Quo Vadis: A Narrative of the Time of Nero
not of her to Cæsar, or thou wilt bring on her Poppæa’s vengeance. Her
eyes have wept enough because of thee already, and may all the gods
guard her poor head.”
“Dost thou love her, Acte?” inquired Vinicius, gloomily.
“Yes, I love her.” And tears glittered in the eyes of the freedwoman.
“Thou lovest her because she has not repaid thee with hatred, as she has
me.”
Acte looked at him for a time as if hesitating, or as if wishing to
learn if he spoke sincerely; then she said,--“O blind and passionate
man--she loved thee.”
Vinicius sprang up under the influence of those words, as if possessed.
“It is not true.”
She hated him. How could Acte know? Would Lygia make a confession to her
after one day’s acquaintance? What love is that which prefers wandering,
the disgrace of poverty, the uncertainty of to-morrow, or a shameful
death even, to a wreath-bedecked house, in which a lover is waiting with
a feast? It is better for him not to hear such things, for he is ready
to go mad. He would not have given that girl for all Cæsar’s treasures,
and she fled. What kind of love is that which dreads delight and gives
pain? Who can understand it? Who can fathom it? Were it not for the
hope that he should find her, he would sink a sword in himself. Love
surrenders; it does not take away. There were moments at the house of
Aulus when he himself believed in near happiness, but now he knows
that she hated him, that she hates him, and will die with hatred in her
heart.
But Acte, usually mild and timid, burst forth in her turn with
indignation. How had he tried to win Lygia? Instead of bowing before
Aulus and Pomponia to get her, he took the child away from her parents
by stratagem. He wanted to make, not a wife, but a concubine of her, the
foster daughter of an honorable house, and the daughter of a king.
He had her brought to this abode of crime and infamy; he defiled her
innocent eyes with the sight of a shameful feast; he acted with her as
with a wanton. Had he forgotten the house of Aulus and Pomponia Græcina,
who had reared Lygia? Had he not sense enough to understand that there
are women different from Nigidia or Calvia Crispinilla or Poppæa, and
from all those whom he meets in Cæsar’s house? Did he not understand at
once on seeing Lygia that she is an honest maiden, who prefers death to
infamy? Whence does he know what kind of gods she worships, and whether
they are not purer and better than the wanton Venus, or than Isis,
worshipped by the profligate women of Rome? No! Lygia had made no
confession to her, but she had said that she looked for rescue to him,
to Vinicius: she had hoped that he would obtain for her permission from
Cæsar to return home, that he would restore her to Pomponia. And while
speaking of this, Lygia blushed like a maiden who loves and trusts.
Lygia’s heart beat for him; but he, Vinicius, had terrified and offended
her; had made her indignant; let him seek her now with the aid of
Cæsar’s soldiers, but let him know that should Poppæa’s child die,
suspicion will fall on Lygia, whose destruction will then be inevitable.
Emotion began to force its way through the anger and pain of Vinicius.
The information that he was loved by Lygia shook him to the depth of his
soul. He remembered her in Aulus’s garden, when she was listening to his
words with blushes on her face and her eyes full of light. It seemed
to him then that she had begun to love him; and all at once, at that
thought, a feeling of certain happiness embraced him, a hundred times
greater than that which he desired. He thought that he might have won
her gradually, and besides as one loving him. She would have wreathed
his door, rubbed it with wolf’s fat, and then sat as his wife by
his hearth on the sheepskin. He would have heard from her mouth the
sacramental: “Where thou art, Caius, there am I, Caia.” And she would
have been his forever. Why did he not act thus? True, he had been ready
so to act. But now she is gone, and it may be impossible to find her;
and should he find her, perhaps he will cause her death, and should he
not cause her death, neither she nor Aulus nor Pomponia Græcina will
favor him. Here anger raised the hair on his head again; but his anger
turned now, not against the house of Aulus, or Lygia, but against
Petronius. Petronius was to blame for everything. Had it not been
for him Lygia would not have been forced to wander; she would be his
betrothed, and no danger would be hanging over her dear head. But now
all is past, and it is too late to correct the evil which will not yield
to correction.
“Too late!” And it seemed to him that a gulf had opened before his
feet. He did not know what to begin, how to proceed, whither to betake
himself. Acte repeated as an echo the words, “Too late,” which from
another’s mouth sounded like a death sentence. He understood one thing,
however, that he must find Lygia, or something evil would happen to him.
And wrapping himself mechanically in his toga, he was about to depart
without taking farewell even of Acte, when suddenly the curtain
separating the entrance from the atrium was pushed aside, and he saw
before him the pensive figure of Pomponia Græcina.
Evidently she too had heard of the disappearance of Lygia, and, judging
that she could see Acte more easily than Aulus, had come for news to
her.
But, seeing Vinicius, she turned her pale, delicate face to him, and
said, after a pause,--“May God forgive thee the wrong, Marcus, which
thou hast done to us and to Lygia.”
He stood with drooping head, with a feeling of misfortune and guilt, not
understanding what God was to forgive him or could forgive him. Pomponia
had no cause to mention forgiveness; she ought to have spoken of
revenge.
At last he went out with a head devoid of counsel, full of grievous
thoughts, immense care, and amazement.
In the court and under the gallery were crowds of anxious people. Among
slaves of the palace were knights and senators who had come to inquire
about the health of the infant, and at the same time to show themselves
in the palace, and exhibit a proof of their anxiety, even in presence of
Nero’s slaves. News of the illness of the “divine” had spread quickly
it was evident, for new forms appeared in the gateway every moment, and
through the opening of the arcade whole crowds were visible. Some of the
newly arrived, seeing that Vinicius was coming from the palace, attacked
him for news; but he hurried on without answering their questions,
till Petronius, who had come for news too, almost struck his breast and
stopped him.
Beyond doubt Vinicius would have become enraged at sight of Petronius,
and let himself do some lawless act in Cæsar’s palace, had it not
been that when he had left Acte he was so crushed, so weighed down and
exhausted, that for the moment even his innate irascibility had left
him. He pushed Petronius aside and wished to pass; but the other
detained him, by force almost.
“How is the divine infant?” asked he.
But this constraint angered Vinicius a second time, and roused his
indignation in an instant.
“May Hades swallow her and all this house!” said he, gritting his teeth.
“Silence, hapless man!” said Petronius, and looking around he added
hurriedly,--“If thou wish to know something of Lygia, come with me; I
will tell nothing here! Come with me; I will tell my thoughts in the
litter.”
And putting his arm around the young tribune, he conducted him from the
palace as quickly as possible. That was his main concern, for he had no
news whatever; but being a man of resources, and having, in spite of
his indignation of yesterday, much sympathy for Vinicius, and finally
feeling responsible for all that had happened, he had undertaken
something already, and when they entered the litter he said,--“I have
commanded my slaves to watch at every gate. I gave them an accurate
description of the girl, and that giant who bore her from the feast at
Cæsar’s,--for he is the man, beyond doubt, who intercepted her. Listen
to me: Perhaps Aulus and Pomponia wish to secrete her in some estate
of theirs; in that case we shall learn the direction in which they took
her. If my slaves do not see her at some gate, we shall know that she
is in the city yet, and shall begin this very day to search in Rome for
her.”
“Aulus does not know where she is,” answered Vinicius.
“Art thou sure of that?”
“I saw Pomponia. She too is looking for her.”
“She could not leave the city yesterday, for the gates are closed at
night. Two of my people are watching at each gate. One is to follow
Lygia and the giant, the other to return at once and inform me. If she
is in the city, we shall find her, for that Lygian is easily recognized,
even by his stature and his shoulders. Thou art lucky that it was not
Cæsar who took her, and I can assure thee that he did not, for there are
no secrets from me on the Palatine.”
But Vinicius burst forth in sorrow still more than in anger, and in a
voice broken by emotion told Petronius what he had heard from Acte,
and what new dangers were threatening Lygia,--dangers so dreadful
that because of them there would be need to hide her from Poppæa most
carefully, in case they discovered her. Then he reproached Petronius
bitterly for his counsel. Had it not been for him, everything would have
gone differently. Lygia would have been at the house of Aulus, and he,
Vinicius, might have seen her every day, and he would have been happier
at that moment than Cæsar. And carried away as he went on with his
narrative, he yielded more and more to emotion, till at last tears of
sorrow and rage began to fall from his eyes.
Petronius, who had not even thought that the young man could love
and desire to such a degree, when he saw the tears of despair said to
himself, with a certain astonishment,--“O mighty Lady of Cyprus, thou
alone art ruler of gods and men!”
Chapter XII
WHEN they alighted in front of the arbiter’s house, the chief of the
atrium answered them that of slaves sent to the gates none had returned
yet. The atriensis had given orders to take food to them, and a new
command, that under penalty of rods they were to watch carefully all who
left the city.
“Thou seest,” said Petronius, “that they are in Rome, beyond doubt, and
in that case we shall find them. But command thy people also to watch
at the gates,--those, namely, who were sent for Lygia, as they will
recognize her easily.”
“I have given orders to send them to rural prisons,” said Vinicius, “but
I will recall the orders at once, and let them go to the gates.”
And writing a few words on a wax-covered tablet, he handed it to
Petronius, who gave directions to send it at once to the house of
Vinicius. Then they passed into the interior portico, and, sitting on
a marble bench, began to talk. The golden-haired Eunice and Iras pushed
bronze footstools under their feet, and poured wine for them into
goblets, out of wonderful narrow-necked pitchers from Volaterræ and
Cæcina.
“Hast thou among thy people any one who knows that giant Lygian?” asked
Petronius.
“Atacinus and Gulo knew him; but Atacinus fell yesterday at the litter,
and Gulo I killed.”
“I am sorry for him,” said Petronius. “He carried not only thee, but me,
in his arms.”
“I intended to free him,” answered Vinicius; “but do not mention him.
Let us speak of Lygia. Rome is a sea-”
“A sea is just the place where men fish for pearls. Of course we shall
not find her to-day, or to-morrow, but we shall find her surely. Thou
hast accused me just now of giving thee this method; but the method was
good in itself, and became bad only when turned to bad. Thou hast heard
from Aulus himself, that he intends to go to Sicily with his whole
family. In that case the girl would be far from thee.”