English fiction -- 19th century; Historical fiction; Italy -- History -- 476-774 -- Fiction
Basil had heard of no such purpose. His kinsman, under the will of
Maximus, enjoyed a share in the annual revenue of this Surrentine
estate; moreover, he became the possessor of many books, which lay in
the Anician mansion of Rome, and it was his impatience, thought
Aurelia, to lay hands upon so precious a legacy, which might at any
time be put in danger by the events of the war, that prompted him to
set forth.
'Might he not perform the duty you have undertaken?' she added in a
lower voice, as she met Basil's look.
Veranilda did not speak, but an anxious hope dawned in her face. And
Basil saw it.
'Have you spoken of it, cousin?' he asked.
'The thought has but just come to me.'
'Decius is not in good health. Thus late in the year, to travel by
sea--Yet the weather may be fair, the sea still; and then it would be
easier for him than the journey by land.'
Basil spoke in a halting tone. He could not without a certain shame
think of revoking his promise to Petronilla, a very distinct promise,
in which natural obligation had part. Yet the thought of the journey,
of an absence from Veranilda, not without peril of many kinds, grew
terrible to him. He looked at Veranilda again, and smiled encouragement.
The lady Petronilla had been wont to dine and sup in dignified
publicity, seated on the _sigma_, in the room which had seen so many
festivals, together with her male relatives and any guest who might be
at the villa; in her presence, no man permitted himself the recumbent
attitude, which indeed had been unusual save among the effeminate. But
Aurelia and her companion took their meals apart. This evening, Basil
and Decius supped almost in silence, each busy with his reflections.
They lingered over the wine, their attendants having left them, until
Decius, as if rousing himself from a dream, asked how long it was
likely to be before the ship could sail. Basil answered that the leaden
coffin would be ready within a few days (it was being made at Neapolis,
out of water-pipes which had served a villa in ruins), and after that
there would only be delay through wind and weather.
'Are you greatly bent on going to Rome just now?' was the student's
next inquiry, a twinkle in his eyes as he spoke.
'By Bacchus!' answered the other, handling his goblet. 'If I saw my way
to avoid it!'
'I guessed as much. The suspicion came to me at a certain moment this
morning--a mere grain, which ever since has been growing _tanquam
favus_. I am not wont to consider myself as of much use, but is it not
just possible that, in this case, your humble kinsman might serve you?'
'My good, my excellent, my very dear Decius!' broke from the listener.
'But would it not be with risk to your health?'
'I would beg permission not to weigh anchor in a tempest, that's all.
The sea in its gentler moods I have never feared, and _alcyoneum
medicamen_, you know, in other words the sea-foam, has always been
recommended for freckles.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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