Quo Vadis: A Narrative of the Time of Nero
“I have commanded thee to say all thou knowest.”
“The whole familia are speaking of the flight of the maiden who was to
dwell in the house of the noble Vinicius. After thy departure, Eunice
came to me and said that she knew a man who could find her.”
“Ah! What kind of man is he?”
“I know not, lord; but I thought that I ought to inform thee of this
matter.”
“That is well. Let that man wait to-morrow in my house for the arrival
of the tribune, whom thou wilt request in my name to meet me here.”
The atriensis bowed and went out. But Petronius began to think of
Eunice. At first it seemed clear to him that the young slave wished
Vinicius to find Lygia for this reason only, that she would not be
forced from his house. Afterward, however, it occurred to him that the
man whom Eunice was pushing forward might be her lover, and all at once
that thought seemed to him disagreeable. There was, it is true, a simple
way of learning the truth, for it was enough to summon Eunice; but
the hour was late, Petronius felt tired after his long visit with
Chrysothemis, and was in a hurry to sleep. But on the way to the
cubiculum he remembered--it is unknown why--that he had noticed
wrinkles, that day, in the corners of Chrysothemis’s eyes. He thought,
also, that her beauty was more celebrated in Rome than it deserved; and
that Fonteius Capiton, who had offered him three boys from Clazomene for
Eunice, wanted to buy her too cheaply.
Chapter XIII
NEXT morning, Petronius had barely finished dressing in the unctorium
when Vinicius came, called by Tiresias. He knew that no news had come
from the gates. This information, instead of comforting him, as a proof
that Lygia was still in Rome, weighed him down still more, for he began
to think that Ursus might have conducted her out of the city immediately
after her seizure, and hence before Petronius’s slaves had begun to
keep watch at the gates. It is true that in autumn, when the days become
shorter, the gates are closed rather early; but it is true, also,
that they are opened for persons going out, and the number of these is
considerable. It was possible, also, to pass the walls by other ways,
well known, for instance, to slaves who wish to escape from the city.
Vinicius had sent out his people to all roads leading to the provinces,
to watchmen in the smaller towns, proclaiming a pair of fugitive slaves,
with a detailed description of Ursus and Lygia, coupled with the offer
of a reward for seizing them. But it was doubtful whether that pursuit
would reach the fugitives; and even should it reach them, whether the
local authorities would feel justified in making the arrest at the
private instance of Vinicius, without the support of a pretor. Indeed,
there had not been time to obtain such support. Vinicius himself,
disguised as a slave, had sought Lygia the whole day before, through
every corner of the city, but had been unable to find the least
indication or trace of her. He had seen Aulus’s servants, it is true;
but they seemed to be seeking something also, and that confirmed him
in the belief that it was not Aulus who had intercepted the maiden, and
that the old general did not know what had happened to her.
When Tiresias announced to him, then, that there was a man who would
undertake to find Lygia, he hurried with all speed to the house of
Petronius; and barely had he finished saluting his uncle, when he
inquired for the man.
“We shall see him at once, Eunice knows him,” said Petronius. “She will
come this moment to arrange the folds of my toga, and will give nearer
information concerning him.”
“Oh! she whom thou hadst the wish to bestow on me yesterday?”
“The one whom thou didst reject; for which I am grateful, for she is the
best vestiplica in the whole city.”
In fact, the vestiplica came in before he had finished speaking, and
taking the toga, laid on a chair inlaid with pearl, she opened the
garment to throw it on Petronius’s shoulder. Her face was clear and
calm; joy was in her eyes.
Petronius looked at her. She seemed to him very beautiful. After a
while, when she had covered him with the toga, she began to arrange it,
bending at times to lengthen the folds. He noticed that her arms had a
marvellous pale rose-color, and her bosom and shoulders the transparent
reflections of pearl or alabaster.
“Eunice,” said he, “has the man come to Tiresias whom thou didst mention
yesterday?”
“He has, lord.”
“What is his name?”
“Chilo Chilonides.”
“Who is he?”
“A physician, a sage, a soothsayer, who knows how to read people’s fates
and predict the future.”
“Has he predicted the future to thee?”
Eunice was covered with a blush which gave a rosy color to her ears and
her neck even.
“Yes, lord.”
“What has he predicted?”
“That pain and happiness would meet me.”
“Pain met thee yesterday at the hands of Tiresias; hence happiness also
should come.”
“It has come, lord, already.”
“What?”
“I remain,” said she in a whisper.
Petronius put his hand on her golden head.
“Thou hast arranged the folds well to-day, and I am satisfied with thee,
Eunice.”
Under that touch her eyes were mist-covered in one instant from
happiness, and her bosom began to heave quickly.
Petronius and Vinicius passed into the atrium, where Chilo Chilonides
was waiting. When he saw them, he made a low bow. A smile came to the
lips of Petronius at thought of his suspicion of yesterday, that this
man might be Eunice’s lover. The man who was standing before him could
not be any one’s lover. In that marvellous figure there was something
both foul and ridiculous. He was not old; in his dirty beard and curly
locks a gray hair shone here and there. He had a lank stomach and
stooping shoulders, so that at the first cast of the eye he appeared to
be hunchbacked; above that hump rose a large head, with the face of
a monkey and also of a fox; the eye was penetrating. His yellowish
complexion was varied with pimples; and his nose, covered with them
completely, might indicate too great a love for the bottle. His
neglected apparel, composed of a dark tunic of goat’s wool and a mantle
of similar material with holes in it, showed real or simulated poverty.
At sight of him, Homer’s Thersites came to the mind of Petronius. Hence,
answering with a wave of the hand to his bow, he said,--
“A greeting, divine Thersites! How are the lumps which Ulysses gave thee
at Troy, and what is he doing himself in the Elysian Fields?”
“Noble lord,” answered Chilo Chilonides, “Ulysses, the wisest of the
dead, sends a greeting through me to Petronius, the wisest of the
living, and the request to cover my lumps with a new mantle.”
“By Hecate Triformis!” exclaimed Petronius, “the answer deserves a new
mantle.”
But further conversation was interrupted by the impatient Vinicius, who
inquired directly,--“Dost thou know clearly what thou art undertaking?”
“When two households in two lordly mansions speak of naught else, and
when half Rome is repeating the news, it is not difficult to know,”
answered Chilo. “The night before last a maiden named Lygia, but
specially Callina, and reared in the house of Aulus Plautius, was
intercepted. Thy slaves were conducting her, O lord, from Cæsar’s palace
to thy ‘insula,’ and I undertake to find her in the city, or, if she
has left the city--which is little likely--to indicate to thee, noble
tribune, whither she has fled and where she has hidden.”
“That is well,” said Vinicius, who was pleased with the precision of the
answer. “What means hast thou to do this?”
Chilo smiled cunningly. “Thou hast the means, lord; I have the wit
only.”
Petronius smiled also, for he was perfectly satisfied with his guest.
“That man can find the maiden,” thought he. Meanwhile Vinicius wrinkled
his joined brows, and said,--“Wretch, in case thou deceive me for gain,
I will give command to beat thee with clubs.”
“I am a philosopher, lord, and a philosopher cannot be greedy of gain,
especially of such as thou hast just offered magnanimously.”
“Oh, art thou a philosopher?” inquired Petronius. “Eunice told me that
thou art a physician and a soothsayer. Whence knowest thou Eunice?”
“She came to me for aid, for my fame struck her ears.”
“What aid did she want?”
“Aid in love, lord. She wanted to be cured of unrequited love.”
“Didst thou cure her?”
“I did more, lord. I gave her an amulet which secures mutuality. In
Paphos, on the island of Cyprus, is a temple, O lord, in which is
preserved a zone of Venus. I gave her two threads from that zone,
enclosed in an almond shell.”
“And didst thou make her pay well for them?”
“One can never pay enough for mutuality, and I, who lack two fingers on
my right hand, am collecting money to buy a slave copyist to write down
my thoughts, and preserve my wisdom for mankind.”
“Of what school art thou, divine sage?”
“I am a Cynic, lord, because I wear a tattered mantle; I am a Stoic,
because I bear poverty patiently; I am a Peripatetic, for, not owning a
litter, I go on foot from one wine-shop to another, and on the way teach
those who promise to pay for a pitcher of wine.”
“And at the pitcher thou dost become a rhetor?”
“Heraclitus declares that ‘all is fluid,’ and canst thou deny, lord,
that wine is fluid?”
“And he declared that fire is a divinity; divinity, therefore, is
blushing in thy nose.”
“But the divine Diogenes from Apollonia declared that air is the essence
of things, and the warmer the air the more perfect the beings it makes,
and from the warmest come the souls of sages. And since the autumns are
cold, a genuine sage should warm his soul with wine; and wouldst thou
hinder, O lord, a pitcher of even the stuff produced in Capua or Telesia
from bearing heat to all the bones of a perishable human body?”
“Chilo Chilonides, where is thy birthplace?”
“On the Euxine Pontus. I come from Mesembria.”
“Oh, Chilo, thou art great!”
“And unrecognized,” said the sage, pensively.
But Vinicius was impatient again. In view of the hope which had gleamed
before him, he wished Chilo to set out at once on his work; hence the
whole conversation seemed to him simply a vain loss of time, and he was
angry at Petronius.
“When wilt thou begin the search?” asked he, turning to the Greek.
“I have begun it already,” answered Chilo. “And since I am here,
and answering thy affable question, I am searching yet. Only have
confidence, honored tribune, and know that if thou wert to lose the
string of thy sandal I should find it, or him who picked it up on the
street.”
“Hast thou been employed in similar services?” asked Petronius.
The Greek raised his eyes. “To-day men esteem virtue and wisdom too low,
for a philosopher not to be forced to seek other means of living.”
“What are thy means?”
“To know everything, and to serve those with news who are in need of
it.”
“And who pay for it?”
“Ah, lord, I need to buy a copyist. Otherwise my wisdom will perish with
me.”
“If thou hast not collected enough yet to buy a sound mantle, thy
services cannot be very famous.”
“Modesty hinders me. But remember, lord, that to-day there are not such
benefactors as were numerous formerly; and for whom it was as pleasant
to cover service with gold as to swallow an oyster from Puteoli. No; my
services are not small, but the gratitude of mankind is small. At times,
when a valued slave escapes, who will find him, if not the only son of
my father? When on the walls there are inscriptions against the divine
Poppæa, who will indicate those who composed them? Who will discover at
the book-stalls verses against Cæsar? Who will declare what is said in
the houses of knights and senators? Who will carry letters which the
writers will not intrust to slaves? Who will listen to news at the doors