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deepest kiss

Source global Wall Street Journal     time 2022-12-17 15:02:02
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Again Vivian rolled on the cushions in mirth, until he caught Basil’s eye as it glanced at him with infinite scorn. Then he started to a sitting posture, fingered the handle of his dagger, and glared at Heliodora’s neighbour with all the insolent ferocity of which his face was capable. This youth was the son of a man whose name sounded ill to any Roman patriot,—of that Opilio, who, having advanced to high rank under King Theodoric, was guilty of frauds, fell from his eminence, and, in hope of regaining the king’s favour, forged evidence of treachery against Boethius. His attire followed the latest model from Byzantium: a loose, long-sleeved tunic, descending to the feet, its hue a dark yellow, and over that a long mantle of white silk, held together upon one shoulder by a great silver buckle in the form of a running horse; silken shoes, gold embroidered, with leather soles dyed purple; and on each wrist a bracelet. His black hair was short, and crisped into multitudinous curls with a narrow band of gold pressing it from the forehead to the ears.

‘Since when you have conversed, I take it, freely enough.’

Hand on dagger, and eyes glaring, the young noble had sprung to his feet. Marcian did not stir; his head was slightly bent, and a sad smile hovered about his lips.

‘Not so,’ replied Gaudiosus. ‘Of you she said no evil.’

By his apparel, he might have been mistaken for a noble.

‘If I knew that she has gone!’ cried Basil wretchedly. ‘If I knew!’


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