The Roman Traitor, Vol. 1

by Henry William Herbert

  CHAPTER XI.

  THE RELEASE.

  And, for that right is right, to follow right Were wisdom, in the scorn of consequence. TENNYSON. OENONE.

  Paullus Arvina sat alone in a small chamber of his own house. Books werebefore him, his favorites; the authors, whose words struck chords the mostkindred in his soul; but though his eye rested on the fair manuscripts, itwas evident that his mind was absent. The slender preparations for thefirst Roman meal were displayed temptingly on a board, not far from hiselbow; but they were all untouched. His hair was dishevelled; his facepale, either from watching or excitement; and his eye wild and haggard. Hewore a loose morning gown of colored linen, and his bare feet were thrustcarelessly into unmatched slippers.

  It was past noon already; nor, though his favorite freedman Thrasea hadwarned him several times of the lateness of the hour, had he shewn theleast willingness to exert himself, so far even as to dress his hair, orput on attire befitting the business of the day.

  It could not but be seen, at a glance, that he was ill at ease; and intruth he was much perturbed by what had passed on the preceding night, andvery anxious with regard to the future.

  Nor was it without ample cause that he was restless and disturbed; withinthe last three days he had by his own instability of purpose, andvacillating tastes and temper brought himself down from as enviable aposition as well can be imagined, to one as insecure, unfortunate, andperilous.

  That he had made to himself in Catiline an enemy, as deadly, aspersevering, as relentless as any man could have upon his track; an enemyagainst whom force and fraud would most likely be proved equallyunavailing, he entertained no doubt. But brave as he was, and fearless,both by principle and practice, he cared less for this, even while heconfessed to himself, that he must be on his guard now alway against bothopen violence and secret murder, than he did for the bitter feeling, thathe was distrusted; that he had brought himself into suspicion and ill-odorwith the great man, in whose eyes he would have given so much to standfairly, and whose good-will, and good opinion, but two little days before,he flattered himself that he had conciliated by his manly conduct.

  Again, when he thought of Julia, there was no balm to his heart, nounction to his wounded conscience! What if she knew not, nor suspectedanything of his disloyalty, did not he know it, feel it in every nerve?Did he not read tacit reproaches in every beam of her deep tranquil eye?Did he not fancy some allusion to it, in every tone of her low sweetvoice? Did he not tremble at every air of heaven, lest it should waft therumor of his infidelity to the chaste ears of her, whom alone he loved andhonored? Did he not know that one whisper of that disgraceful truth wouldbreak off, and forever, the dear hopes, on which all his future happinessdepended? And was it not most possible, most probable, that any momentmight reveal to her the fatal tidings?--The rage of Catiline, frustrated inhis foul designs, the revengeful jealousy of Lucia, the vigilance of thedistrustful consul, might each or all at any moment bring to light thatwhich he would have given all but life to bury in oblivion.

  For a long time he had sat musing deeply on the perils of his falseposition, but though he had taxed every energy, and strained every facultyto devise some means by which to extricate himself from the toils, intowhich he had so blindly rushed, he could think of no scheme, resolve uponno course of action, which should set him at liberty, as he had beenbefore his unlucky interview with the conspirator.

  At times he dreamed of casting himself at the feet of Cicero, andconfessing to that great and generous statesman all his temptations, allhis trials, all his errors; of linking himself heart and soul with thedetermined patriots, who were prepared to live or die with theconstitution, and the liberties of the republic; but the oath!--the awfulimprecation, by which he had bound himself, by which he had devoted allthat he loved to the Infernal Gods, recurred to his mind, and shook itwith an earth-quake's power. And he, the bold free thinker, the daring andunflinching soldier, bound hand and foot by a silly superstition,trembled--aye, trembled, and confessed to his secret soul that there wasone thing which he ought to do, yet dared not!

  Anon, maddened by the apparent hopelessness of ever being able to recur tothe straight road; of ever more regaining his own self-esteem, or therespect of virtuous citizens--forced, as he seemed to be, to play a neutralpart--the meanest of all parts--in the impending struggle--of ever gainingeminence or fame under the banners of the commonwealth; he dreamed ofgiving himself up, as fate appeared to have given him already up, to thedesigns of Catiline! He pictured to himself rank, station, power, wealth,to be won under the ensigns of revolt; and asked himself, as many aself-deluded slave of passion has asked himself before, if eminence,however won, be not glory; if success in the world's eyes be not fame, andrectitude and excellence.

  But patriotism, the old Roman virtue, clear and undying in the hardest andmost corrupt hearts, roused itself in him to do battle with the jugglingfiends tempting him to his ruin; and whenever patriotism half-defeatedappeared to yield the ground, the image of his Julia--his Julia, never tobe won by any indirection, never to be deceived by any sophistry, never tobe deluded into smiling for one moment on a traitor--rose clear andpalpable before him and the mists were dispersed instantly, and the foesof his better judgment scattered to the winds and routed.

  Thus wavering, he sat, infirm of purpose, ungoverned--whence indeed all hiserrors--by any principle or unity of action; when suddenly the sound of afaint and hesitating knock of the bronze ring on the outer door reachedhis ear. The chamber, which he occupied, was far removed from thevestibule, divided from it by the whole length of the atrium, and fauces;yet so still was the interior of the house, and so inordinately sharpenedwas his sense of hearing by anxiety and apprehension, that he recognizedthe sound instantly, and started to his feet, fearing he knew not what.

  The footsteps of the slave, though he hurried to undo the door, seemed tothe eager listener as slow as the pace of the dull tortoise; and the shortpause, which followed after the door had been opened, he fancied to be anhour in duration. Long as he thought it, however, it was too short toenable him to conquer his agitation, or to control the tumultuous beatingof his heart, which increased to such a degree, as he heard the freedmanushering the new comer toward the room in which he was sitting, that hegrew very faint, and turned as pale as ashes.

  Had he been asked what it was that he apprehended, he could assuredly haveassigned no reasonable cause to his tremors. Yet this man was as brave, aselastic in temperament, as tried steel. Oppose him to any definite andreal peril, not a nerve in his frame would quiver; yet here he was, byimaginary terrors, and the disquietude of an uneasy conscience, reduced tomore than woman's weakness.

  The door was opened, and Thrasea appeared alone upon the threshold, with amysterious expression on his blunt features.

  "How now?" asked Paullus, "what is this?--Did I not tell you, that I wouldnot be disturbed this morning?"

  "Yes! master," answered the sturdy freedman; "but she said that it was amatter of great moment, and that she would--"

  "_She!_--Who?" exclaimed Arvina, starting up from the chair, which he hadresumed as his servant entered. "Whom do you mean by _She_?"

  "The girl who waits in the tablinum, to know if you will receive her."

  "The girl!--what girl? do you know her?"

  "No, master, she is very tall, and slender, yet round withal andbeautifully formed. Her steps are as light as the doe's upon the Haemus,and as graceful. She has the finest foot and ancle mine eyes ever lookedupon. I am sure too that her face is beautiful, though she is closelywrapped in a long white veil. Her voice, though exquisitely sweet andgentle, is full of a strange command, half proud and half persuasive. Icould not, for my life, resist her bidding."

  "Well! well! admit her, though I would fain be spared the trouble. I doubtnot it is some soft votary of Flora; and I am not in the vein for suchdalliance now."

  "No! Paullus, no! it is a Patrician lady. I will wager my freedom on it,although
she is dressed plainly, and, as I told you, closely veiled."

  "Not Julia? by the Gods! it is not Julia Serena?" exclaimed the young man,in tones of inquiry, blent with wonder.

  But, as he spoke, the door was opened once more; and the veiled figureentered, realizing by her appearance all the good freedman's eulogies. Itseemed that she had overheard the last words of Arvina; for, withoutraising her veil, she said in a soft low voice, full of melancholy pathos,

  "Alas! no, Paullus, it is not your Julia. But it is one, who has perhapssome claim to your attention; and who, at all events, will not detain youlong, on matters most important to yourself. I have intruded thus, fearingyou were about to deny me; because that which I have to say will brook nodenial."

  The freedman had withdrawn abruptly the very moment that the lady entered;and, closing the door firmly behind him, stood on guard out of earshot,lest any one should break upon his young lord's privacy. But Paullus knewnot this; scarce knew, indeed, that they were alone; when, as she ceased,he made two steps forward, exclaiming in a piercing voice--

  "Ye Gods! ye Gods! Lucia Orestilla!"

  "Aye! Paul," replied the girl, raising her veil, and showing her beautifulface, no longer burning with bright amorous blushes, her large soft eyes,no longer beaming unchaste invitation, but pale, and quiet, and suffusedwith tender sadness, "it is indeed Lucia. But wherefore this surprise, Imight say this terror? You were not, I remember, so averse, the last timewe were alone together."

  Her voice was steady, and her whole manner perfectly composed, as sheaddressed him. There was neither reproach nor irony in her tones, noranything that betokened even the sense of injury endured. Yet was Arvinamore unmanned by her serene and tranquil bearing, than he would have beenby the most violent reproaches.

  "Alas! alas! what shall I say to you," he faltered, "Lucia; Lucia, whom Idare not call mine."

  "Say nothing, Paullus Arvina," she replied, "thou art a noble and generoussoul?--Say nothing, for I know what thou would'st say. I have said it tomyself many times already. Oh! wo is me! too late! too late! But I havecome hither, now, upon a brief and a pleasant errand. For it _is_pleasant, let them scoff who will! I say, it _is_ pleasant to do right,let what may come of it. Would God, that I had always thought so!"

  "Would God, indeed!" answered the young man, "then had we not both beenwretched."

  "Wretched! aye! most, most wretched!" cried the girl, a large bright tearstanding in either eye. "And art thou wretched, Paullus."

  "Utterly wretched!" he said, with a deep groan, and buried his face for amoment in his hands. "Even before I looked upon you, thought of you, I wasmiserable! and now, now--words cannot paint my anguish, myself-degradation!"

  "Aye! is it so?" she said, a faint sad smile flitting across her pallidlips. "Why I should feel abased and self-degraded, I can well comprehend.I, who have fallen from the high estate, the purity, the wealth, theconsciousness of chaste and virtuous maidenhood! I, the despised, thecastaway, the fallen! But thou, thou!--from thee I looked but forreproaches--the just reproaches I have earned by my faithless folly! Ithought, indeed, to have found you wretched, writhing in the dark bondswhich I, most miserable, cast around you; and cursing her who fetteredyou!"

  "Cursing myself," he answered, "rather. Cursing my own insane and selfishpassion, which alone trammelled me, which alone ruined one, better andbrighter fifty fold than I!--alas! alas! Lucia."

  And forgetful of all that he had heard to her disparagement from her badfather's lips, or, if he half remembered discrediting all in that momentof excitement, he flung himself at her feet, and grovelled like a crushedworm on the floor, in the degrading consciousness of guilt.

  "Arise, arise for shame, young Arvina!" she said. "The ground, at awoman's feet, is no place for a man ever; least of all _such_ a woman's.Arise, and mark me, when I tell you that, which to tell you, only, I camehither. Arise, I say, and make me not scorn the man, whom I admire,whom--wo is me! I love."

  Paullus regained his feet slowly, and abashed; it seemed that all thepride and haughtiness of his character had given way at once. Mute andhumiliated, he sank into a chair, while she continued standing erect andself-sustained before him by conscious, though new, rectitude of purpose.

  "Mark me, I say, Arvina, when I tell you, that you are as free as air fromthe oath, with which I bound you. That wicked vow compels you only so longas I hold you pledged to its performance. Lo! it is nothing any more--forI, to whom alone of mortals you are bound, now and forever release you.The Gods, above and below, whom you called to witness it, are witnesses nomore against you. For I annul it here; I give you back your plight. It isas though it never had been spoken!"

  "Indeed? indeed? am I free?--Good, noble, generous, dear, Lucia, is ittrue? can it be? I am free, and at thy bidding?"

  "Free as the winds of heaven, Paullus, that come whence no man knoweth,and go whither they will soever, and no mortal hindereth them! As free asthe winds, Paullus," she repeated, "and I trust soon to be as happy."

  "But wherefore," added the young man, "have you done this? You said youwould release me _never_, and now all unsolicited you come and say 'youare free, Paullus,' almost before the breath is cold upon my lips thatswore obedience. This is most singular, and inconsistent."

  "What in the wide world _is_ consistent, Paullus, except virtue? Thatindeed is immutable, eternal, one, the same on earth as in heaven,present, and past, and forever. But what else, I beseech you, isconsistent, or here or anywhere, that you should dream of finding me, aweak wild wanton girl, of firmer stuff than heroes? Are you, even in yourown imagination, are you, I say, consistent?"

  She spoke eagerly, perhaps wildly; for the very part of self-denial, whichshe was playing, stirred her mind to its lowest depths; and the greatchange, which had been going on within for many hours, and was still inpowerful progress, excited her fancy, and kindled all her strongestfeelings; and, as is not unfrequently the case, all the profound vaguethoughts, which had so long lain mute and dormant, found light at once,and eloquent expression.

  Paullus gazed at her, in astonishment, almost in awe. Could this be thesensual, passionate voluptuary he had known two days since?--the strange,unprincipled, impulsive being, who yielded like the reed, to every gust ofpassion--this deep, clear, vigorous thinker! It was indeed a change topuzzle sager heads than that of Arvina! a transformation, sudden andbeautiful as that from the torpid earthy grub, to the swift-wingedetherial butterfly! He gazed at her, until she smiled in reply to his lookof bewilderment; and then he met her smile with a sad heavy sigh, andanswered--

  "Most inconsistent, I! alas! that I should say it, far worse thaninconsistent, most false to truth and virtue, most recreant to honor! Havenot I, whose most ardent aspirations were set on glory virtuously won,whose soul, as I fancied, was athirst for knowledge and for truth, havenot I bound myself by the most dire and dreadful oaths, to find my good inevil, my truth in a lie, my glory in black infamy?--Have not I, lovinganother better than my own life, won thee to love, poor Lucia, and wonthee by base falsehood to thy ruin?"

  "No! no!" she interrupted him, "this last thing you have not done, Arvina.Awake! you shall deceive yourself no longer! Of this last wrong you are asinnocent as the unspotted snow; and I, I only, own the guilt, as I shallbear the punishment! Hear first, why I release you from your oath; andthen, if you care to listen to a sad tale, you shall know by what infamyof others, one, who might else have been both innocent and happy, has beenmade infamous and foul and vile, and wretched; a thing hateful to herself,and loathsome to the world; a being with but one hope left, to expiate hermany crimes by one act of virtue, and then to die! to die young, veryyoung, unwept, unhonored, friendless, and an orphan--aye! from her verybirth, more than an orphan!"

  "Say on," replied the young man, "say on, Lucia; and would to heaven youcould convince me that I have not wronged you. Say on, then; first, if youwill, why you have released me; but above all, speak of yourself--speakfreely, and oh! if I can aid, or protect, or comfort you, believe m
e Iwill do it at my life's utmost peril."

  "I do believe you, Paullus. I did believe that, ere you spoke it. First,then, I set you free--and free you are henceforth, forever."

  "But wherefore?"

  "Because you are betrayed. Because I know all that fell out last night.Because I know darker villainy plotted against you, yet to come; villainyfrom which, tramelled by this oath, no earthly power can save you.Because, I know not altogether why or how, my mind has been changed oflate completely, and I will lend myself no more to projects, which Iloathe, and infamy which I abhor. Because--because--because, in a word, Ilove you Paullus! Better than all I have, or hope to have on earth."

  "But you must not," he replied, gravely yet tenderly, "because"----

  "You love another," she interrupted him, very quickly, "You love JuliaSerena, Hortensia's lovely daughter; and she loves you, and you are to bewedded soon. You see," she added, with a faint painful smile, "that I knoweverything about you. I knew it long since; long, long before I gavemyself to you; even before I loved you, Paul--for I have loved you, also,long!"

  "Loved me long!" he exclaimed, in astonishment, "how can that be, when younever saw me until the day before yesterday?"

  "Oh! yes I have," she answered sadly. "I have seen you and known you manyyears; though you have forgotten me, if even, which I doubt, you evernoticed me at all. But I can bring it to your mind. Have you forgottenhow, six summers since, as you were riding down the Collis Hortulorum, youpassed a little girl weeping by the wayside?--"

  "Over a wounded kid? No, I remember very well. A great country boor hadhurt it with a stone."

  "And you," exclaimed the girl, with her eyes flashing fire, "you sprangdown from your horse, and chastised him, till he whined like a beatenhound, though he was twice as big as you were; and then you bound up thekid's wound, and wiped away the tears--innocent tears they were--of thelittle girl, and parted her hair, and kissed her on the forehead. Thatlittle girl was I, and I have kept that kiss upon my brow, aye, and in myheart too! until now. No lips of man or woman have ever touched that spotwhich your lips hallowed. From that day forth I have loved you, I haveadored you, Paullus. From that day forth I have watched all your ways,unseen and unsuspected. I have seen you do fifty kind, and generous, andgallant actions; but never saw you do one base, or tyrannous, or cowardly,or cruel--"

  "Until that fatal night!" he said, with a deep groan. "May the Gods pardonme! I never shall forgive my self."

  "No! no! I tell you, no!" cried the girl, impetuously. "I tell you, that Iwas not deceived, if I fell; but I did not fall then! I knew that youloved Julia, years ago. I knew that I never could be yours in honor; andthat put fire and madness in my brain, and despair in my heart. And myhome was a hell, and those who should have been my guides and saviourswere my destroyers; and I am--_what I am_; but in that you had no share. Onthat night, I but obeyed the accursed bidding of the blackest and mostatrocious monster that pollutes Jove's pure air by his breath!"

  "Bidding," he exclaimed, starting back in horror, "Catiline's bidding?"

  "My father's," answered the miserable girl. "My own father's bidding!"

  "Ye gods! ye gods! His own daughter's purity!"

  "Purity!" she replied, with a smile of sad bitter irony. "Do you thinkpurity could long exist in the same house with Catiline and Orestilla?Paullus Arvina, the scenes I have beheld, the orgies I have shared, theatmosphere of voluptuous sin I have breathed, almost from my cradle, hadchanged the cold heart of the virgin huntress into the fiery pulses of thewanton Venus! Since I was ten years old, I have been, wo is me! familiarwith all luxury, all infamy, all degradation!"

  "Great Nemesis!" he cried, turning up his indignant eyes toward heaven."But, in the name of all the Gods! wherefore, wherefore? Even to theworst, the most debased of wretches, their children's honor is stilldear."

  "Nothing is dear to Catiline but riot, and debauchery, and murder! Sin,for its own sake, even more than for the rewards its offers to itsvotaries! Paullus, men called me beautiful! But what cared I for beauty,that charmed all but him, whom alone I desired to fascinate? Men called mebeautiful, I say! and in my father's sight that beauty became precious,when he foresaw that it might prove a means of winning followers to hisaccursed cause! Then was I educated in all arts, all graces, allaccomplishments that might enhance my charms; and, as those fatal charmscould avail him nothing, so long as purity remained or virtue, I wastaught, ah! too easily! to esteem pleasure the sole good, passion the onlyguide! Taught thus, by my own parents! Curses, curses, and shame uponthem! Pity me, pity me, Paullus. Oh! you are bound to pity me! for had Inot loved you, fatally, desperately loved, and known that I could not winyou, perchance--perchance I had not fallen. Oh! pity me, and pardon----"

  "Pardon you, Lucia," he interrupted her. "What have you done to me, or whoam I, that you should crave my pardon?"

  "What have I done? Do you ask in mockery? Have not I made you the partakerof my sin? Have not I lured you into falsehood, momentary falsehood it istrue, yet still falsehood, to your Julia? Have I not tangled you in thenets of this most foul conspiracy? Betrayed you, a bound slave, to themonster--the soul-destroyer?"

  Arvina groaned aloud, but made no answer, so deeply did his own thoughtsafflict, so terribly did her strong words oppress him.

  "But it is over--it is over now!" She exclaimed exultingly. "His reign ofwickedness is over! The tool, which he moulded for his own purposes, shallbe the instrument to quell him. The pitfall which he would have digged inthe way of others, shall be to them a door whereby they shall escape histreason, and his ruin. You are saved, my Arvina! By all the Gods! you aresaved! And, if it lost me once, it has preserved me now--my wild,unchangeable, and undying love for you, alone of men! For it has made methink! Has quenched the insane flames that burned within me! Has given menew views, new principles, new hopes! Evil no more shall be my good, norinfamy my pride! If, myself, I am most unhappy, I will live henceforth,while I do live, to make others happy! I will live henceforth for twothings--revenge and retribution! By all the Gods! Julia and you, myPaullus, shall be happy! By all the Gods! he who destroyed me for hispleasure, shall be destroyed in turn, for mine!"

  "Lucia! think! think! he is your father!"

  "Perish the monster! I have not--never had father, or home, or----Speak notto me; speak not of him, or I shall lose what poor remains of reason hisvile plots have left me. Perish!--by all the powers of hell, he shallperish, miserably!--miserably! And you, you, Paullus, must be the weaponthat shall strike him!"

  "Never the weapon in a daughter's hand to strike a father," answeredPaullus, "no! though he were himself a parricide!"

  "He is!--he is a parricide!--the parricide of Rome itself!--the murderer ofour common mother!--the sacrilegious stabber of his holy country! Hear me,and tremble! It lacks now two days of the Consular election. If Catilinego not down ere that day cometh, then Rome goes down, on that day, andforever?"

  "You are mad, girl, to say so."

  "You are mad, youth, if you discredit me. Do not I know? am not I thesharer? the tempter to the guilt myself? and am not I the mistress of itssecrets? Was it not for this, that I gave myself to you? was it not untothis that I bound you by the oath, which now I restore to you? was it notby this, that I would have held you my minion and my paramour? And is itnot to reveal this, that I now have come? I tell you, I discovered, how hewould yesternight have slain you by the gladiator's sword; discovered howhe now would slay you, by the perverted sword of Justice, as Medon's, asVolero's murderer; convicting you of his own crimes, as he hath many menbefore, by his suborned and perjured clients--his comrades on the Praetor'schair! I tell you, I discovered but just now, that me too he will cut offin the flower of my youth; in the heat of the passions, he fomented; inthe rankness of the soft sins, he taught me--cut me off--me, his own ruinedand polluted child--by the same poisoned chalice, which made his houseclear for my wretched mother's nuptials!"

  "Can these things be," cried Paullus, "and the Gods yet withhold theirt
hunder?"

  "Sometimes I think," the girl answered wildly, "that there are _no_ Gods,Paullus. Do you believe in Mars and Venus?"

  "In Gods, whose worship were adultery and murder?" said Arvina. "Not I,indeed, poor Lucia."

  "If these be Gods, there is no truth, no meaning in the name of virtue. Ifnot these, what is God?"

  "All things!" replied the young man solemnly. "Whatever moves, whatever_is_, is God. The universe is but the body, that clothes his eternalspirit; the winds are his breath; the sunshine is his smile; the gentledews are the tears of his compassion! Time is the creature of his hand,eternity his dwelling place, virtue his law, his oracles the soul of everyliving man!"

  "Beautiful," cried the girl. "Beautiful, if it were but true!"

  "It is true--as true, as the sun in heaven; as certain as his coursethrough the changeless seasons."

  "How? how?" she asked eagerly. "What makes it certain?"

  "The certainty of death!" he answered.

  "Ah! death, death! that is a mystery indeed. And after that--"

  "Everlasting life!"

  "Ha! do you believe that too? They tell me all that is a fable, a folly,and a falsehood!"

  "Perchance it would be well for them it were so."

  "Yes!" she replied. "Yes! But who taught you?"

  "Plato! Immortal Plato!"

  "Ha! I will read him; I will read Plato."

  "What! do you understand Greek too, Lucia?"

  "How else should I have sung Anacreon, and learned the Lesbian arts ofSappho? But we have strayed wide of our subject, and time presses. Willyou denounce, me, Catiline?"

  "Not I! I will perish sooner."

  "You will do so, and all Rome with you."

  "Prove that to me, and----But it is impossible."

  "Prove that to you, will you denounce him?"

  "I will save Rome!"

  "Will you denounce him?"

  "If otherwise, I may preserve my country, no."

  "Otherwise, you cannot. Speak! will you?"

  "I must know all."

  "You shall. Mark me, then judge." And rapidly, concisely, clearly, sherevealed to him the dread secret. She concealed nothing, neither the endsof the conspiracy, nor the names of the conspirators. She asseverated tohim the appalling fact, that half the noblest, eldest families of Rome,were either active members of the plot, sworn to spare no man, or secretwell-wishers, content at first to remain neutral, and then to share thespoils of empire. According to her shewing, the Curii, the Portii, theSyllae, the Cethegi, the great Cornelian house, the Vargunteii, theAutronii, and the Longini, were all for the most part implicated, althoughsome branches of the Portian and Cornelian houses had not been yetapproached by the seducers. Crassus, she told him too, the richest citizenof Rome, and Caius Julius Caesar, the most popular, awaited but the firstsuccess to join the parricides of the Republic.

  He listened thoughtfully, earnestly, until she had finished her narration,and then shook his head doubtfully.

  "I think," he said, "you must be deceived, poor Lucia. I do not see howthese things can be. These men, whom you have named, are all of the firsthouses of the state; have all of them, either themselves or theirforefathers, bled for the commonwealth. How then should they now wish todestroy it? They are men, too, of all parties and all factions; the Syllae,the proudest and haughtiest aristocrats of Rome. Your father, also,belonged to the Dictator's faction, while the Cornelii and the Curii havebelonged ever to the tribunes' party. How should this be? or how shouldthose whose pride, whose interest, whose power alike, rest on themaintenance of their order, desire to mow down the Patrician houses, likegrass beneath the scythe, and give their honors to the rabble? How, aboveall, should Crassus, whose estate is worth seven thousand talents,(16)consisting, too, of buildings in the heart of Rome, join with a partywhose watch-words are fire and plunder, partition of estates, and death tothe rich? You see yourself that these things cannot be; that they are notconsistent. You must have been deceived by their insolent and drunkenboasting!"

  "Consistent!" she replied, with vehement and angry irony. "Still harpingon consistency! Are virtuous men then consistent, that you expect viciousmen to be so? Oh, the false wisdom, the false pride of man! You tell methese things cannot be--perhaps they cannot; but they _are!_ I know it--Ihave heard, seen, partaken all! But if you can be convinced only by seeingthat the plans of men, whose every action is insanity and frenzy, are wiseand reasonable, perish yourself in your blindness, and let Rome perishwith you! I can no more. Farewell! I leave you to your madness!"

  "Hold! hold!" he cried, moved greatly by her vehemence, "are you indeed sosure of this? What, in the name of all the Gods, can be their motive?"

  "Sure! sure!" she answered scornfully; "I thought I was speaking to acapable and clever man of action; I see that it is a mere dreamer, towhose waking senses I appeal vainly. If _you_ be not sure, also, you mustbe weaker than I can conceive. Why, if there was no plot, would Catilinehave slaughtered Medon, lest it should be revealed? Why would he, else,have striven to bind you by oaths; and to what, if not to schemes ofsacrilege and treason? Why would he else have murdered Volero? why plantedambushes against your life? why would he now meditate my death, his ownchild's death, that I am forced to fly his house? Oh! in the wide worldthere is no such folly, as that of the over wise! Motive--motive enoughhave they! While the Patrician senate, and the Patrician Consuls hold withfirm hands the government, full well they know, that in vain violence orfraud may strive to wrest it from them. Let but the people hold the reinsof empire, and the first smooth-tongued, slippery demagogue, the firstbloody, conquering soldier, grasps them, and is the King, Dictator,Emperor, of Rome! Never yet in the history of nations, has despotismsprung out of oligarchic sway! Never yet has democracy but yielded to thefirst despot's usurpation! _They_ have not read in vain the annals of pastages, if you have done so, Paullus."

  "Ha!" he exclaimed, "look they so far ahead? Ambition, then, it is but anew form of ambition?"

  "Will you denounce them, Paullus?"

  "At least, I will warn the Consul!"

  "You must denounce them, or he will credit nothing."

  "I will save Rome."

  "Enough! enough! I am avenged, and thou shalt be happy. Go to the Consul,straightway! make your own terms, ask office, rank, wealth, power. He willgrant all! and now, farewell! Me you will see no more forever! Farewell,Paullus Arvina, fare you well forever! And sometimes, when you are happyin the chaste arms of Julia, sometimes think, Paullus, of poor, unhappy,loving, lost, lost Lucia!"

  "Whither, by all the Gods, I adjure you! whither would you go, Lucia?"

  "Far hence! far hence, my Paullus. Where I may live obscure in tranquilsolitude, where I may die when my time comes, in peace and innocence. InRome I were not safe an hour!"

  "Tell me where! tell me Lucia, how I may aid, how guard, console, orcounsel you."

  "You can do none of these things, Paullus. All is arranged for the best.Within an hour I shall be journeying hence, never to pass the gates, tohear the turbulent roar, to breathe the smoky skies, to taste themaddening pleasures, of glorious, guilty Rome! There is but one thing youcan do, which will minister to my well-being--but one boon you can grantme. Will you?"

  "And do you ask, Lucia?"

  "Will you swear?" she inquired, with a faint melancholy smile. "Nay! itconcerns no one but myself. You may swear safely."

  "I do, by the God of faith!"

  "Never seek, then, by word or deed, to learn whither I have gone, or whereI dwell. Look! I am armed," and she drew out a dagger as she spoke. "If Iam tracked or followed, whether by friend or foe, this will free me frompersecution; and it shall do so, by the living lights of heaven! This,after all, is the one true, the last friend of the wretched. All hail tothee, healer of all intolerable anguish!" and she kissed the bright blade,before she consigned it to the sheath; and then, stretching out both handsto Paullus, she cried, "You have sworn--Remember!"

  "And you promise me," he replied, "that, if a
t any time you need a friend,a defender, one who would lay down life itself to aid you, you will callon me, wheresoever I may be, fearless and undoubting. For, from thefestive board, or the nuptial bed, from the most sacred altar of the Gods,or from the solemn funeral pyre, I will come instant to thy bidding.'Lucia needs Paullus,' shall be words shriller than the war-trumpet'ssummons to my conscious soul."

  "I promise you," she said, "willingly, most willingly. And now kiss me,Paullus. Julia herself would not forbid this last, sad, pious kiss! Not mylips! not my lips! Part my hair on my brows, and kiss me on the forehead,where your lips, years ago, shed freshness, and hope that has not yet diedall away. Sweet, sweet! it is pure and sweet, it allays the fierce burningof my brain. Fare you well, Paul, and remember--remember Lucia Orestilla."

  She withdrew herself from his arm modestly, as she spoke, lowered herveil, turned, and was gone. Many a day and week elapsed, and weeks weremerged in months, ere any one, who knew her, again saw Catiline's unhappy,guilty daughter.