'Of what?'
'Of the day soon to come when Totila will be king in Rome.'
Heliodora's countenance relaxed in a smile.
'Yet you had nothing more to say to me,' she murmured in a significant tone.
'There were much to say, Heliodora, to one whom I knew my friend. I had dared to think you so.'
'What proof of friendship does your Amiability ask?' inquired the lady with a half-mocking, half-earnest look.
As if murmuring to himself, Marcian uttered the name 'Veranilda.'
'They say she is far on the way to Constantinople,' said Heliodora. 'If so, and if Bessas sent her, his craft is greater than I thought. For I have spoken with him, and'—she smiled—'he seems sincere when he denied all knowledge of the maiden.'
Marcian still gazed at the distance. Again he spoke as if unconsciously murmuring his thoughts:
'Totila advances. In Campania but a few towns still await his conquest. The Appian Way is open. Ere summer be past he will stand at the gates of Rome.'