You cannot understand me; you have never loved!' 'May such knowledge be far from me!' said Marcian, with unwonted vehemence.

'Do you feel no shame in being so subdued to the flesh ?' 'Shame?
Shame in the thought that I love Veranilda ?' Marcian seemed to make an effort to control a passion that wrought in him; he was paler than of wont, and, instead of the familiar irony, a cold, if not cruel, austerity appeared in his eyes and on his lips.

He shunned Basil's astonished gaze.
'Let us not speak of this,' broke from him impatiently.

'You understand me as little as I you.

Forgive me, Basil--I have been talking idly--I scarce know what I said.