They looked into each other's eyes, and Heliodora, deep read in the looks of men, knew that her desire was frustrate.
'Go then,' she said. 'Go quickly, lest the boy pursue you His second aim might be surer.'
Basil deigned no reply. He went into the vestibule, waited there until his horse was brought up, and rode away.
His head bent, scarce noting the way he took, he found himself at the entrance to Trajan's Forum. Here he checked his horse, and seemed to be contemplating that scene which for centuries had excited the wonder and the awe of men. But when he rode on over the grass-grown pavement, he was as little observant of the arches, statues, galleries, and of that great column soaring between Basilica and Temple, as of the people who moved hither and thither, sparse, diminutive. Still brooding, he came into the Via Lata and to the house of Marcian.
Marcian, said the porter, was closeted with certain visitors.
'Make known to him,' said Basil, 'that I would speak but a word in private.'
They met in the atrium. Marcian smiled oddly.
'If you come to tell me what you have heard this afternoon,' he whispered, 'spare your breath. I know it already.'
'How can that be?'
'I have seen an angry woman. Angry women are always either very mischievous or very useful. In this case I hope to make use of her. But I can tell you nothing yet, and I would that you were far from Rome. Could I but persuade you to be gone, dear Basil.'