two days ago Marcian had told him that Petronilla must needs be aware of Veranilda’s importance, seeing that it was now common knowledge in Roman society.  But a thought flashed into his mind, and he lifted up his head again.