Chapter VI
THE HAPPY BEAUTY AND THE BLIND SLAVE.
A SLAVE entered the chamber of Ione. A messenger from Glaucus desiredto be admitted.
Ione hesitated an instant.
'She is blind, that messenger,' said the slave; 'she will do hercommission to none but thee.'
Base is that heart which does not respect affliction! The moment sheheard the messenger was blind, Ione felt the impossibility of returninga chilling reply. Glaucus had chosen a herald that was indeed sacred--aherald that could not be denied.
'What can he want with me? what message can he send?' and the heart ofIone beat quick. The curtain across the door was withdrawn; a soft andecholess step fell upon the marble; and Nydia, led by one of theattendants, entered with her precious gift.
She stood still a moment, as if listening for some sound that mightdirect her.
'Will the noble Ione,' said she, in a soft and low voice, 'deign tospeak, that I may know whither to steer these benighted steps, and thatI may lay my offerings at her feet?'
'Fair child,' said Ione, touched and soothingly, 'give not thyself thepain to cross these slippery floors, my attendant will bring to me whatthou hast to present'; and she motioned to the handmaid to take thevase.
'I may give these flowers to none but thee,' answered Nydia; and, guidedby her ear, she walked slowly to the place where Ione sat, and kneelingwhen she came before her, proffered the vase.
Ione took it from her hand, and placed it on the table at her side. Shethen raised her gently, and would have seated her on the couch, but thegirl modestly resisted.
'I have not yet discharged my office,' said she; and she drew the letterof Glaucus from her vest. 'This will, perhaps, explain why he who sentme chose so unworthy a messenger to Ione.'
The Neapolitan took the letter with a hand, the trembling of which Nydiaat once felt and sighed to feel. With folded arms, and downcast looks,she stood before the proud and stately form of Ione--no less proud,perhaps, in her attitude of submission. Ione waved her hand, and theattendants withdrew; she gazed again upon the form of the young slave insurprise and beautiful compassion; then, retiring a little from her, sheopened and read the following letter:
'Glaucus to Ione sends more than he dares to utter. Is Ione ill? thyslaves tell me "No", and that assurance comforts me. Has Glaucusoffended Ione?--ah! that question I may not ask from them. For fivedays I have been banished from thy presence. Has the sun shone?--I knowit not. Has the sky smiled?--it has had no smile for me. My sun and mysky are Ione. Do I offend thee? Am I too bold? Do I say that on thetablet which my tongue has hesitated to breathe? Alas! it is in thineabsence that I feel most the spells by which thou hast subdued me. Andabsence, that deprives me of joy, brings me courage. Thou wilt not seeme; thou hast banished also the common flatterers that flock aroundthee. Canst thou confound me with them? It is not possible! Thouknowest too well that I am not of them--that their clay is not mine. Foreven were I of the humblest mould, the fragrance of the rose haspenetrated me, and the spirit of thy nature hath passed within me, toembalm, to sanctify, to inspire. Have they slandered me to thee, Ione?Thou wilt not believe them. Did the Delphic oracle itself tell me thouwert unworthy, I would not believe it; and am I less incredulous thanthou I think of the last time we met--of the song which I sang tothee--of the look that thou gavest me in return. Disguise it as thou wilt,Ione, there is something kindred between us, and our eyes acknowledgedit, though our lips were silent. Deign to see me, to listen to me, andafter that exclude me if thou wilt. I meant not so soon to say I loved.But those words rush to my heart--they will have way. Accept, then, myhomage and my vows. We met first at the shrine of Pallas; shall we notmeet before a softer and a more ancient altar?
'Beautiful! adored Ione! If my hot youth and my Athenian blood havemisguided and allured me, they have but taught my wanderings toappreciate the rest--the haven they have attained. I hang up mydripping robes on the Sea-god's shrine. I have escaped shipwreck. Ihave found THEE. Ione, deign to see me; thou art gentle to strangers,wilt thou be less merciful to those of thine own land? I await thyreply. Accept the flowers which I send--their sweet breath has alanguage more eloquent than words. They take from the sun the odorousthey return--they are the emblem of the love that receives and repaystenfold--the emblem of the heart that drunk thy rays, and owes to theethe germ of the treasures that it proffers to thy smile. I send theseby one whom thou wilt receive for her own sake, if not for mine. She,like us, is a stranger; her fathers' ashes lie under brighter skies:but, less happy than we, she is blind and a slave. Poor Nydia! I seekas much as possible to repair to her the cruelties of Nature and ofFate, in asking permission to place her with thee. She is gentle,quick, and docile. She is skilled in music and the song; and she is avery Chloris to the flowers. She thinks, Ione, that thou wilt love her:if thou dost not, send her back to me.
'One word more--let me be bold, Ione. Why thinkest thou so highly ofyon dark Egyptian? he hath not about him the air of honest men. WeGreeks learn mankind from our cradle; we are not the less profound, inthat we affect no sombre mien; our lips smile, but our eyes aregrave--they observe--they note--they study. Arbaces is not one to becredulously trusted: can it be that he hath wronged me to thee? I thinkit, for I left him with thee; thou sawest how my presence stung him;since then thou hast not admitted me. Believe nothing that he can say tomy disfavor; if thou dost, tell me so at once; for this Ione owes toGlaucus. Farewell! this letter touches thy hand; these characters meetthine eyes--shall they be more blessed than he who is their author. Oncemore, farewell!'
It seemed to Ione, as she read this letter, as if a mist had fallen fromher eyes. What had been the supposed offence of Glaucus?--that he hadnot really loved! And now, plainly, and in no dubious terms, heconfessed that love. From that moment his power was fully restored. Atevery tender word in that letter, so full of romantic and trustfulpassion, her heart smote her. And had she doubted his faith, and hadshe believed another? and had she not, at least, allowed to him theculprit's right to know his crime, to plead in his defence?--the tearsrolled down her cheeks--she kissed the letter--she placed it in herbosom: and, turning to Nydia, who stood in the same place and in thesame posture:
'Wilt thou sit, my child,' said she, 'while I write an answer to thisletter?'
'You will answer it, then!' said Nydia, coldly. 'Well, the slave thataccompanied me will take back your answer.'
'For you,' said Ione, 'stay with me--trust me, your service shall belight.'
Nydia bowed her head.
'What is your name, fair girl?'
'They call me Nydia.'
'Your country?'
'The land of Olympus--Thessaly.'
'Thou shalt be to me a friend,' said Ione, caressingly, 'as thou artalready half a countrywoman. Meanwhile, I beseech thee, stand not onthese cold and glassy marbles. There! now that thou art seated, I canleave thee for an instant.'
'Ione to Glaucus greeting. Come to me, Glaucus,' wrote Ione, 'come tome to-morrow. I may have been unjust to thee; but I will tell thee, atleast, the fault that has been imputed to thy charge. Fear not,henceforth, the Egyptian--fear none. Thou sayest thou hast expressedtoo much--alas! in these hasty words I have already done so. Farewell.'
As Ione reappeared with the letter, which she did not dare to read aftershe had written (Ah! common rashness, common timidity of love!)--Nydiastarted from her seat.
'You have written to Glaucus?'
'I have.'
'And will he thank the messenger who gives to him thy letter?'
Ione forgot that her companion was blind; she blushed from the brow tothe neck, and remained silent.
'I mean this,' added Nydia, in a calmer tone; 'the lightest word ofcoldness from thee will sadden him--the lightest kindness will rejoice.If it be the first, let the slave take back thine answer; if it be thelast, let me--I will return this evening.'
'And why, Nydia,' asked Ione, evasively, 'Wouldst thou be
the bearer ofmy letter?'
'It is so, then!' said Nydia. 'Ah! how could it be otherwise; who couldbe unkind to Glaucus?'
'My child,' said Ione, a little more reservedly than before, 'thouspeakest warmly--Glaucus, then, is amiable in thine eyes?'
'Noble Ione! Glaucus has been that to me which neither fortune nor thegods have been--a friend!'
The sadness mingled with dignity with which Nydia uttered these simplewords, affected the beautiful Ione: she bent down and kissed her. 'Thouart grateful, and deservedly so; why should I blush to say that Glaucusis worthy of thy gratitude? Go, my Nydia--take to him thyself thisletter--but return again. If I am from home when thou returnest--asthis evening, perhaps, I shall be--thy chamber shall be prepared next myown. Nydia, I have no sister--wilt thou be one to me?' The Thessaliankissed the hand of Ione, and then said, with some embarrassment:
'One favor, fair Ione--may I dare to ask it?'
'Thou canst not ask what I will not grant,' replied the Neapolitan.
'They tell me,' said Nydia, 'that thou art beautiful beyond theloveliness of earth. Alas! I cannot see that which gladdens the world!Wilt thou suffer me, then, to pass my hand over thy face?--that is mysole criterion of beauty, and I usually guess aright.'
She did not wait for the answer of Ione, but, as she spoke, gently andslowly passed her hand over the bending and half-averted features of theGreek--features which but one image in the world can yet depicture andrecall--that image is the mutilated, but all-wondrous, statue in hernative city--her own Neapolis--that Parian face, before which all thebeauty of the Florentine Venus is poor and earthly--that aspect so fullof harmony--of youth--of genius--of the soul--which modern critics havesupposed the representation of Psyche.
Her touch lingered over the braided hair and polished brow--over thedowny and damask cheek--over the dimpled lip--the swan-like and whitishneck. 'I know now, that thou art beautiful,' she said: 'and I canpicture thee to my darkness henceforth, and for ever!'
When Nydia left her, Ione sank into a deep but delicious reverie.Glaucus then loved her; he owned it--yes, he loved her. She drew forthagain that dear confession; she paused over every word, she kissed everyline; she did not ask why he had been maligned, she only felt assuredthat he had been so. She wondered how she had ever believed a syllableagainst him; she wondered how the Egyptian had been enabled to exercisea power against Glaucus; she felt a chill creep over her as she againturned to his warning against Arbaces, and her secret fear of thatgloomy being darkened into awe. She was awakened from these thoughts byher maidens, who came to announce to her that the hour appointed tovisit Arbaces was arrived; she started, she had forgotten the promise.Her first impression was to renounce it; her second, was to laugh at herown fears of her eldest surviving friend. She hastened to add the usualornaments to her dress, and doubtful whether she should yet question theEgyptian more closely with respect to his accusation of Glaucus, orwhether she should wait till, without citing the authority, she shouldinsinuate to Glaucus the accusation itself, she took her way to thegloomy mansion of Arbaces.
The Last Days of Pompeii Page 14