_ No one stopped Ursus, no one inquired even what he was doing.
Those guests who were not under the table had not kept their own
places; hence the servants, seeing a giant carrying a guest on his
arm, thought him some slave bearing out his intoxicated mistress.
Moreover, Acte was with them, and her presence removed all
suspicion.
In this way they went from the triclinium to the adjoining
chamber, and thence to the gallery leading to Acte's apartments.
To such a degree had her strength deserted Lygia, that she hung as
if dead on the arm of Ursus. But when the cool, pure breeze of
morning beat around her, she opened her eyes. It was growing
clearer and clearer in the open air. After they had passed along the
colonnade awhile, they turned to a side portico, coming out, not in
the courtyard, but the palace gardens, where the tops of the pines
and cypresses were growing ruddy from the light of morning. That
part of the building was empty, so that echoes of music and sounds
of the feast came with decreasing distinctness. It seemed to Lygia
that she had been rescued from hell, and borne into God's bright
world outside. There was something, then, besides that disgusting
tricliium. There was the sky, the dawn, light, and peace. Sudden
weeping seized the maiden, and, taking shelter on the arm of the
giant, she repeated, with sobbing, -- "Let us go home, Ursus! home,
to the house of Aulus."
"Let us go!" answered Ursus.
They found themselves now in the small atrium of Acte's
apartments. Ursus placed Lygia on a marble bench at a distance
from the fountain. Acte strove to pacify her; she urged her to sleep,
and declared that for the moment there was no danger, -- after the
feast the drunken guests would sleep till evening. For a long time
Lygia could not calm herself, and, pressing her temples with both
hands, she repeated like a child, -- "Let us go home, to the house of
Aulus!"
Ursus was ready. At the gates stood pretorians, it is true, but he
would pass them. The soldiers would not stop out-going people.
The space before the arch was crowded with litters. Guests were
beginning to go forth in throngs. No one would detain them. They
would pass with the crowd and go home directly. For that matter,
what does he care? As the queen commands, so must it be. He is
there to carry out her orders.
"Yes, Ursus," said Lygia, "let us go."
Acte was forced to find reason for both. They would pass out, true;
no one would stop them. But it is not permitted to flee from the
house of Caesar; whoso does that offends Caesar's majesty. They
may go; but in the evening a centurion at the head of soldiers will
take a death sentence to Aulus and Pomponia Graecina; they will
bring Lygia to the palace again, and then there will be no rescue
for her. Should Aulus and his wife receive her under their roof,
death awaits them to a certainty.
Lygia's arms dropped. There was no other outcome. She must
choose her own ruin or that of Plautius. In going to the feast, she
had hoped that Vinicius and Petronius would win her from Caesar,
and return her to Pornponia; now she knew that it was they who
had brought Caesar to remove her from the house of Aulus. There
was no help. Only a miracle could save her from the abyss, -- a
miracle and the might of God.
"Acte," said she, in despair, "didst thou hear Vinicius say that
Caesar had given me to him, and that he will send slaves here this
evening to take me to his house?"
"I did," answered Acte; and, raising her arms from her side, she
was silent. The despair with which Lygia spoke found in her no
echo. She herself had been Nero's favorite. Her heart, though good,
could not feel clearly the shame of such a relation. A former slave,
she had grown too much inured to the law of slavery; and, besides,
she loved Nero yet. If he returned to her, she would stretch her
arms to him, as to happiness. Comprehending clearly that Lygia
must become the mistress of the youthful and stately Vinicius, or
expose Aulus and Pomponia to ruin, she failed to understand how
the girl could hesitate.
"In Caesar's house," said she, after a while, "it would not be safer
for thee than in that of Vinicius."
And it did not occur to her that, though she told the truth, her
words meant, "Be resigned to fate and become the concubine of
Vinicius."
As to Lygia, who felt on her lips yet his kisses, burning as coals
and full of beastly desire, the blood rushed to her face with shame
at the mere thought of them.
"Never," cried she, with an outburst, "will I remain here, or at the
house of Vinicius, -- never!"
"But," inquired Acte, "is Vinicius hateful to thee?"
Lygia was unable to answer, for weeping seized her anew. Acte
gathered the maiden to her bosom, and strove to calm her
excitement. Ursus breathed heavily, and balled his giant fists; for,
loving his queen with the devotion of a dog, he could not bear the
sight of her tears. In his half-wild Lygian heart was the wish to
return to the tridinium, choke Vinicius, and, should the need come,
Caesar himself; but he feared to sacrifice thereby his mistress, and
was not certain that such an act, which to him seemed very simple,
would befit a confessor of the Crucified Lamb.
But Acte, while caressing Lygia, asked again, "Is he so hateful to
thee?"
"No," said Lygia; "it is not permitted me to hate, for I am a
Christian."
"I know, Lygia. I know also from the letters of Paul of Tarsus, that
it is not permitted to defile one's self, nor to fear death more than
sin; but tell me if thy teaching permits one person to cause the
death of others?"
"Then how canst thou bring Caesar's vengeance on the house of
Aulus?" A moment of silence followed. A bottomless abyss
yawned before Lygia again.
"I ask," continued the young freedwoman, "for I have compassion
on thee -- and I have compassion on the good Pomponia and
Aulus, and on their child. It is long since I began to live in this
house, and I know what Caesar's anger is. No! thou art not at
liberty to flee from here. One way remains to thee: implore
Vinicius to return thee to Pomponia."
But Lygia dropped on her knees to implore some one else. Ursus
knelt down after a while, too, and both began to pray in Caesar's
house at the morning dawn.
Acte witnessed such a prayer for the first time, and could not take
her eyes from Lygia, who, seen by her in profile, with raised hands,
and face turned heavenward, seemed to implore rescue. The dawn,
casting light on her dark hair and white peplus, was reflected in
her eyes. Entirely in the light, she seemed herself like light. In that
pale face, in those parted lips, in those raised hands and eyes, a
kind of superhuman exaltation was evident. Acte understood then
why Lygia could not become the concubine of any man. Before the
face of Nero's former favorite was drawn aside, as it were, a corner
of that veil which hides a world altogether different from that to
which she was accustomed. She was astonished by prayer in that
abode of crime and infamy. A moment earlier it had seemed to her
that there was no rescue for Lygia; now she began to think that
something uncommon would happen, that some aid would come,
-- aid so mighty that Caesar himself would be powerless to resist
it; that some winged army would descend from the sky to help that
maiden, or that the sun would spread its rays beneath her feet and
draw her up to itself. She had heard of many miracles among
Christians, and she thought now that everything said of them was
true, since Lygia was praying.
Lygia rose at last, with a face serene with hope. Ursus rose too,
and, holding to the bench, looked at his mistress, waiting for her
words.
But it grew dark in her eyes, and after a time two great tears rolled
down her checks slowly.
"May God bless Pomponia and Aulus," said she. "It is not
permitted me to bring ruin on them; therefore I shall never see
them again."
Then turning to Ursus she said that he alone remained to her in the
world; that he must be to her as a protector and a father. They
could not seek refuge in the house of Aulus, for they would bring
on it the anger of Caesar. But neither could she remain in the
house of Caesar or that of Vinicius. Let Ursus take her then; let
him conduct her out of the city; let him conceal her in some place
where neither Vinicius nor his servants could find her. She would
follow Ursus anywhere, even beyond the sea, even beyond the
mountains, to the barbarians, where the Roman name was not
heard, and whither the power of Caesar did not reach. Let him take
her and save her, for he alone had remained to her.
The Lygian was ready, and in sign of obedience he bent to her feet
and embraced them. But on the face of Acte, who had been
expecting a miracle, disappointment was evident. Had the prayer
effected only that much? To flee from the house of Caesar is to
commit an offence against majesty which must be avenged; and
even if Lygia succeeded in hiding, Caesar would avenge himself
on Aulus and Pomponia. If she wishes to escape, let her escape
from the house of Vinicius. Then Caesar, who does not like to
occupy himself with the affairs of others, may not wish even to aid
Vinicius in the pursuit; in every case it will not be a crime against
majesty.
But Lygia's thoughts were just the following: Aulus would not even
know where she was; Pomponia herself would not know. She
would escape not from the house of Vinicius, however, but while
on the way to it. When drunk, Vinicius had said that he would send
his slaves for her in the evening. Beyond doubt he had told the
truth, which he would not have done had he been sober. Evidently
he himself, or perhaps he and Petronius, had seen Caesar before
the feast, and won from him the promise to give her on the
following evening. And if they forgot that day, they would send for
her on the morrow. But Ursus will save her. He will come; he will
bear her out of the litter as he bore her out of the triclinium, and
they will go into the world. No one could resist Ursus, not even
that terrible athlete who wrestled at the feast yesterday. But as
Vinicius might send a great number of slaves, Ursus would go at
once to Bishop Linus for aid and counsel. The bishop will take
compassion on her, will not leave her in the hands of Vinicius; he
will command Christians to go with Ursus to rescue her. They will
seize her and bear her away; then Ursus can take her out of the city
and hide her from the power of Rome.
And her face began to flush and smile. Consolation entered her
anew, as if the hope of rescue had turned to reality. She threw
herself on Acte's neck suddenly, and, putting her beautiful lips to
Acte's cheek, she whispered:
"Thou wilt not betray, Acte, wilt thou?"
"By the shade of my mother," answered the freedwoman, "I will
not; but pray to thy God that Ursus be able to bear thee away."
The blue, childlike eyes of the giant were gleaming with
happiness. He had not been able to frame any plan, though he had
been breaking his poor head; but a thing like this he could do, --
and whether in the day or in the night it was all one to him! He
would go to the bishop, for the bishop can read in the sky what is
needed and what is not. Besides, he could assemble Christians
himself. Are his acquaintances few among slaves, gladiators, and
free people, both in the Subura and beyond the bridges? He can
collect a couple of thousand of them. He will rescue his lady, and
take her outside the city, and he can go with her. They will go to
the end of the world, even to that place from which they had come,
where no one has heard of Rome.
Here he began to look forward, as if to see things in the future and
very distant.
"To the forest? Al, what a forest, what a forest!"
But after a while he shook himself out of his visions. Well, he will
go to the bishop at once, and in the evening will wait with
something like a hundred men for the litter. And let not slaves, hut
even pretorians, take her from him! Better for any man not to come
under his fist, even though in iron armor, -- for is iron so strong?
When he strikes iron earnestly, the head underneath will not
survive.
But Lygia raised her finger with great and also childlike
seriousness.
"Ursus, do not kill," said she.
Ursus put his fist, which was like a maul, to the back of his head,
and, rubbing his neck with great seriousness, began to mutter. But
he must rescue "his light." She herself had said that his turn had
come. He will try all he can. But if something happens in spite of
him? In every case he must save her. But should anything happen,
he will repent, and so entreat the Innocent Lamb that the Crucified
Lamb will have mercy on him, poor fellow. He has no wish to
offend the Lamb; but then his hands are so heavy.
Great tenderness was expressed on his face; but wishing to
hide it, he bowed and said, -- "Now I will go to the holy bishop."
Acte put her arms around Lygia's neck, and began to weep. Once
more the freedwoman understood that there was a world in which
greater happiness existed, even in suffering, than in all the
excesses and luxury of Caesar's house. Once more a kind of door
to the light was opened a little before her, but she felt at once that
she was unworthy to pass through it. _