Quo Vadis: A Narrative of the Time of Nero
have gifted me, and which men say I should preserve for the benefit of
mankind? Is it not Rome that injures me; is it not the exhalations of
the Subura and the Esquiline which add to my hoarseness? Would not
the palaces of Rome present a spectacle a hundredfold more tragic and
magnificent than Antium?’ Here all began to talk, and to say what an
unheard tragedy the picture of a city like that would be, a city which
had conquered the world turned now into a heap of gray ashes. Cæsar
declared that then his poem would surpass the songs of Homer, and he
began to describe how he would rebuild the city, and how coming ages
would admire his achievements, in presence of which all other human
works would be petty. ‘Do that! do that!’ exclaimed the drunken company.
‘I must have more faithful and more devoted friends,’ answered he.
“I confess that I was alarmed at once when I heard this, for thou art in
Rome, carissima. I laugh now at that alarm, and I think that Cæsar and
his friends, though mad, would not dare to permit such insanity. Still,
see how a man fears for his love; I should prefer that the house of
Linus were not in that narrow Trans-Tiber alley, and in a part occupied
by common people, who are less considered in such a case. For me, the
very palaces on the Palatine would not be a residence fit for thee;
hence I should wish also that nothing were lacking thee of those
ornaments and comforts to which thou art accustomed from childhood.
“Go to the house of Aulus, my Lygia. I have thought much here over
this matter. If Cæsar were in Rome, news of thy return might reach the
Palatine through slaves, turn attention to thee, and bring persecution,
because thou didst dare to act against the will of Cæsar. But he will
remain long in Antium, and before he returns slaves will have ceased to
speak of thee. Linus and Ursus can be with thee. Besides, I live in hope
that before Palatine sees Cæsar, thou, my goddess, shalt be dwelling
in thy own house on the Carinæ. Blessed be the day, hour, and moment in
which thou shalt cross my threshold; and if Christ, whom I am learning
to accept, effects this, may His name be blessed also. I shall serve
Him, and give life and blood for Him. I speak incorrectly; we shall
serve Him, both of us, as long as the threads of life hold.
“I love thee and salute thee with my whole soul.”
Chapter XXXIX
Unsus was taking water from a cistern, and while drawing up a double
amphora, with a rope, was singing a strange Lygian song in an undertone,
looking meanwhile with delighted eyes at Lygia and Vinicius, who, among
the cypresses in Linus’s garden, seemed as white as two statues. Their
clothing was not moved by the least breeze. A golden and lily-colored
twilight was sinking on the world while they were conversing in the calm
of evening, each holding the other by the hand.
“May not some evil meet thee, Marcus, because thou hast left Antium
without Cæsar’s knowledge?” asked Lygia.
“No, my dear,” answered Vinicius. “Cæsar announced that he would shut
himself in for two days with Terpnos, and compose new songs. He acts
thus frequently, and at such times neither knows nor remembers aught
else. Moreover, what is Cæsar to me since I am near thee and am looking
at thee? I have yearned too much already, and these last nights sleep
has left me. More than once, when I dozed from weariness, I woke on a
sudden, with a feeling that danger was hanging over thee; at times I
dreamed that the relays of horses which were to bear me from Antium to
Rome were stolen,--horses with which I passed that road more swiftly
than any of Cæsar’s couriers. Besides, I could not live longer without
thee; I love thee too much for that, my dearest.”
“I knew that thou wert coming. Twice Ursus ran out, at my request, to
the Carinæ, and inquired for thee at thy house. Linus laughed at me, and
Ursus also.”
It was, indeed, evident that she had expected him; for instead of her
usual dark dress, she wore a soft white stola, out of whose beautiful
folds her arms and head emerged like primroses out of snow. A few ruddy
anemones ornamented her hair.
Vinicius pressed his lips to her hands; then they sat on the stone bench
amidst wild grapevines, and inclining toward each other, were silent,
looking at the twilight whose last gleams were reflected in their eyes.
The charm of the quiet evening mastered them completely.
“How calm it is here, and how beautiful the world is,” said Vinicius,
in a lowered voice. “The night is wonderfully still. I feel happier than
ever in life before. Tell me, Lygia, what is this? Never have I thought
that there could be such love. I thought that love was merely fire
in the blood and desire; but now for the first time I see that it is
possible to love with every drop of one’s blood and every breath, and
feel therewith such sweet and immeasurable calm as if Sleep and Death
had put the soul to rest. For me this is something new. I look on this
calmness of the trees, and it seems to be within me. Now I understand
for the first time that there may be happiness of which people have not
known thus far. Now I begin to understand why thou and Pomponia Græcina
have such peace. Yes! Christ gives it.”
At that moment Lygia placed her beautiful face on his shoulder
and said,--“My dear Marcus--” But she was unable to continue. Joy,
gratitude, and the feeling that at last she was free to love deprived
her of voice, and her eyes were filled with tears of emotion.
Vinicius, embracing her slender form with his arm, drew her toward him
and said,--“Lygia! May the moment be blessed in which I heard His name
for the first time.”
“I love thee, Marcus,” said she then in a low voice.
Both were silent again, unable to bring words from their overcharged
breasts. The last lily reflections had died on the cypresses, and the
garden began to be silver-like from the crescent of the moon. After a
while Vinicius said,
“I know. Barely had I entered here, barely had I kissed thy dear hands,
when I read in thy eyes the question whether I had received the divine
doctrine to which thou art attached, and whether I was baptized. No, I
am not baptized yet; but knowest thou, my flower, why? Paul said to me:
‘I have convinced thee that God came into the world and gave Himself to
be crucified for its salvation; but let Peter wash thee in the fountain
of grace, he who first stretched his hands over thee and blessed thee.’
And I, my dearest, wish thee to witness my baptism, and I wish Pomponia
to be my godmother. This is why I am not baptized yet, though I believe
in the Saviour and in his teaching. Paul has convinced me, has converted
me; and could it be otherwise? How was I not to believe that Christ came
into the world, since he, who was His disciple, says so, and Paul, to
whom He appeared? How was I not to believe that He was God, since He
rose from the dead? Others saw Him in the city and on the lake and on
the mountain; people saw Him whose lips have not known a lie. I began
to believe this the first time I heard Peter in Ostrianum, for I said to
myself even then: In the whole world any other man might lie rather than
this one who says, ‘I saw.’ But I feared thy religion. It seemed to
me that thy religion would take thee from me. I thought that there was
neither wisdom nor beauty nor happiness in it. But to-day, when I know
it, what kind of man should I be were I not to wish truth to rule the
world instead of falsehood, love instead of hatred, virtue instead
of crime, faithfulness instead of unfaithfulness, mercy instead of
vengeance? What sort of man would he be who would not choose and wish
the same? But your religion teaches this. Others desire justice also;
but thy religion is the only one which makes man’s heart just, and
besides makes it pure, like thine and Pomponia’s, makes it faithful,
like thine and Pomponia’s. I should be blind were I not to see this. But
if in addition Christ God has promised eternal life, and has promised
happiness as immeasurable as the all-might of God can give, what more
can one wish? Were I to ask Seneca why he enjoins virtue, if wickedness
brings more happiness, he would not be able to say anything sensible.
But I know now that I ought to be virtuous, because virtue and love flow
from Christ, and because, when death closes my eyes, I shall find life
and happiness, I shall find myself and thee. Why not love and accept a
religion which both speaks the truth and destroys death? Who would
not prefer good to evil? I thought thy religion opposed to happiness;
meanwhile Paul has convinced me that not only does it not take away, but
that it gives. All this hardly finds a place in my head; but I feel that
it is true, for I have never been so happy, neither could I be, had I
taken thee by force and possessed thee in my house. Just see, thou hast
said a moment since, ‘I love thee,’ and I could not have won these words
from thy lips with all the might of Rome. O Lygia! Reason declares this
religion divine, and the best; the heart feels it, and who can resist
two such forces?”
Lygia listened, fixing on him her blue eyes, which in the light of the
moon were like mystic flowers, and bedewed like flowers.
“Yes, Marcus, that is true!” said she, nestling her head more closely to
his shoulder.
And at that moment they felt immensely happy, for they understood
that besides love they were united by another power, at once sweet
and irresistible, by which love itself becomes endless, not subject to
change, deceit, treason, or even death. Their hearts were filled with
perfect certainty that, no matter what might happen, they would not
cease to love and belong to each other. For that reason an unspeakable
repose flowed in on their souls. Vinicius felt, besides, that that love
was not merely profound and pure, but altogether new,--such as the world
had not known and could not give. In his head all was combined in this
love,--Lygia, the teaching of Christ, the light of the moon resting
calmly on the cypresses, and the still night,--so that to him the whole
universe seemed filled with it.
After a while he said with a lowered and quivering voice: “Thou wilt be
the soul of my soul, and the dearest in the world to me. Our hearts will
beat together, we shall have one prayer and one gratitude to Christ. O
my dear! To live together, to honor together the sweet God, and to know
that when death comes our eyes will open again, as after a pleasant
sleep, to a new light,--what better could be imagined? I only marvel
that I did not understand this at first. And knowest thou what occurs
to me now? That no one can resist this religion. In two hundred or
three hundred years the whole world will accept it. People will forget
Jupiter, and there will be no God except Christ, and no other temples
but Christian. Who would not wish his own happiness? Ah! but I heard
Paul’s conversation with Petronius and dost thou know what Petronius
said at the end? ‘That is not for me’; but he could give no other
answer.”
“Repeat Paul’s words to me,” said Lygia.
“It was at my house one evening. Petronius began to speak playfully and
to banter, as he does usually, whereupon Paul said to him: ‘How canst
thou deny, O wise Petronius, that Christ existed and rose from the dead,
since thou wert not in the world at that time, but Peter and John saw
Him, and I saw Him on the road to Damascus? Let thy wisdom show, first
of all, then, that we are liars, and then only deny our testimony.’
Petronius answered that he had no thought of denying, for he knew
that many incomprehensible things were done, which trustworthy people
affirmed. ‘But the discovery of some new foreign god is one thing,’ said
he, ‘and the reception of his teaching another. I have no wish to know
anything which may deform life and mar its beauty. Never mind whether