If ever I vanish, Basil--' He ceased with a significant look.
'Why does Totila delay ?' exclaimed Basil, with a passionate gesture.
'He delays not.

It is wisdom to conquer Campania before coming hither.
Another month will see him before Neapolis.' 'Could I but find Veranilda, make her my own, and put her in safety, I would go straight to the king's camp, and serve him as best I might.' Marcian looked steadily at the speaker, smiling strangely.
'Why do you look at me so ?' cried Basil.

'You doubt me?
You distrust my courage ?' 'Not for a moment.

But why should this depend upon the finding of Veranilda, my best Basil?
Having found her, having made her your own, will it be easier than now to take your chance of death or of captivity?
When was a Roman wont to let his country's good wait upon his amorous desire ?' They were on the Sacred Way, between the Basilica of Constantine and the Atrium of Vesta.

Struck to the heart by his friend's words, words such as Marcian had never yet addressed to him, Basil stood mute and let his eyes wander: he gazed at the Forum, at the temples beyond it, at the Capitol with its desecrated sanctuary of Jupiter towering above.
Here, where the citizens once thronged about their business and their pleasure, only a few idlers were in view, a few peasants with carts, and a drove of bullocks just come in from the country.
'You would have me forget her ?' he said at length, in a voice distressfully subdued.
'I spoke only as I thought.' 'And your thought condemned me--despised me, Marcian ?' 'Not so.