Complete Works of Henryk Sienkiewicz

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

  Meanwhile the sun, growing larger, ruddier, sank slowly behind the tops of the grove; the guests were for the greater part thoroughly intoxicated. The raft circled now nearer the shore, on which, among bunches of trees and flowers, were seen groups of people, disguised as fauns or satyrs, playing on flutes, bagpipes, and drums, with groups of maidens representing nymphs, dryads, and hamadryads. Darkness fell at last amid drunken shouts from the tent, shouts raised in honor of Luna. Meanwhile the groves were lighted with a thousand lamps. From the lupanaria on the shores shone swarms of lights; on the terraces appeared new naked groups, formed of the wives and daughters of the first Roman houses. These with voice and unrestrained manner began to lure partners. The raft touched the shore at last. Cæsar and the Augustians vanished in the groves, scattered in lupanaria, in tents hidden in thickets, in grottos artificially arranged among fountains and springs. Madness seized all; no one knew whither Cæsar had gone; no one knew who was a senator, who a knight, who a dancer, who a musician. Satyrs and fauns fell to chasing nymphs with shouting. They struck lamps with thyrses to quench them. Darkness covered certain parts of the grove. Everywhere, however, laughter and shouts were heard, and whispers, and panting breaths. In fact Rome had not seen anything like that before.

  Vinicius was not drunk, as he had been at the feast in Nero’s palace, when Lygia was present; but he was roused and intoxicated by the sight of everything done round about, and at last the fever of pleasure seized him. Rushing into the forest, he ran, with others, examining who of the dryads seemed most beautiful. New flocks of these raced around him every moment with shouts and with songs; these flocks were pursued by fauns, satyrs, senators, knights, and by sounds of music. Seeing at last a band of maidens led by one arrayed as Diana, he sprang to it, intending to examine the goddess more closely. All at once the heart sank in his bosom, for he thought that in that goddess, with the moon on her forehead, he recognized Lygia.

  They encircled him with a mad whirl, and, wishing evidently to incline him to follow, rushed away the next moment like a herd of deer. But he stood on the spot with beating heart, breathless; for though he saw that the Diana was not Lygia, and that at close sight she was not even like her, the too powerful impression deprived him of strength. Straightway he was seized by such yearning as he had never felt before, and love for Lygia rushed to his breast in a new, immense wave. Never had she seemed so dear, pure, and beloved as in that forest of madness and frenzied excess. A moment before, he himself wished to drink of that cup, and share in that shameless letting loose of the senses; now disgust and repugnance possessed him. He felt that infamy was stifling him; that his breast needed air and the stars which were hidden by the thickets of that dreadful grove. He determined to flee; but barely had he moved when before him stood some veiled figure, which placed its hands on his shoulders and whispered, flooding his face with burning breath, “I love thee! Come! no one will see us, hasten!”

  Vinicius was roused, as if from a dream.

  “Who art thou?”

  But she leaned her breast on him and insisted,— “Hurry! See how lonely it is here, and I love thee! Come!”

  “Who art thou?” repeated Vinicius.

  “Guess!”

  As she said this, she pressed her lips to his through the veil, drawing toward her his head at the same time, till at last breath failed the woman and she tore her face from him.

  “Night of love! night of madness!” said she, catching the air quickly. “Today is free! Thou hast me!”

  But that kiss burned Vinicius; it filled him with disquiet. His soul and heart were elsewhere; in the whole world nothing existed for him except Lygia. So, pushing back the veiled figure, he said, —

  “Whoever thou be, I love another, I do not wish thee.”

  “Remove the veil,” said she, lowering her head toward him.

  At that moment the leaves of the nearest myrtle began to rustle; the veiled woman vanished like a dream vision, but from a distance her laugh was heard, strange in some way, and ominous.

  Petronius stood before Vinicius.

  “I have heard and seen,” said he.

  “Let us go from this place,” replied Vinicius.

  And they went. They passed the lupanaria gleaming with light, the grove, the line of mounted pretorians, and found the litters.

  “I will go with thee,” said Petronius.

  They sat down together. On the road both were silent, and only in the atrium of Vinicius’s house did Petronius ask,— “Dost thou know who that was?”

  “Was it Rubria?” asked Vinicius, repulsed at the very thought that Rubria was a vestal.

  “No.”

  “Who then?”

  Petronius lowered his voice. “The fire of Vesta was defiled, for Rubria was with Cæsar. But with thee was speaking” — and he finished in a still lower voice, “the divine Augusta.”

  A moment of silence followed.

  “Cæsar,” said Petronius, “was unable to hide from Poppæa his desire for Rubria; therefore she wished, perhaps, to avenge herself. But I hindered you both. Hadst thou recognized the Augusta and refused her, thou wouldst have been ruined beyond rescue, — thou, Lygia, and I, perhaps.”

  “I have enough of Rome, Cæsar, feasts, the Augusta, Tigellinus, and all of you!” burst out Vinicius. “I am stifling. I cannot live thus; I cannot. Dost understand me?”

  “Vinicius, thou art losing sense, judgment, moderation.”

  “I love only her in this world.”

  “What of that?”

  “This, that I wish no other love. I have no wish for your life, your feasts, your shamelessness, your crimes!”

  “What is taking place in thee? Art thou a Christian?”

  The young man seized his head with both hands, and repeated, as if in despair,— “Not yet! not yet!”

  Chapter XXXII

  PETRONIUS went home shrugging his shoulders and greatly dissatisfied. It was evident to him that he and Vinicius had ceased to understand each other, that their souls had separated entirely. Once Petronius had immense influence over the young soldier. He had been for him a model in everything, and frequently a few ironical words of his sufficed to restrain Vinicius or urge him to something. At present there remained nothing of that; such was the change that Petronius did not try his former methods, feeling that his wit and irony would slip without effect along the new principles which love and contact with the uncomprehended society of Christians had put in the soul of Vinicius. The veteran sceptic understood that he had lost the key to that soul. This knowledge filled him with dissatisfaction and even with fear, which was heightened by the events of that night. “If on the part of the Augusta it is not a passing whim but a more enduring desire,” thought Petronius, “one of two things will happen, — either Vinicius will not resist her, and he may be ruined by any accident, or, what is like him to-day, he will resist, and in that event he will be ruined certainly, and perhaps I with him, even because I am his relative, and because the Augusta, having included a whole family in her hatred, will throw the weight of her influence on the side of Tigellinus. In this way and that it is bad.” Petronius was a man of courage and felt no dread of death; but since he hoped nothing from it, he had no wish to invite it. After long meditation, he decided at last that it would be better and safer to send Vinicius from Rome on a journey. Ah! but if in addition he could give him Lygia for the road, he would do so with pleasure. But he hoped that it would not be too difficult to persuade him to the journey without her. He would spread a report on the Palatine then of Vinicius’s illness, and remove danger as well from his nephew as himself. The Augusta did not know whether she was recognized by Vinicius; she might suppose that she was not, hence her vanity had not suffered much so far. But it might be different in the future, and it was necessary to avoid peril. Petronius wished to gain time, above all; for he understood that once Cæsar set out for Achæa, Tigellinus, who comprehended nothing in the domain of art, would descend to the second place and lose his influe
nce. In Greece Petronius was sure of victory over every opponent.

  Meanwhile he determined to watch over Vinicius, and urge him to the journey. For a number of days he was ever thinking over this, that if he obtained an edict from Cæsar expelling the Christians from Rome, Lygia would leave it with the other confessors of Christ, and after her Vinicius too. Then there would be no need to persuade him. The thing itself was possible. In fact it was not so long since, when the Jews began disturbances out of hatred to the Christians, Claudius, unable to distinguish one from the other, expelled the Jews. Why should not Nero expel the Christians? There would be more room in Rome without them. After that “floating feast” Petronius saw Nero daily, both on the Palatine and in other houses. To suggest such an idea was easy, for Nero never opposed suggestions which brought harm or ruin to any one. After mature decision Petronius framed a whole plan for himself. He would prepare a feast in his own house, and at this feast persuade Cæsar to issue an edict. He had even a hope, which was not barren, that Cæsar would confide the execution of the edict to him. He would send out Lygia with all the consideration proper to the mistress of Vinicius to Baiæ, for instance, and let them love and amuse themselves there with Christianity as much as they liked.

  Meanwhile he visited Vinicius frequently, first, because he could not, despite all his Roman selfishness, rid himself of attachment to the young tribune, and second, because he wished to persuade him to the journey. Vinicius feigned sickness, and did not show himself on the Palatine, where new plans appeared every day. At last Petronius heard from Cæsar’s own lips that three days from then he would go to Antium without fail. Next morning he went straightway to inform Vinicius, who showed him a list of persons invited to Antium, which list one of Cæsar’s freedmen had brought him that morning.

  “My name is on it; so is thine,” said he. “Thou wilt find the same at thy house on returning.”

  “Were I not among the invited,” replied Petronius, “it would mean that I must die; I do not expect that to happen before the journey to Achæa. I shall be too useful to Nero. Barely have we come to Rome,” said he, on looking at the list, “when we must leave again, and drag over the road to Antium. But we must go, for this is not merely an invitation, it is a command as well.”

  “And if some one would not obey?”

  “He would be invited in another style to go on a journey notably longer, — one from which people do not return. What a pity that thou hast not obeyed my counsel and left Rome in season! Now thou must go to Antium.”

  “I must go to Antium. See in what times we live and what vile slaves we are!”

  “Hast thou noticed that only to-day?”

  “No. But thou hast explained to me that Christian teaching is an enemy of life, since it shackles it. But can their shackles be stronger than those which we carry? Thou hast said, ‘Greece created wisdom and beauty, and Rome power.’ Where is our power?”

  “Call Chilo and talk with him. I have no desire to-day to philosophize. By Hercules! I did not create these times, and I do not answer for them. Let us speak of Antium. Know that great danger is awaiting thee, and it would be better, perhaps, to measure strength with that Ursus who choked Croton than to go there, but still thou canst not refuse.”

  Vinicius waved his hand carelessly, and said,— “Danger! We are all wandering in the shadow of death, and every moment some head sinks in its darkness.”

  “Am I to enumerate all who had a little sense, and therefore, in spite of the times of Tiberius, Caligula, Claudius, and Nero, lived eighty and ninety years? Let even such a man as Domitius Afer serve thee as an example. He has grown old quietly, though all his life he has been a criminal and a villain.”

  “Perhaps for that very reason!” answered Vinicius.

  Then he began to glance over the list and read: “Tigellinus, Vatinius, Sextus Africanus, Aquilinus Regulus, Suilius Nerulinus, Eprius Marcellus, and so on! What an assembly of ruffians and scoundrels! And to say that they govern the world! Would it not become them better to exhibit an Egyptian or Syrian divinity through villages, jingle sistra, and earn their bread by telling fortunes or dancing?”

  “Or exhibiting learned monkeys, calculating dogs, or a flute-playing ass,” added Petronius. “That is true, but let us speak of something more important. Summon thy attention and listen. I have said on the Palatine that thou art ill, unable to leave the house; still thy name is on the list, which proves that some one does not credit my stories and has seen to this purposely. Nero cares nothing for the matter, since for him thou art a soldier, who has no conception of poetry or music, and with whom at the very highest he can talk only about races in the circus. So Poppæa must have seen to putting down thy name, which means that her desire for thee was not a passing whim, and that she wants to win thee.”

  “She is a daring Augusta.”

  “Indeed she is daring, for she may ruin herself beyond redemption. May Venus inspire her, however, with another love as soon as possible; but since she desires thee thou must observe the very greatest caution. She has begun to weary Bronzebeard already; he prefers Rubria now, or Pythagoras, but, through consideration of self, he would wreak the most horrible vengeance on us.”

  “In the grove I knew not that she was speaking to me; but thou wert listening. I said that I loved another, and did not wish her. Thou knowest that.”

  “I implore thee, by all the infernal gods, lose not the remnant of reason which the Christians have left in thee. How is it possible to hesitate, having a choice between probable and certain destruction? Have I not said already that if thou hadst wounded the Augusta’s vanity, there would have been no rescue for thee? By Hades! if life has grown hateful to thee, better open thy veins at once, or cast thyself on a sword, for shouldst thou offend Poppæa, a less easy death may meet thee. It was easier once to converse with thee. What concerns thee specially? Would this affair cause thee loss, or hinder thee from loving thy Lygia? Remember, besides, that Poppæa saw her on the Palatine. It will not be difficult for her to guess why thou art rejecting such lofty favor, and she will get Lygia even from under the earth. Thou wilt ruin not only thyself, but Lygia too. Dost understand?”

  Vinicius listened as if thinking of something else, and at last he said, —

  “I must see her.”

  “Who? Lygia?”

  “Lygia.”

  “Dost thou know where she is?”

  “No.”

  “Then thou wilt begin anew to search for her in old cemeteries and beyond the Tiber?”

  “I know not, but I must see her.”

  “Well, though she is a Christian, it may turn out that she has more judgment than thou; and it will certainly, unless she wishes thy ruin.”

  Vinicius shrugged his shoulders. “She saved me from the hands of Ursus.”

  “Then hurry, for Bronzebeard will not postpone his departure. Sentences of death may be issued in Antium also.”

  But Vinicius did not hear. One thought alone occupied him, an interview with Lygia; hence he began to think over methods.

  Meanwhile something intervened which might set aside every difficulty. Chilo came to his house unexpectedly.

  He entered wretched and worn, with signs of hunger on his face and in rags; but the servants, who had the former command to admit him at all hours of the day or night, did not dare to detain him, so he went straight to the atrium, and standing before Vinicius said,— “May the gods give thee immortality, and share with thee dominion over the world.”

  Vinicius at the first moment wished to give the order to throw him out of doors; but the thought came to him that the Greek perhaps knew something of Lygia, and curiosity overcame his disgust.

  “Is that thou?” asked he. “What has happened to thee?”

  “Evil, O son of Jove,” answered Chilo. “Real virtue is a ware for which no one inquires now, and a genuine sage must be glad of this even, that once in five days he has something with which to buy from the butcher a sheep’s head, to gnaw in a garret, wa
shing it down with his tears. Ah, lord! What thou didst give me I paid Atractus for books, and afterward I was robbed and ruined. The slave who was to write down my wisdom fled, taking the remnant of what thy generosity bestowed on me. I am in misery, but I thought to myself: To whom can I go, if not to thee, O Serapis, whom I love and deify, for whom I have exposed my life?”

  “Why hast thou come, and what dost thou bring?”

  “I come for aid, O Baal, and I bring my misery, my tears, my love, and finally the information which through love for thee I have collected. Thou rememberest, lord, I told thee once how I had given a slave of the divine Petronius one thread from the girdle of the Paphian Venus? I know now that it helped her, and thou, O descendant of the Sun, who knowest what is happening in that house, knowest also what Eunice is there. I have another such thread. I have preserved it for thee, lord.”

  Here he stopped, on noticing the anger which was gathering on the brows of Vinicius, and said quickly, so as to anticipate the outburst, —

  “I know where the divine Lygia is living; I will show thee the street and the house.”

  Vinicius repressed the emotion with which that news filled him, and said,— “Where is she?”

  “With Linus, the elder priest of the Christians. She is there with Ursus, who goes as before to the miller, a namesake of thy dispensator Demas. Yes, Demas! Ursus works in the night; so if thou surround the house at night, thou wilt not find him. Linus is old, and besides him there are only two aged women in the house.”

  “Whence dost thou know all this?”

  “Thou rememberest, lord, that the Christians had me in their hands, and spared me. True, Glaucus was mistaken in thinking that I was the cause of his misfortunes; but he believed that I was, poor man, and he believes so yet. Still they spared me. Then be not astonished, lord, that gratitude filled my heart. I am a man of former, of better times. This was my thought: Am I to desert friends and benefactors? Would I not have been hard-hearted not to inquire about them, not to learn what was happening to them, how health was serving them, and where they were living? By the Pessinian Cybele! I am not capable of such conduct. At first I was restrained by fear that they might interpret my wishes incorrectly. But the love which I bore them proved greater than my fear, and the ease with which they forgive every injustice lent me special courage. But above all I was thinking of thee, lord. Our last attempt ended in defeat; but can such a son of Fortune be reconciled with defeat? So I prepared victory for thee. The house stands apart. Thou mayst give command to thy slaves to surround it so that not a mouse could escape. My lord, on thee alone it depends to have that magnanimous king’s daughter in thy house this very night. But should that happen, remember that the cause of it is the very poor and hungry son of my father.”