_ FOR three days, or rather three nights, nothing disturbed their
peace. When the usual prison work was finished, which consisted
in separating the dead from the living and the grievously sick from
those in better health, when the wearied guards had lain down to
sleep in the corridors, Vinicius entered Lygia's dungeon and
remained there till daylight. She put her head on his breast, and
they talked in low voices of love and of death. In thought and
speech, in desires and hopes even, both were removed
unconsciously more and more from life, and they lost the sense of
it. Both were like people who, having sailed from land in a ship,
saw the shore no more, and were sinking gradually into infinity.
Both changed by degrees into sad souls in love with each other and
with Christ, and ready to fly away. Only at times did pain start up
in the heart of Vinicius like a whirlwind, at times there flashed in
him like lightning, hope, born of love and faith in the crucified
God; but he tore himself away more and more each day from the
earth, and yielded to death. In the morning, when he went from the
prison, he looked on the world, on the city, on acquaintances, on
vital interests, as through a dream. Everything seemed to him
strange, distant, vain, fleeting. Even torture ceased to terrify, since
one might pass through it while sunk in thought and with eyes
fixed on another thing. It seemed to both that eternity had begun to
receive them. They conversed of how they would love and live
together, but beyond the grave; and if their thoughts returned to the
earth at intervals, these were thoughts of people who, setting out
on a long journey, speak of preparations for the road. Moreover
they were surrounded by such silence as in some desert surrounds
two columns far away and forgotten. Their only care was that
Christ should not separate them; and as each moment strengthened
their conviction that He would not, they loved Him as a link
uniting them in endless happiness and peace. While still on earth,
the dust of earth fell from them. The soul of each was as pure as a
tear. Under terror of death, amid misery and suffering, in that
prison den, heaven had begun, for she had taken him by the hand,
and, as if saved and a saint, had led him to the source of endless
life.
Petronius was astonished at seeing in the face of Vinicius
increasing peace and a certain wonderful serenity which he had not
noted before. At times even he supposed that Vinicius had found
some mode of rescue, and he was piqued because his nephew had
not confided his hopes to him. At last, unable to restrain himself,
he said, --
"Now thou hast another look; do not keep from me secrets, for I
wish and am able to aid thee. Hast thou arranged anything?"
"I have," said Vinicius; "but thou canst not help me. After her
death I will confess that I am a Christian and follow her."
"Then thou hast no hope?"
"On the contrary, I have. Christ will give her to me, and I shall
never be separated from her."
Petronius began to walk in the atrium; disillusion and impatience
were evident on his face.
"Thy Christ is not needed for this, -- our Thanatos 1 can render the
same service."
Vinicius smiled sadly, and said, -- "No, my dear, thou art unwilling
to understand."
"I am unwilling and unable. It is not the time for discussion, but
remember what I said when we failed to free her from the
Tullianum. I lost all hope, and on the way home thou didst say,
'But I believe that Christ can restore her to me.' Let Him restore
her. If I throw a costly goblet into the sea, no god of ours can give
it back to me; if yours is no better, I know not why I should honor
Him beyond the old ones."
"But He will restore her to me."
Pettonius shrugged his shoulders. "Dost know," inquired he, "that
Christians are to illuminate Caesar's gardens to-morrow?"
"To-morrow?" repeated Vinicius.
And in view of the near and dreadful reality his heart trembled
with pain and fear. "This is the last night, perhaps, which I can
pass with Lygia," thought he. So bidding farewell to Petronius, he
went hurriedly to the overseer of the "Putrid Pits" for his tessera.
But disappointment was in waiting, -- the overseer would not give
the tessera.
"Pardon me," said he, "I have done what I could for thee, but I
cannot risk my life. To-night they are to conduct the Christians to
Caesar's gardens. The prisons will be full of soldiers and officials.
Shouldst thou be recognized, I and my children would be lost."
Vinicius understood that it would be vain to insist. The hope
gleamed in him, however, that the soldiers who had seen him
before would admit him even without a tessera; so, with the
coming of night, he disguised himself as usual in the tunic of a
corpse-bearer, and, winding a cloth around his head, betook
himself to the prison.
But that day the tesserae were verified with greater care than
usual; and what was more, the centurion Scevinus, a strict soldier,
devoted soul and body to Caesar, recognized Vinicius. But
evidently in his iron-clad breast there glimmered yet some spark of
pity for misfortunes. Instead of striking his spear in token of alarm,
he led Vinicius aside and said, --
"Return to thy house, lord. I recognize thee; but not wishing thy
ruin, I am silent. I cannot admit thee; go thy way, and may the
gods send thee solace."
"Thou canst not admit me," said Vinicius, "but let me stand here
and look at those who are led forth."
"My order does not forbid that," said Scevinus.
Vinicius stood before the gate and waited. About midnight the
prison gate was opened widely, and whole ranks of prisoners
appeared, -- men, women, and children, surrounded by armed
pretorians. The night was very bright; hence it was possible to
distinguish not only the forms, but the faces of the unfortunates.
They went two abreast, in a long, gloomy train, amid stillness
broken only by the clatter of weapons. So many were led out that
all the dungeons must be empty, as it seemed. In the rear of the
line Vinicius saw Glaucus the physician distinctly, but Lygia and
Ursus were not among the condemned. _