_ NEXT morning he woke up weak, but with a cool head and free of
fever. It seemed to him that a whispered conversation had roused
him; but when he opened his eyes, Lygia was not there. Ursus,
stooping before the chimney, was raking apart the gray ashes, and
seeking live coals beneath them. When he found some, he began to
blow, not with his mouth, but as it were with the bellows of a
blacksmith. Vinicius, remembering how that man had crushed
Croton the day before, examined with attention befitting a lover of
the arena his gigantic back, which resembled the back of a
Cyclops, and his limbs strong as columns.
"Thanks to Mercury that my neck was not broken by him," thought
Vinicius. "By Pollux! if the other Lygians are like this one, the
Danubian legions will have heavy work some time!"
But aloud he said, "Hei, slave!"
Ursus drew his head out of the chimney, and, smiling in a manner
almost friendly, said, -- "God give thee a good day, lord, and good
health; but I am a free man, not a slave."
On Vinicius. who wished to question Ursus touching Lygia's
birthplace, these words produced a certain pleasant impression; for
discourse with a free though a common man was less disagreeable
to his Roman and patrician pride, than with a slave, in whom
neither law nor custom recognized human nature.
"Then thou dost not belong to Aulus?" asked he.
"No, lord, I serve Callina, as I served her mother, of my own will."
Here he hid his head again in the chimney, to blow the coals, on
which he had placed some wood. When he had finished, he took it
out and said, -- "With us there are no slaves."
"Where is Lygia?" inquired Vinicius.
"She has gone out, and I am to cook food for thee. She watched
over thee the whole night."
"Why didst thou not relieve her?"
"Because she wished to watch, and it is for me to obey." Here his
eyes grew gloomy, and after a while he added:
"If I had disobeyed her, thou wouldst not be living."
"Art thou sorry for not having killed me?"
"No, lord. Christ has not commanded us to kill."
"But Atacinus and Croton?"
"I could not do otherwise," muttered Ursus. And he looked with
regret on his hands, which had remained pagan evidently, though
his soul had accepted the cross. Then be put a pot on the crane,
and fixed his thoughtful eyes on the fire.
"That was thy fault, lord," said he at last. "Why didst thou raise thy
hand against her, a king's daughter?"
Pride boiled up, at the first moment, in Vinicius, because a
common man and a barbarian had not merely dared to speak to
him thus familiarly, but to blame him in addition. To those
uncommon and improbable things which had met him since
yesterday, was added another. But being weak and without his
slaves, he restrained himself, especially since a wish to learn some
details of Lygia's life gained the upper hand in him.
When he had calmed himself, therefore, he inquired about the war
of the Lygians against Vannius and the Suevi. Ursus was glad to
converse, but could not add much that was new to what in his time
Aulus Plautius had told. Ursus had not been in battle, for he had
attended the hostages to the camp of Atelius Hister. He knew only
that the Lygians had beaten the Suevi and the Yazygi, but that their
leader and king had fallen from the arrows of the Yazygi.
Immediately after they received news that the Semnones had set
fire to forests on their boundaries, they returned in haste to avenge
the wrong, and the hostages remained with Atelius, who ordered at
first to give them kingly honors. Afterward Lygia's mother died.
The Roman commander knew not what to do with the child. Ursus
wished to return with her to their own country, but the road was
unsafe because of wild beasts and wild tribes. When news came
that an embassy of Lygians had visited Pomponius, offering him
aid against the Marcomani, Hister sent him with Lygia to
Pomponius. When they came to him they learned, however, that no
ambassadors had been there, and in that way they remained in the
camp; whence Pomponius took them to Rome, and at the
conclusion of his triumph he gave the king's daughter to Pomponia
Graecina.
Though only certain small details of this narrative had been
unknown to Vinicius, he listened with pleasure, for his enormous
pride of family was pleased that an eye-witness had confirmed
Lygia's royal descent. As a king's daughter she might occupy a
position at Caesar's court equal to the daughters of the very first
families, all the more since the nation whose ruler her father had
been, had not warred with Rome so far, and, though barbarian, it
might become terrible; for, according to Atelius Hister himself, it
possessed an immense force of warriors. Ursus, moreover,
confirmed this completely.
"We live in the woods," said he, in answer to Vinicius, "but we
have so much land that no man knows where the end is, and there
are many people on it. There are also wooden towns in the forest,
in which there is great plenty; for what the Semnones, the
Marcomani, the Vandals, and the Quadi plunder through the
world, we take from them. They dare not come to us; but when the
wind blows from their side, they burn our forests. We fear neither
them nor the Roman Caesar."
"The gods gave Rome dominion over the earth," said Vinicius
severely.
"The gods are evil spirits," replied Ursus, with simplicity, "and
where there are no Romans, there is no supremacy."
Here he fixed the fire, and said, as if to himself, -- "When Caesar
took Callina to the palace, and I thought that harm might meet her,
I wanted to go to the forest and bring Lygians to help the king's
daughter. And Lygians would have moved toward the Danube, for
they are virtuous people though pagan. There I should have given
them 'good tidings.' But as it is, if ever Callina returns to Pomponia
Gra~cina I will bow down to her for permission to go to them; for
Christus was born far away, and they have not even heard of Him.
He knew better than I where He should be born; but if He had
come to the world with us, in the forests, we would not have
tortured Him to death, that is certain. We would have taken care of
the Child, and guarded Him, so that never should He want for
game, mushrooms, beaver-skins, or amber. And what we
plundered from the Suevi and the Marcomani we would have
given Him, so that He might have comfort and plenty."
Thus speaking, he put near the fire the vessel with food for
Vinicius, and was silent. His thoughts wandered evidently, for a
time yet, through the Lygian wildernesses, till the liquid began to
boil; then he poured it into a shallow plate, and, cooling it
properly, said, -- "Glaucus advises thee, lord, to move even thy
sound arm as little as possible; Callina has commanded me to give
thee food."
Lygia commanded! There was no answer to that. It did not even
come to Vinicius's head to oppose her will, just as if she had been
the daughter of Cirsar or a goddess. He uttered not a word,
therefore; and Ursus, sitting near his bed, took out the liquid with a
small cup, and put it to his mouth. He did this so carefully, and
with such a kindly smile, that Vinicius could not believe his own
eyes, could not think him the same terrible Titan who the day
before had crushed Croton, and, rushing on him like a storm,
would have torn him to pieces but for Lygia's pity. The young
patrician, for the first time in life, began to ponder over this: What
can take place in the breast of a simple man, a barbarian, and a
servant?
But Ursus proved to be a nurse as awkward as painstaking; the cup
was lost among his herculean fingers so completely that there was
no place left for the mouth of the sick man. After a few fruitless
efforts the giant was troubled greatly, and said, -- "Li! it would be
easier to lead an aurochs out of a snare." The anxiety of the Lygian
amused Vinicius, but his remark did not interest
hit-n less. He had seen in circuses the terrible urus, brought from
wildernesses of the north, against which the most daring bestiarii
went with dread, and which yielded only to elephants in size and
strength.
"Hast thou tried to take such beasts by the horns?" inquired he,
with astonishment.
"Till the twentieth winter passed over me, I was afraid," answered
Ursus; "but after that it happened."
And he began to feed Vinicius still more awkwardly than before.
"1 must ask Miriam or Nazarius," said he.
But now Lygia's pale face appeared from behind the curtaiil.
"I will assist directly," said she. And after a while she came from
the cubiculum, in which she had been preparing to sleep, as it
seemed, for she was in a single close tunic, called by the ancients
capitium, covering the breast completely, and her hair was
unbound. Vinicius, whose heart beat with more quickness at sight
of her, began to upbraid her for not thinking of sleep yet; but she
answered joyously, -- "I was just preparing to sleep, but first I will
take the place of Ursus."
She took the cup, and, sitting on the edge of the bed, began to give
food to Vinicius, who felt at once overcome and delighted. When
she inclined toward him, the warmth of her body struck him, and
her unbound hair fell on his breast. He grew pale from the
impression; but in the confusion and impulse of desires he felt also
that that was a head dear above all and magnified above all, in
comparison with which the whole world was nothing. At first he
had desired her; now he began to love her with a full breast.
Before that, as generally in life and in feeling, he had been, like all
people of that time, a blind, unconditional egotist, who thought
only of himself; at present he began to think of her.
After a while, therefore, he refused further nourishment; and
though he found inexhaustible delight in her presence and in
looking at her, he said, -- "Enough! Go to rest, my divine one."
"Do not address me in that way," answered Lygia; "it is not proper
for me to hear such words."
She smiled at him, however, and said that sleep had fled from her,
that she felt no toil, that she would not go to rest till Glaucus came.
He listened to her words as to music; his heart rose with increasing
delight, increasing gratitude, and his thought was struggling to
show her that gratitude.
"Lygia," said he, after a moment of silence, "I did not know thee
hitherto. But I know now that I wished to attain thee by a false
way; hence I say, return to Pomponia Graecina, and be assured that
in future no hand will be raised against thee."
Her face became sad on a sudden. "I should be happy," answered
she, "could I look at her, even from a distance; but I cannot return
to her now."
"Why?" inquired Vinicius, with astonishment.
"We Christians know, through Acte, what is done on the Palatine.
Hast thou not heard that Caesar, soon after my flight and before his
departure for Naples, summoned Aulus and Pomponia, and,
thinking that they had helped me, threatened them with his anger?
Fortunately Aulus was able to say to him, 'Thou knowest, lord, that
a lie has never passed my lips; I swear to thee now that we did not
help her to escape, and we do not know, as thou dost not, what has
happened to her.' Caesar believed, and afterward forgot. By the
advice of the elders I have never written to mother where I am, so
that she might take an oath boldly at all times that she has no
knowledge of me. Thou wilt not understand this, perhaps, O
Vinicius; but it is not permitted us to lie, even in a question
involving life. Such is the religion on which we fashion our hearts;
therefore I have not seen Pomponia from the hour when I left her
house. From time to time distant echoes barely reach her that I am
alive and not in danger."
Here a longing seized Lygia, and her eyes were moist with tears;
but she calmed herself quickly, and said, -- "I know that Pomponia,
too, yearns for me; but we have consolation which others have
not."
"Yes," answered Vinicius, "Christ is your consolation, but I do not
understand that."
"Look at us! For us there are no partings, no pains, no sufferings;
or if they come they are turned into pleasure. And death itself,
which for you is the end of life, is for us merely its beginning, --
the exchange of a lower for a higher happiness, a happiness less
calm for one calmer and eternal. Consider what must a religion be
which enjoins on us love even for our enemies, forbids falsehood,
purifies our souls from hatred, and promises happiness
inexhaustible after death."
"I heard those teachings in Ostrianum, and I have seen how ye
acted with me and with Chilo; when I remember your deeds, they
are like a dream, and it seems to me that I ought not to believe my
ears or eyes. But answer me this question: Art thou happy?"
"I am," answered Lygia. "One who confesses Christ cannot be
unhappy." Vinicius looked at her, as though what she said passed
every measure of human understanding.
"And hast thou no wish to return to Pomponia?"
"I should like, from my whole soul, to return to her; and shall
return, if such be God's will."
"I say to thee, therefore, return; and I swear by my lares that I will
not raise a hand against thee."
Lygia thought for a moment, and answered, -- "No, I cannot expose
those near me to danger. Caesar does not like the Plautiuses.
Should I return -- thou knowest how every news is spread
throughout Rome by slaves -- my return would be noised about in
the city. Nero would hear of it surely through his slaves, and
punish Aulus and Pomponia, -- at least take me from them a
second time."
"True," answered Vinicius, frowning, "that would be possible. He
would do so, even to show that his will must be obeyed. It is true
that he only forgot thee, or would remember thee, because the loss
was not his, but mine. Perhaps, if he took thee from Aulus and
Pomponia, he would send thee to mc and I could give thee back to
them."
"Vinicius, wouldst thou see me again on the Palatine?" inquired
Lygia. He set his teeth, and answered, -- "No. Thou art right. I
spoke like a fool! No!" And all at once he saw before him a
precipice, as it were without bottom.
He was a patrician, a military tribune, a powerful man; but above
every power of that world to which he belonged was a madman
whose will and malignity it was impossible to foresee. Only such
people as the Christians might cease to reckon with Nero or fear
him, -- people for whom this whole world, with its separations and
sufferings, was as nothing; people for whom death itself was as
nothing. All others had to tremble before him. The terrors of the
time in which they lived showed themselves to Vinicius in all their
monstrous extent. He could not return Lygia to Aulus and
Pomponia, then, through fear that the monster would remember
her, and turn on her his anger; for the very same reason, if he
should take her as wife, he might expose her, himself, and Aulus.
A moment of ill-humor was enough to ruin all. Vinicius felt, for
the first time in life, that either the world must change and be
transformed, or life would become impossible altogether. He
understood also this, which a moment before had been dark to
him, that in such times only Christians could be happy.
But above all, sorrow seized him, for he understood, too, that it
was he who had so involved his own life and Lygia's that out of the
complication there was scarcely an outcome. And under the
influence of that sorrow he began to speak:
"Dost thou know that thou art happier than I? Thou art in poverty,
arid in this one chamber, among simple people, thou hast thy
religion and thy Christ; but I have only thee, and when I lacked
thee I was like a beggar without a roof above him and without
bread. Thou art dearer to me than the whole world. I sought thee,
for I could not live without thee. I wished neither feasts nor sleep.
Had it not been for the hope of finding thee, I should have cast
myself on a sword. But I fear death, for if dead I could not see
thee. I speak the pure truth in saying that I shall not be able to live
without thee. I have lived so far only in the hope of finding and
beholding thee. Dost thou remember our conversations at the
house of Aulus? Once thou didst draw a fish for me on the sand,
and I knew not what its meaning was. Dost thou remember how
we played ball? I loved thee then above life, and thou had5t begun
already to divine that I loved thee. Aulus came, frightened us with
Libitina, and interrupted our talk. Pomponia, at parting, told
Petronius that God is one, all-mighty and all-merciful, but it did
not even occur to us that Christ was thy God and hers. Let Him
give thee to me and I will love Him, though He seems to me a god
of slaves, foreigners, and beggars. Thou sittest near me, and
thinkest of Him only. Think of me too, or I shall hate Him. For me
thou alone art a divinity. Blessed be thy father and mother; blessed
the land which produced thee! I should wish to embrace thy feet
and pray to thee, give thee honor, homage, offerings, thou thrice
divine! Thou knowest not, or canst not know, how I love thee."
Thus speaking, he placed his hand on his pale forehead and closed
his eyes. His nature never knew bounds in love or anger. He spoke
with enthusiasm, like a man who, having lost self-control, has no
wish to observe any measure in words or feelings. But he spoke
from the depth of his soul, and sincerely. It was to be felt that the
pain, ecstasy, desire, and homage accumulated in his breast had
burst forth at last in an irresistible torrent of words. To Lygia his
words appeared blasphemous, but still her heart began to beat as if
it would tear the tunic enclosing her bosom. She could not resist
pity for him and his suffering. She was moved by the homage with
which he spoke to her. She felt beloved and deified without
bounds; she felt that that unbending and dangerous man belonged
to her now, soul and body, like a slave; and that feeling of his
submission and her own power filled her with happiness. Her
recollections revived in one moment. He was for her again that
splendid Vinicius, beautiful as a pagan god; he, who in the house
of Aulus had spoken to her of love, and roused as if from sleep her
heart half childlike at that time; he from whose embraces Ursus
had wrested her on the Palatine, as he might have wrested her from
flames. But at present, with ecstasy, and at the same time with pain
in his eagle face, with pale forehead and imploring eyes, --
wounded, broken by love, loving, full of homage and submissive,
-- he seemed to her such as she would have wished him, and such
as she would have loved with her whole soul, therefore dearer than
he had ever been before.
All at once she understood that a moment might come in which his
love would seize her and bear her away, as a whirlwind; and when
she felt this, she had the same impression that he had a moment
before, -- that she was standing on the edge of a precipice. Was it
for this that she had left the house of Aulus? Was it for this that
she had saved herself by flight? Was it for this that she had hidden
so long in wretched parts of the city? Who was that Vinicius? An
Augustian, a soldier, a courtier of Nero! Moreover he took part in
his profligacy and madness, as was shown by that feast, which she
could not forget; and he went with others to the temples, and made
offerings to vile gods, in whom he did not believe, perhaps, but
still he gave them official honor. Still more he had pursued her to
make her his slave and mistress, and at the same time to thrust her
into that terrible world of excess, luxury, crime, and dishonor
which calls for the anger and vengeance of God. He seemed
changed, it is true, but still he had just said to her that if she would
think more of Christ than of him, he was ready to hate Christ. It
seemed to Lygia that the very idea of any other love than the love
of Christ was a sin against Him and against religion. When she
saw then that other feelings and desires might be roused in the
depth of her soul, she was seized by alarm for her own future and
her own heart.
At this moment of internal struggle appeared Glaucus, who had
come to care for the patient and study his health. In the twinkle of
an eye, anger and impatience were reflected on the face of
Vinicius. He was angry that his conversation with Lygia had been
interrupted; and when Glaucus questioned him, he answered with
contempt almost. It is true that he moderated himself quickly; but
if Lygia had any illusions as to this, -- that what he had heard in
Ostrianum might have acted on his unyielding nature, -- those
illusions must vanish. He had changed only for her; but beyond
that single feeling there remained in his breast the former harsh
and selfish heart, truly Roman and wolfish, incapable not only of
the sweet sentiment of Christian teaching but even of gratitude.
She went away at last filled with internal care and anxiety.
Formerly in her prayers she had offered to Christ a heart calm, and
really pure as a tear. Now that calmness was disturbed. To the
interior of the flower a poisonous insect had come and began to
buzz. Even sleep, in spite of the two nights passed without sleep,
brought her no relief. She dreamed that at Ostrianum Nero, at the
head of a whole band of Augustians, bacchantes, corybantes, and
gladiators, was trampling crowds of Christians with his chariot
wreathed in roses; and Vinicius seized her by the arm, drew her to
the quadriga, and, pressing her to his bosom, whispered "Come
with us." _