He was wondering anxiously how his letter had affected Veranilda, and whether, when she heard of it, Aurelia would be angered.
'Where is your friend Marcian ?' were her next words.
Basil replied that he, too, was sojourning at Neapolis; and, when Aurelia inquired what business held him there, her cousin answered truly that he did not know.
'Do you trust him ?' asked the lady, after a thoughtful pause.
'Marcian?
As I trust myself!' One of the boatmen coming within earshot, their conversation ceased.
The hour before noon saw them drawing near to land.

They left on the right the little island of Nesis, and drew towards Puteoli.

On the left lay Baiae, all but forsaken, its ancient temples and villas stretching along the shore from the Lucrine lake to the harbour shadowed by Cape Misenum; desolate magnificence, marble overgrown with ivy, gardens where the rose grew wild, and terraces crumbling into the sea.

Basil and Aurelia looked upon these things with an eye made careless by familiarity; all their lives ruin had lain about them, deserted sanctuaries of a bygone creed, unpeopled homes of a vanished greatness.
As the boat advanced into the bay, it lost the wind, and rowing again became needful.

Thus they entered the harbour of Puteoli, where the travellers disembarked.
Hard by the port was a tavern, which, owing to its position midway between Neapolis and Cumae, still retained something of its character as a _mansio_ of the posting service; but the vehicles and quadrupeds of which it boasted were no longer held in strict reserve for state officials and persons privileged.