by Georg Ebers
CHAPTER XIII.
The night had been almost as sleepless to Keraunus' daughter Selene asit had been to the hapless slave. Her father's vain wish to let Arsinoetake a part with the daughters of the wealthier citizens had filledthe girl's heart with fresh terrors. It was the final blow which woulddemolish the structure of their social existence, standing as it didon quaking ground, and which must fling her family and herself intodisgrace and want. When their last treasure of any value was sold,and the creditors could no longer be put off, particularly during theEmperor's presence in the city, when they should try to sell up all herfather's little property, or to carry him off to a debtor's prison, wasit not then as good as certain that some one else would be appointedto fill his place, and that she and the other children would fall intomisery? And there lay Arsinoe by her side, and slept with as calm anddeep a breath as blind Helios and the other little ones.
Before going to bed she had tried with all the fervency and eloquence ofwhich she was mistress, to persuade, entreat, and implore the heedlessgirl to refuse as positively as she herself had refused to take any partin the processions; but Arsinoe had at first repulsed her crossly,and finally had defiantly declared that means might yet very likelybe found, and that what her father permitted, Selene had no right tointerfere in, still less to forbid. And when afterwards she saw Arsinoesleeping so calmly by her side, she felt as if she would like to shakeher; but she was so accustomed to bear all the troubles of the familyalone, and to be unkindly repelled by her sister whenever she attemptedto admonish her, that she forbore.
Arsinoe had a good and tender heart, but she was young, pretty, andvain. With affectionate persuasion she might be won over to anything,but Selene, when ever she remonstrated with her, made her feel hersuperiority over herself, acquired from her care of the family and hermaternal character. Thus, not a day passed without some quarrelling andtears between these two sisters who were so dissimilar, and yet, bothso well disposed. Arsinoe was always the first to offer her hand for areconciliation, but Selene would rarely have a kinder answer ready toher affectionate advances than, "Let be," or "Oh yes, I know!" and theiroutward intercourse bore an aspect of coolness, which was easily workedup to an outbreak of hostile speeches. Hundreds of times they would goto bed without wishing each other 'good-night,' and still more oftenwould they avoid any morning greeting when they first met in the day.
Arsinoe liked talking, but in Selene's presence she was taciturn;there were few things in which Selene took pleasure, while her sisterdelighted in every thing which can charm youth. It was the steward'seldest daughter who attended to the daily needs of the children, theirfood and clothes; it was the second who superintended their games,and their dolls. The eldest watched and taught them with anxious care,detecting in every little fault the germ of some evil tendency in thefuture, while the other enticed them into follies, it is true, butopened their minds to joyous impressions, and attained more by kissesand kind words than Selene could by fault-finding. The children wouldcall Selene when they wanted her, but would fly to Arsinoe as soon asthey saw her. Their hearts were hers, and Selene felt this bitterly; itseemed to her to be unjust, for she saw clearly that her sister couldreap, from mere frivolous play in her idle hours, a sweeter reward thanshe could earn by the anxiety, trouble and exhausting toil, in which sheoften spent her nights.
But children are not unjust in this way. It is true that they keep anaccount in their heart and not in their head. Those who give them thewarmth of affection they pay back most honestly.
On this particular night it was not, it is certain, with very sisterlyfeelings that Selene looked at the sleeping Arsinoe, and the words onthe girl's lips as she had dropped asleep, had sounded very unkind;but, nevertheless, they felt warmly towards each other, and any one whoshould have attempted to say a word against the one in the presence ofthe other would soon have found out how close a bond held together thesetwo hearts, dissimilar as they were. But no girl of nineteen can pass anight altogether without sleeping, however sadly she may turn and turnover and over again in her bed. So slumber overmastered Selene everynow and then for a quarter of an hour, and each time she dreamed of hersister.
Once she saw Arsinoe dressed out like a queen, followed by beggarchildren and pelted with bad words--then she saw her on the rotundabelow the balcony romping with Pollux, and in their bold sport theybroke her mother's bust. At last she dreamed that she herself wasplaying--as in the days of her childhood--in the gate-keeper's gardenwith the sculptor. They were making cakes of sand together, and Arsinoejumped on the cakes as soon as they were made, and trod them all intodust.
The pretty pale girl had for a long time ceased to know the refreshing,dreamless, sound sleep of youth, for the sweetest slumbers are more aptto seek out those who by day have some rest, than those who are wornout by fatigue, and evening after evening Selene was one of these. Everynight she had dreams, but tonight they were almost exclusively sad incharacter, and so terrifying that she woke herself repeatedly with herown groaning, or disturbed Arsinoe's peaceful sleep by loud cries.
These cries did not disturb her father, he--to-night, as everynight--had begun to snore soon after he had gone to rest, never to ceasetill it was time to rise again.
Selene was always busy in the house before any one, even before theslaves; and the approach of day this time seemed to the sleepless girla real release. When she rose it was still perfectly dark, but she knewthat the rising of the December sun could not be long to wait for.
Without paying any heed to the sleepers, or making any special effort totread noiselessly, or to do what she had to do without disturbing them,she lighted her little lamp, at the night-lamp, washed herself, arrangedher hair, and then knocked at the doors of the old slaves.
As soon as they had yawned out "directly," or a sleepy "very well," shewent into her father's room and took his jug to fetch him fresh water init. The best well in the palace was on a small terrace on the westside; it was supplied by the city aqueducts, and was constructed of fivemarble monsters, bearing up on twisted fishtails a huge shell, in whichsat a bearded river-god. Their horse-shaped heads poured water into avast basin, which, in the lapse of centuries, had grown full of a greenand filmy vegetation.
In order to reach this fountain, Selene had to go along the corridorwhere lay the rooms occupied by the Emperor and his followers. She onlyknew that an architect from Rome had taken up his quarters at Lochias,for, some time after midnight, she had been to get out meat and saltfor him, but in what rooms the strangers had been lodged no one had toldher. But this morning as she followed the path she was accustomed totread day by day at the same hour, she felt an anxious shiver. She feltas if everything were not quite the same as usual, and just as she hadset her foot on the cop step of the flight leading to the corridor, sheraised her lamp to discover whence came the sound she thought shecould hear, she perceived in the gloom a fearful something which as sheapproached it resembled a dog, and which was larger--much larger--than adog should be.
Her blood ran cold with terror; for a few moments she stood as ifspellbound, and was only conscious that the growling and snarling thatshe heard meant mischief and threatening to herself. At last she foundstrength to turn to fly, but at the same instant a loud and furious barkechoed behind her and she heard the monster's quick leaps as he flewafter her along the stone pavement.
She felt a violent shock, the pitcher flew out of her hand and wasshattered into a thousand fragments, and she sank to the ground underthe weight of a warm, rough, heavy mass. Her loud cries of alarmresounded from the hard bare walls, and roused the sleepers and broughtthem to her side.
"See what it is," cried Hadrian to his slave, who had immediately sprungup and seized his shield and sword.
"The dog has attacked a woman who wanted to come this way," repliedMastor.
"Hold him off, but do not beat him," the Emperor shouted after him."Argus has only done his duty." The slave hastened down the passage asfast as possible, loudly calling the dog by his n
ame. But anotherhad been beforehand and had dragged him off his victim, and this wasAntinous, whose room was close to the scene of action, and who, as soonas he had heard the dog's bark and Selene's scream, had hurried to holdback the brute which was really dangerous when on guard and in the dark.
When Mastor appeared the lad had just succeeded in dragging the dog awayfrom Selene, who was lying on the stairs leading to the corridor. BeforeAntinous could reach her Argus was standing over her gnashing his teethand growling. Argus, who was quickly quieted by his friends' tone ofkindly admonition, stood aside silent and with his head down whileAntinous knelt by the senseless girl on whom the pale light of earlydawn fell through--wide window. The boy looked with alarm on her paleface, lifted her helpless arm, and sought on her light-colored dress forany trace of blood that might have been drawn, but in vain. After hehad assured himself that she still breathed, and that her lips moved, hecalled to Mastor:
"Argus seems only to have pulled her down, not to have wounded her; shehas lost consciousness however. Go quickly into my room and bring me theblue phial out of my medicine-case and a cup of water."
The slave whistled to the hound and obeyed the order as quickly aspossible.
Meanwhile Antinous remained on his knees by the senseless girl, andventured to raise her head with its long soft weight of hair. Howbeautiful were those marble-white, and nobly-cut features! How touchingdid the silent accent of pain that lay on her lips seem to him, and howhappy was the spoilt darling of the Emperor, who was loved by all whosaw him, to be able to be tender and helpful, unasked!
"Wake up, oh! wake up!" he cried to Selene--and when still she did notmove, he repeated more urgently and tenderly, "Pray, pray wake up."
But she did not hear him, and remained motionless even when, with aslight blush, he drew over her shoulder her peplum, which the dog hadtorn away. Now Mastor returned with the water and the blue phial, andgave them to the Bithynian. While Antinous laid the girl's head in hislap, the slave was hurrying away, saying: "Caesar called me."
The lad moistened Selene's forehead with the reviving fluid, made herinhale the strong essence which the phial contained, and cried againloud and earnestly, "Wake, wake."--And presently her lips parted,showing her small, white teeth, and then she slowly raised the lidswhich had veiled her eyes. With a deep sigh of relief he set the cup andthe phial on the ground so as to support her when she slowly began toraise herself; but, scarcely had he turned his face towards her, whenshe sprang up suddenly and violently, and flinging both her arms roundhis neck, cried out:
"Save me, Pollux, save me! The monster is devouring me." Antinous muchstartled, seized the girl's arms to release himself from their embrace,but, she had already freed him and sunk back on to the ground. The nextmoment she was shivering violently as if from an attack of fever; againshe threw up her hands, pressed them to her temples, and gazed withterror and bewilderment into the face that bent above her.
"What is it? Who are you?" she asked, in a low voice.
He rose quickly, and while he supported her as she attempted to rise andstand upon her feet, he said:
"The gods be praised that you are still alive. Our big hound threw youdown-and he has terrible teeth." Selene was now standing up, and face toface with the boy at whose last words she shuddered again.
"Do, you feel any pain?" asked Antinous, anxiously.
"Yes," she said, dully.
"Did he bite you?"
"I think not--pick up that pin, it has fallen out of my dress."
The Bithynian obeyed her behest, and while the girl re-fastened herpeplum over her shoulders she asked him again:
"Who are you? How came the dog in our palace?"
"He belongs--he belongs to us. We arrived late last night, and Pontiusput us--"
"Then you are with the architect from Rome?"
"Yes, but who are you?"
"Selene is my name, I am the daughter of the palace-steward."
"And who is Pollux, whom you were calling to help you when you recoveredyour senses?"
"What does that matter to you?"
Antinous colored, and answered in confusion:
"I was startled when you suddenly roused up, with his name so loudly onyour lips, when I brought you back to life with water and this essence."
"Well, I was roused--and now I can walk again. People who bring furiousdogs into a strange place, should know how to take better care ofthem. Tie the dog up safely, for the children--my little brothers andsisters--come this way when they want to go out. Thank you for yourhelp--and my pitcher?"
As she spoke she looked down on the remains of the pretty jar, which wasone her mother had particularly valued. When she saw the fragments lyingon the ground, she gave a deep sob, but she shed no tears. Then sheexclaimed angrily: "It is infamous!"
With these words she turned her back on Antinous and returned to herfather's room, using her left foot, however, with caution, for it wasvery painful.
The young Bithynian gazed in silence at Selene's tall, slight form, hefelt prompted to follow her, to say to her how very sorry he was for themischance that had befallen her, and that the hound belonged not to himbut to another man; but he dared not. Long after she had disappearedfrom sight he stood on the same spot. At last he collected his senses,and slowly went back to his room, where he sat on his couch with hiseyes fixed dreamily on the ground, till the Emperor's call roused himfrom his reverie.
Selene had hardly vouchsafed Antinous a glance. She was in pain notmerely in her left foot, but also in the back of her head where shefound there was a deep cut; but her thick hair had staunched the bloodthat flowed from the wound. She felt very tired, and the loss of herpretty jug, which must also be replaced by another, vexed her far morethan the beauty of the favorite had charmed her.
She slowly and wearily entered the sitting-room, where her father wasby this time waiting for her and his water. He was accustomed to have itregularly at the same hour, and as Selene was absent longer than usual,he could think of no better way of filling up the time than by grumblingand scolding to himself; when, at last, his daughter appeared on thethreshold, he at once perceived that she had no jug, and said crossly:
"And am I to have no water to-day?"
Selene shook her head, sank into a seat, and began to cry softly.
"What is the matter?" asked her father.
"The pitcher is broken," she said sadly.
"You should take better care of such expensive things," scolded herfather. "You are always complaining of want of money, and at the sametime you break half our belongings."
"I was thrown down," answered Selene, drying her eyes.
"Thrown down! by whom?" asked the steward, slowly rising.
"By the architect's big dog--the architect who came last night fromRome, and to whom we gave that meat and salt in the middle of the night.He slept here, at Lochias."
"And he set his clog on my child!" shouted Keraunus, with an angryglare.
"The hound was alone in the passage when I went there."
"Did it bite you?"
"No, but it pulled me down, and stood over me, and gnashed itsteeth--oh! it was horrible."
"The cursed, vagabond scoundrel!" growled the steward, "I will teach himhow to behave in a strange house!"
"Let him be," said Selene, as she saw her father about to don thesaffron cloak.
"What is done cannot be undone, and if quarrels and dissentions come ofit, it will make you ill."
"Vagabonds! impudent rascals! who fill my palace with quarrelsome curs,"muttered Keraunus without listening to his daughter, and as he settledthe folds of his pallium he growled "Arsinoe! why is it that girl neverhears me."
When she appeared he desired her to heat the irons to curl his hair.
"They are ready by the fire," answered Arsinoe. "Come into the kitchenwith me."
Keraunus followed her, and had his locks curled and scented, while hisyounger children stood round him waiting for the porridge which Seleneusually prepared for them
at this hour.
Keraunus responded to their morning greetings with nods as friendly asArsinoe's tongs, which held his head tightly by the hair, would allow.It was only the blind Helios, a pretty boy of six, that he drew to hisside and gave a kiss on his cheek. He loved this child, who, thoughdeprived of the noblest of the senses, was always merry and contented,with peculiar tenderness. Once he even laughed aloud when the childclung to his sister, as she brandished the tongs, and said:
"Father, do you know why I am sorry I cannot see?"
"Well?" said his father.
"Because I should so like to see you for once with the beautiful curlswhich Arsinoe makes with the irons." But the steward's mirth was checkedwhen his daughter, pausing in her labors, said half in jest, but half inearnest:
"Have you thought any more about the Emperor's arrival, father? Ismarten and dress you so fine every day--but to-day you ought to thinkof dressing me."
"We will see about it," said Keraunus evasively. "Do you know," saidArsinoe, after a short pause, as she twisted the last lock in thefreshly-heated tongs, "I thought it all over last night again. If wecannot succeed any way in scraping together the money for my dress, wecan still--"
"Well?"
"Even Selene can say nothing against it."
"Against what?"
"But, you will be angry!"
"Speak out."
"You pay taxes like the rest of the citizens."
"What has that to do with it?"
"Well then, we are justified in expecting something from the city."
"What for?"
"To pay for my dress for the festival which is got up for the Emperor,not by an individual, but by the citizens as a body. We could not acceptalone, but it is folly to refuse what a rich municipality offers. Thatis neither more nor less than making them a present."
"You be silent," cried Keraunus, really furious, and trying in vain toremember the argument with which, only yesterday, he had refused thesame suggestion. "Be silent, and wait till I begin to talk about suchmatters."
Arsinoe flung the tongs on the hearth with so much annoyance thatthey fell on the stone with a loud clatter; but her father quitted thekitchen and returned to the sitting-room. There he found Selene lying ona couch, and the old slave-woman, who had tied a wet handkerchief roundthe girl's head, pressing another to her bare left foot.
"Wounded!" cried Keraunus, and his eyes rolled slowly from right to leftand from left to right.
"Look at the swelling!" cried the old woman in broken Greek, raisingSelene's snow-white foot in her black hands for her father to see."Thousands of fine ladies have hands that are not so small. Poor, poorlittle foot," and as she spoke the old woman pressed it to her lips.
Selene pushed her aside, and said, turning to her father:
"The cut on my head is nothing to speak of, but the muscles and veinshere at the ancle are swelled and my leg hurts me rather when I tread.When the dog threw me down I must have hit it against the stone step."
"It is outrageous!" cried Keraunus, the blood again mounting to hishead, "only wait and I will show them what I think of their goings on."
"No, no," entreated Selene, "only beg them politely to shut up the dog,or to chain it, so that it may not hurt the children."
Her voice trembled with anxiety as she spoke the words, for the dread,which, she knew not why, had so long been tormenting her lest her fathershould lose his place, seemed to affect her more than ever to-day.
"What! civil words after what has now happened?" cried Keraunusindignantly, and as if something quite unheard of had been suggested tohim.
"Nay, nay, say what you mean," shrieked the old woman. "If such a thinghad occurred to your father he would have fallen on the strange builderwith a good thrashing."
"And his son Keraunus will not let him off," declared the steward,quitting the room without heeding Selene's entreaty not to let himselfbe provoked.
In the ante-chamber he found his old slave whom he ordered to takea stick and go before him to announce him to Pontius' guest, thearchitect, who was lodging in the rooms in the wing near the fountain.This was the elegant thing to do, and by this means the black slavewould meet the big dog before his master who held him and all dogs inthe utmost abhorrence. As he approached his destination he found himselfquite in the humor to speak his mind to the stranger who had come herewith a ferocious hound to tear the members of his family.