His journey from Salernum had so wearied the ecclesiastic that he could but give a hand to be kissed by his hostess, and straightway retire into privacy; the repast that was ready for him had to be served beside his couch, and soon after night had fallen, Leander slumbered peacefully.

Meanwhile Basil and Decius and their friend from Rome had supped together, making what cheer they might under the circumstances; the Surrentine wine was a little acrid, falling short of its due age, but it sufficed to animate the talk.

Presently Decius withdrew, to study or to meditate through some hours of the night, for he slept ill; the others, going apart to a gallery lighted by the full moon, sat wrapped in thick, hooded cloaks, to converse awhile before they slept.

With their voices mingled the soft splash of a fountain.
Basil was telling of his journey to Cumae, and of the difficulty he had had in persuading Aurelia to visit her father.
'Does she live alone there ?' inquired Marcian.
There was a pause before the reply, and when Basil spoke his voice fell to a note of half-hesitating confidence.
'Alone?
yes,' he said, 'in the sense that no relative abode with her; but she had a companion--a lady--very young.' And here he again paused, as if in some embarrassment.
'A Roman ?' was Marcian's next question, carelessly thrown out for he had little interest in Aurelia, and was half occupied with other thoughts.
'No,' answered Basil, his voice subdued.

'A Goth; and, she says, of the royal blood, of the line of Theodoric.' His friend became attentive.