Quo Vadis: A Narrative of the Time of Nero
cemetery stood a temple, in the form of a tower, in which Lygia was
priestess. He did not take his eyes from her, but saw her on the summit
of the tower, with a lute in her hands, all in the light, like those
priestesses who in the night-time sing hymns in honor of the moon,
and whom he had seen in the Orient. He himself was climbing up winding
steps, with great effort, to bear her away with him. Behind was creeping
up Chilo, with teeth chattering from terror, and repeating, “Do not
do that, lord; she is a priestess, for whom He will take vengeance.”
Vinicius did not know who that He was, but he understood that he himself
was going to commit some sacrilege, and he felt a boundless fear also.
But when he went to the balustrade surrounding the summit of the tower,
the Apostle with his silvery beard stood at Lygia’s side on a sudden,
and said:
“Do not raise a hand; she belongs to me.” Then he moved forward with
her, on a path formed by rays from the moon, as if on a path made to
heaven. He stretched his hands toward them, and begged both to take him
into their company.
Here he woke, became conscious, and looked before him. The lamp on the
tall staff shone more dimly, but still cast a light sufficiently clear.
All were sitting in front of the fire warming themselves, for the night
was chilly, and the chamber rather cold. Vinicius saw the breath coming
as steam from their lips. In the midst of them sat the Apostle; at his
knees, on a low footstool, was Lygia; farther on, Glaucus, Crispus,
Miriam, and at the edge, on one side Ursus, on the other Miriam’s son
Nazarius, a youth with a handsome face, and long, dark hair reaching
down to his shoulders.
Lygia listened with eyes raised to the Apostle, and every head was
turned toward him, while he told something in an undertone. Vinicius
gazed at Peter with a certain superstitious awe, hardly inferior to that
terror which he felt during the fever dream. The thought passed through
his mind that that dream had touched truth; that the gray-haired man
there, freshly come from distant shores, would take Lygia from him
really, and take her somewhere away by unknown paths. He felt sure also
that the old man was speaking of him, perhaps telling how to separate
him from Lygia, for it seemed to him impossible that any one could speak
of aught else. Hence, collecting all his presence of mind, he listened
to Peter’s words.
But he was mistaken altogether, for the Apostle was speaking of Christ
again.
“They live only through that name,” thought Vinicius.
The old man was describing the seizure of Christ. “A company came, and
servants of the priest to seize Him. When the Saviour asked whom they
were seeking, they answered, ‘Jesus of Nazareth.’ But when He said to
them, ‘I am He,’ they fell on the ground, and dared not raise a hand on
Him. Only after the second inquiry did they seize Him.”
Here the Apostle stopped, stretched his hands toward the fire and
continued:--“The night was cold, like this one, but the heart in me
was seething; so, drawing a sword to defend Him, I cut an ear from the
servant of the high-priest. I would have defended Him more than my own
life had He not said to me, ‘Put thy sword into the sheath: the cup
which my Father has given me, shall I not drink it?’ Then they seized
and bound Him.”
When he had spoken thus far, Peter placed his palm on his forehead,
and was silent, wishing before he went further to stop the crowd of
his recollections. But Ursus, unable to restrain himself, sprang to his
feet, trimmed the light on the staff till the sparks scattered in
golden rain and the flame shot up with more vigor. Then he sat down, and
exclaimed:
“No matter what happened. I--”
He stopped suddenly, for Lygia had put her finger to her lips. But he
breathed loudly, and it was clear that a storm was in his soul; and
though he was ready at all times to kiss the feet of the Apostle, that
act was one he could not accept; if some one in his presence had raised
hands on the Redeemer, if he had been with Him on that night--Oi!
splinters would have shot from the soldiers, the servants of the priest,
and the officials. Tears came to his eyes at the very thought of this,
and because of his sorrow and mental struggle; for on the one hand he
thought that he would not only have defended the Redeemer, but would
have called Lygians to his aid,--splendid fellows,--and on the other, if
he had acted thus he would have disobeyed the Redeemer, and hindered the
salvation of man. For this reason he could not keep back his tears.
After a while Peter took his palm from his forehead, and resumed the
narrative. But Vinicius was overpowered by a new feverish, waking dream.
What he heard now was in his mind mixed up with what the Apostle had
told the night previous in Ostrianum, of that day in which Christ
appeared on the shore of the sea of Tiberius. He saw a sheet of water
broadly spread out; on it the boat of a fisherman, and in the boat Peter
and Lygia. He himself was moving with all his might after that boat, but
pain in his broken arm prevented him from reaching it. The wind hurled
waves in his eyes, he began to sink, and called with entreating voice
for rescue. Lygia knelt down then before the Apostle, who turned his
boat, and reached an oar, which Vinicius seized: with their assistance
he entered the boat and fell on the bottom of it.
It seemed to him, then, that he stood up, and saw a multitude of people
sailing after them. Waves covered their heads with foam; in the whirl
only the hands of a few could be seen; but Peter saved the drowning time
after time, and gathered them into his boat, which grew larger, as if
by a miracle. Soon crowds filled it, as numerous as those which were
collected in Ostrianum, and then still greater crowds. Vinicius wondered
how they could find place there, and he was afraid that they would sink
to the bottom. But Lygia pacified him by showing him a light on the
distant shore toward which they were sailing. These dream pictures of
Vinicius were blended again with descriptions which he had heard in
Ostrianum, from the lips of the Apostle, as to how Christ had appeared
on the lake once. So that he saw now in that light on the shore a
certain form toward which Peter was steering, and as he approached
it the weather grew calmer, the water grew smoother, the light became
greater. The crowd began to sing sweet hymns; the air was filled with
the odor of nard; the play of water formed a rainbow, as if from the
bottom of the lake lilies and roses were looking, and at last the boat
struck its breast safely against the sand. Lygia took his hand then, and
said, “Come, I will lead thee!” and she led him to the light.
Vinicius woke again; but his dreaming ceased slowly, and he did not
recover at once the sense of reality. It seemed for a time to him that
he was still on the lake, and surrounded by crowds, among which, not
knowing the reason himself, he began to look for Petronius, and was
astonished not to find him. The bright light from the chimney, at which
there was no one at that time, brought him completely to his senses.
Olive sticks were burning slowly under the rosy ashes; but the splinters
of pine, which evidently had been put there some moments before, shot
up a bright flame, and in the light of this, Vinicius saw Lygia, sitting
not far from his bedside.
The sight of her touched him to the depth of his soul. He remembered
that she had spent the night before in Ostrianum, and had busied herself
the whole day in nursing him, and now when all had gone to rest, she was
the only one watching. It was easy to divine that she must be wearied,
for while sitting motionless her eyes were closed. Vinicius knew not
whether she was sleeping or sunk in thought. He looked at her profile,
at her drooping lashes, at her hands lying on her knees; and in his
pagan head the idea began to hatch with difficulty that at the side of
naked beauty, confident, and proud of Greek and Roman symmetry, there
is another in the world, new, immensely pure, in which a soul has its
dwelling.
He could not bring himself so far as to call it Christian, but,
thinking of Lygia, he could not separate her from the religion which she
confessed. He understood, even, that if all the others had gone to rest,
and she alone were watching, she whom he had injured, it was because her
religion commanded her to watch. But that thought, which filled him with
wonder for the religion, was disagreeable to him. He would rather that
Lygia acted thus out of love for him, his face, his eyes, his statuesque
form,--in a word for reasons because of which more than once snow-white
Grecian and Roman arms had been wound around his neck.
Still he felt all at once, that, were she like other women, something
would be lacking in her. He was amazed, and knew not what was happening
in him; for he saw that new feelings of some kind were rising in him,
new likings, strange to the world in which he had lived hitherto.
She opened her eyes then, and, seeing that Vinicius was gazing at her,
she approached him and said,--“I am with thee.”
“I saw thy soul in a dream,” replied he.
Chapter XXVI
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 he 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