Neæra: A Tale of Ancient Rome

by Joel Chandler Harris

  CHAPTER IV.

  Escaping from the throng into privacy with his recovered child, Fabriciuspoured out upon her all the endearments of a nature transported with joyand thankfulness. His fervent warmth, and almost childish delight, touchedNeaera very deeply, but yet it was impossible for her to respond as freely.She was still the humble cottage girl, and the stranger patrician awed hersomewhat. In addition to this, the rapid bewildering occurrences anddisclosures of the afternoon had left her in a state of confusion. Sheseemed to exist in the midst of a strange dream, and her labouringthoughts were dogged by unbelief.

  All perplexities vanished for the time at the sudden appearance of herlover within the room. He came, not with the haggard look and theattendant guard of a desponding prisoner, but free, alone, and smiling.With a low cry she sprang toward him and was clasped in his arms. Here, atleast, was no place for doubt; and, on his breast, she peacefully weptaway all the darkness and misery which had loaded her mind so grievouslyduring the last terrible days.

  'You are sadly pale and thin,' he murmured, as he touched her cheekcaressingly, after the first moments of her emotion had passed away. 'Havethey not treated you well?'

  'Quite well.'

  'The gods be praised--it is more than I once looked for,' he saidfervently.

  'But all is well now, and you are free,' she said, looking up into hisface, and smiling through her glittering tears. 'Shall we not go soon fromthis place?'

  'You, doubtless, my sweet; your duty lies with your grandsire. Does she goback to Rome with you, Fabricius?'

  'Ay truly,' answered the old man, who was watching them with infinitesatisfaction, 'and you also.'

  'Ah, if I knew it were so!'

  'Then rest assured--it is the will of Tiberius.'

  'Then if this sweet girl's will be in unison with Caesar's I will notstrive against my fate--I await her decree.'

  'What Caesar commands I cannot forbid, and must fain put up with,' saidshe demurely.

  'Then I will go; but circumstances are altered since I last saw thee. Youhave been transformed from the poor potter's girl. Once you had scruplesin matching with one out of your own station. Do you still keep them? Willyou now stoop to a poor Pretorian?'

  'You took great labour to remove the scruples I had then--would you nowbring them back again?' she said.

  'Yes, if I might plant them in myself for you to charm away--it would be atask I could never weary of.'

  'But I should--so let us not begin,' she replied, with a divine smile.

  'What is all this muttering between you?' cried Fabricius, growingimpatient.

  'I am asking her if she thinks as kindly of me now that she is changedfrom the potter's child into the granddaughter of Fabricius,' repliedMartialis.

  'Well, and what says she to that? Come, child, let us hear your sweetnotes,' said Fabricius; 'he that bearded Caesar in his own hall for yoursake is worthy of some reward.'

  'I have already given him all I have to give,' she said, smiling andblushing upon her lover.

  'What in the world can better it, my sweet Neaera?' responded Lucius with afervent kiss.

  'Neaera no longer, but Aurelia,' cried Fabricius.

  'Neaera she must ever be to me,' said Lucius.

  * * * * * * *

  Here we will leave Martialis in his prime, with the crown of his life inthe person of a beloved wife and noble offspring. One of his sons, namedafter himself, was a man of learning and taste, and is immortalised in theletters of his friend and namesake, the great Roman epigrammist. We cannotrefrain from concluding with that epistle of the latter which relates tothe mansion of old Fabricius, and we present it in a well-knowntranslation:----

  'On the long ridge of the Janiculan Hill lie the few acres belonging to Julius Martialis; land more blessed than the gardens of the Hesperides. Secluded retreats are spread over the hills, and the smooth summit, with gentle undulations, enjoys a cloudless sky; and while a mist covers the hollow valleys, shines conspicuous in a light all its own. The graceful turrets of a lofty villa rise gently toward the stars. Hence you may see the seven hills, rulers of the world, and contemplate the whole extent of Rome, as well as the heights of Alba and Tusculum, and every cool retreat that lies in the suburbs, with old Fidenae and little Rubra, and the fruit-bearing grove of Anna Perenna, which delights in virgins' blood. Thence may be seen the traveller on the Flaminian and Salarian roads, while his carriage is unheard, so that its wheels are no interruption to gentle sleep; neither is it broken by the cry of the boatswain or the noise of hawsers, although the Mulvian bridge is near, and ships are seen gliding swiftly along the sacred Tiber. This country box, or rather mansion, is rendered additionally agreeable by the welcome of its owner. You will imagine it to be your own; so ungrudgingly, so liberally is it thrown open to you, and with such refined hospitality.... You now who think all these attractions insignificant, cultivate, with a hundred spades, cool Tibur or Praeneste, and give the slopes of Setia to one single husbandman, whilst I, for my part, prefer to all your possessions the few acres of Julius Martialis.'

  THE END.

  _Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, _Edinburgh_.