A smile, which could not mask its cunning, came on to his lips, and all of a sudden he exchanged his truculence for amiability.
'Lord Venantius,' he said, laying an open palm on his own breast, and then motioning with it towards the Roman, 'you and I, two men of valour, can understand each other in few words.

I am no talker'-- his narrow eyes glanced at Marcian--'nor are you.

Tell me, if you can, what has become of the lady Aurelia and of the Gothic maiden who attended upon her.' 'Lord Chorsoman,' replied Venantius, 'I thought it was you who could have answered that question.

The ladies Aurelia and Veranilda have this morning disappeared, and we judged it likely that they had been enticed from the villa to be captured and borne to Cumae.' 'Who should have done that ?' 'Emissaries of your own, we supposed.' The Hun reflected.
'This man of words'-- he nodded sideways at Marcian--'spoke of a woman's malice.

Explain to me.' Venantius told what he knew of Petronilla's enmity, and the listener had no difficulty in coming to the conclusion which to Basil had been evident from the first.