Quo Vadis: A Narrative of the Time of Nero

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

  Chapter II

  After a refreshment, which was called the morning meal and to which thetwo friends sat down at an hour when common mortals were already longpast their midday prandium, Petronius proposed a light doze. Accordingto him, it was too early for visits yet. "There are, it is true,"said he, "people who begin to visit their acquaintances about sunrise,thinking that custom an old Roman one, but I look on this as barbarous.The afternoon hours are most proper,--not earlier, however, than thatone when the sun passes to the side of Jove's temple on the Capitol andbegins to look slantwise on the Forum. In autumn it is still hot, andpeople are glad to sleep after eating. At the same time it is pleasantto hear the noise of the fountain in the atrium, and, after theobligatory thousand steps, to doze in the red light which filters inthrough the purple half-drawn velarium."

  Vinicius recognized the justice of these words; and the two men beganto walk, speaking in a careless manner of what was to be heard onthe Palatine and in the city, and philosophizing a little upon life.Petronius withdrew then to the cubiculum, but did not sleep long. Inhalf an hour he came out, and, having given command to bring verbena, heinhaled the perfume and rubbed his hands and temples with it.

  "Thou wilt not believe," said he, "how it enlivens and freshens one. NowI am ready."

  The litter was waiting long since; hence they took their places, andPetronius gave command to bear them to the Vicus Patricius, to thehouse of Aulus. Petronius's "insula" lay on the southern slope of thePalatine, near the so-called Carinae; their nearest way, therefore, wasbelow the Forum; but since Petronius wished to step in on the way to seethe jeweller Idomeneus, he gave the direction to carry them along theVicus Apollinis and the Forum in the direction of the Vicus Sceleratus,on the corner of which were many tabernae of every kind.

  Gigantic Africans bore the litter and moved on, preceded by slavescalled pedisequii. Petronius, after some time, raised to his nostrilsin silence his palm odorous with verbena, and seemed to be meditating onsomething.

  "It occurs to me," said he after a while, "that if thy forest goddess isnot a slave she might leave the house of Plautius, and transfer herselfto thine. Thou wouldst surround her with love and cover her with wealth,as I do my adored Chrysothemis, of whom, speaking between us, I havequite as nearly enough as she has of me."

  Marcus shook his head.

  "No?" inquired Petronius. "In the worst event, the case would be leftwith Caesar, and thou mayst be certain that, thanks even to my influence,our Bronzebeard would be on thy side."

  "Thou knowest not Lygia," replied Vinicius.

  "Then permit me to ask if thou know her otherwise than by sight? Hastspoken with her? hast confessed thy love to her?"

  "I saw her first at the fountain; since then I have met her twice.Remember that during my stay in the house of Aulus, I dwelt in aseparate villa, intended for guests, and, having a disjointed arm, Icould not sit at the common table. Only on the eve of the day for whichI announced my departure did I meet Lygia at supper, but I could notsay a word to her. I had to listen to Aulus and his account of victoriesgained by him in Britain, and then of the fall of small states in Italy,which Licinius Stolo strove to prevent. In general I do not know whetherAulus will be able to speak of aught else, and do not think that weshall escape this history unless it be thy wish to hear about theeffeminacy of these days. They have pheasants in their preserves, butthey do not eat them, setting out from the principle that every pheasanteaten brings nearer the end of Roman power. I met her a second time atthe garden cistern, with a freshly plucked reed in her hand, the top ofwhich she dipped in the water and sprinkled the irises growing around.Look at my knees. By the shield of Hercules, I tell thee that theydid not tremble when clouds of Parthians advanced on our maniples withhowls, but they trembled before the cistern. And, confused as a youthwho still wears a bulla on his neck, I merely begged pity with my eyes,not being able to utter a word for a long time."

  Petronius looked at him, as if with a certain envy. "Happy man," saidhe, "though the world and life were the worst possible, one thing inthem will remain eternally good,--youth!"

  After a while he inquired: "And hast thou not spoken to her?"

  "When I had recovered somewhat, I told her that I was returning fromAsia, that I had disjointed my arm near the city, and had sufferedseverely, but at the moment of leaving that hospitable house I saw thatsuffering in it was more to be wished for than delight in another place,that sickness there was better than health somewhere else. Confusedtoo on her part, she listened to my words with bent head while drawingsomething with the reed on the saffron-colored sand. Afterward sheraised her eyes, then looked down at the marks drawn already; oncemore she looked at me, as if to ask about something, and then fled on asudden like a hamadryad before a dull faun."

  "She must have beautiful eyes."

  "As the sea--and I was drowned in them, as in the sea. Believe me thatthe archipelago is less blue. After a while a little son of Plautius ranup with a question. But I did not understand what he wanted."

  "O Athene!" exclaimed Petronius, "remove from the eyes of this youth thebandage with which Eros has bound them; if not, he will break his headagainst the columns of Venus's temple.

  "O thou spring bud on the tree of life," said he, turning to Vinicius,"thou first green shoot of the vine! Instead of taking thee to thePlautiuses, I ought to give command to bear thee to the house ofGelocius, where there is a school for youths unacquainted with life."

  "What dost thou wish in particular?"

  "But what did she write on the sand? Was it not the name of Amor, or aheart pierced with his dart, or something of such sort, that one mightknow from it that the satyrs had whispered to the ear of that nymphvarious secrets of life? How couldst thou help looking on those marks?"

  "It is longer since I have put on the toga than seems to thee," saidVinicius, "and before little Aulus ran up, I looked carefully at thosemarks, for I know that frequently maidens in Greece and in Rome draw onthe sand a confession which their lips will not utter. But guess whatshe drew!"

  "If it is other than I supposed, I shall not guess."

  "A fish."

  "What dost thou say?"

  "I say, a fish. What did that mean,--that cold blood is flowing in herveins? So far I do not know; but thou, who hast called me a spring budon the tree of life, wilt be able to understand the sign certainly."

  "Carissime! ask such a thing of Pliny. He knows fish. If old Apiciuswere alive, he could tell thee something, for in the course of hislife he ate more fish than could find place at one time in the bay ofNaples."

  Further conversation was interrupted, since they were borne into crowdedstreets where the noise of people hindered them.

  From the Vicus Apollinis they turned to the Boarium, and then enteredthe Forum Romanum, where on clear days, before sunset, crowds of idlepeople assembled to stroll among the columns, to tell and hear news, tosee noted people borne past in litters, and finally to look in at thejewellery-shops, the book-shops, the arches where coin was changed,shops for silk, bronze, and all other articles with which the buildingscovering that part of the market placed opposite the Capitol werefilled.

  One-half of the Forum, immediately under the rock of the Capitol, wasburied already in shade; but the columns of the temples, placed higher,seemed golden in the sunshine and the blue. Those lying lower castlengthened shadows on marble slabs. The place was so filled with columnseverywhere that the eye was lost in them as in a forest.

  Those buildings and columns seemed huddled together. They towered someabove others, they stretched toward the right and the left, they climbedtoward the height, and they clung to the wall of the Capitol, or someof them clung to others, like greater and smaller, thicker and thinner,white or gold colored tree-trunks, now blooming under architraves,flowers of the acanthus, now surrounded with Ionic corners, now finishedwith a simple Doric quadrangle. Above that forest gleamed coloredtriglyphs; from tympans stood forth the sculptured forms of gods; fromthe summits winged golden q
uadrigae seemed ready to fly away throughspace into the blue dome, fixed serenely above that crowded place oftemples. Through the middle of the market and along the edges of itflowed a river of people; crowds passed under the arches of the basilicaof Julius Caesar; crowds were sitting on the steps of Castor and Pollux,or walking around the temple of Vesta, resembling on that great marblebackground many-colored swarms of butterflies or beetles. Down immensesteps, from the side of the temple on the Capitol dedicated to JupiterOptimus Maximus, came new waves; at the rostra people listened to chanceorators; in one place and another rose the shouts of hawkers sellingfruit, wine, or water mixed with fig-juice; of tricksters; of vendersof marvellous medicines; of soothsayers; of discoverers of hiddentreasures; of interpreters of dreams. Here and there, in the tumult ofconversations and cries, were mingled sounds of the Egyptian sistra, ofthe sambuke, or of Grecian flutes. Here and there the sick, the pious,or the afflicted were bearing offerings to the temples. In the midst ofthe people, on the stone flags, gathered flocks of doves, eager forthe grain given them, and like movable many-colored and dark spots, nowrising for a moment with a loud sound of wings, now dropping down againto places left vacant by people. From time to time the crowds openedbefore litters in which were visible the affected faces of women, orthe heads of senators and knights, with features, as it were, rigid andexhausted from living. The many-tongued population repeated aloud theirnames, with the addition of some term of praise or ridicule. Amongthe unordered groups pushed from time to time, advancing with measuredtread, parties of soldiers, or watchers, preserving order on thestreets. Around about, the Greek language was heard as often as Latin.

  Vinicius, who had not been in the city for a long time, looked with acertain curiosity on that swarm of people and on that Forum Romanum,which both dominated the sea of the world and was flooded by it, so thatPetronius, who divined the thoughts of his companion, called it "thenest of the Quirites--without the Quirites." In truth, the local elementwas well-nigh lost in that crowd, composed of all races and nations.There appeared Ethiopians, gigantic light-haired people from the distantnorth, Britons, Gauls, Germans, sloping-eyed dwellers of Lericum; peoplefrom the Euphrates and from the Indus, with beards dyed brick color;Syrians from the banks of the Orontes, with black and mild eyes;dwellers in the deserts of Arabia, dried up as a bone; Jews, with theirflat breasts; Egyptians, with the eternal, indifferent smile on theirfaces; Numidians and Africans; Greeks from Hellas, who equally with theRomans commanded the city, but commanded through science, art, wisdom,and deceit; Greeks from the islands, from Asia Minor, from Egypt, fromItaly, from Narbonic Gaul. In the throng of slaves, with pierced ears,were not lacking also freemen,--an idle population, which Caesar amused,supported, even clothed,--and free visitors, whom the ease of life andthe prospects of fortune enticed to the gigantic city; there was no lackof venal persons. There were priests of Serapis, with palm branches intheir hands; priests of Isis, to whose altar more offerings were broughtthan to the temple of the Capitoline Jove; priests of Cybele, bearingin their hands golden ears of rice; and priests of nomad divinities; anddancers of the East with bright head-dresses, and dealers in amulets,and snake-tamers, and Chaldean seers; and, finally, people without anyoccupation whatever, who applied for grain every week at the storehouseson the Tiber, who fought for lottery-tickets to the Circus, who spenttheir nights in rickety houses of districts beyond the Tiber, and sunnyand warm days under covered porticos, and in foul eating-houses of theSubura, on the Milvian bridge, or before the "insulae" of the great,where from time to time remnants from the tables of slaves were thrownout to them.

  Petronius was well known to those crowds. Vinicius's ears werestruck continually by "Hic est!" (Here he is). They loved him for hismunificence; and his peculiar popularity increased from the time whenthey learned that he had spoken before Caesar in opposition to thesentence of death issued against the whole "familia," that is, againstall the slaves of the prefect Pedanius Secundus, without distinction ofsex or age, because one of them had killed that monster in a moment ofdespair. Petronius repeated in public, it is true, that it was all oneto him, and that he had spoken to Caesar only privately, as the arbiterelegantiarum whose aesthetic taste was offended by a barbarous slaughterbefitting Scythians and not Romans. Nevertheless, people who wereindignant because of the slaughter loved Petronius from that momentforth. But he did not care for their love. He remembered that that crowdof people had loved also Britannicus, poisoned by Nero; and Agrippina,killed at his command; and Octavia, smothered in hot steam at thePandataria, after her veins had been opened previously; and RubeliusPlautus, who had been banished; and Thrasea, to whom any morning mightbring a death sentence. The love of the mob might be considered ratherof ill omen; and the sceptical Petronius was superstitious also. He hada twofold contempt for the multitude,--as an aristocrat and an aestheticperson. Men with the odor of roast beans, which they carried in theirbosoms, and who besides were eternally hoarse and sweating from playingmora on the street-corners and peristyles, did not in his eyes deservethe term "human." Hence he gave no answer whatever to the applause,or the kisses sent from lips here and there to him. He was relating toMarcus the case of Pedanius, reviling meanwhile the fickleness of thatrabble which, next morning after the terrible butchery, applauded Neroon his way to the temple of Jupiter Stator. But he gave command tohalt before the book-shop of Avirnus, and, descending from the litter,purchased an ornamented manuscript, which he gave to Vinicius.

  "Here is a gift for thee," said he.

  "Thanks!" answered Vinicius. Then, looking at the title, he inquired,"'Satyricon'? Is this something new? Whose is it?"

  "Mine. But I do not wish to go in the road of Rufinus, whose history Iwas to tell thee, nor of Fabricius Veiento; hence no one knows of this,and do thou mention it to no man."

  "Thou hast said that thou art no writer of verses," said Vinicius,looking at the middle of the manuscript; "but here I see prose thicklyinterwoven with them."

  "When thou art reading, turn attention to Trimalchion's feast. As toverses, they have disgusted me, since Nero is writing an epic. Vitelius,when he wishes to relieve himself, uses ivory fingers to thrust down histhroat; others serve themselves with flamingo feathers steeped in oliveoil or in a decoction of wild thyme. I read Nero's poetry, and theresult is immediate. Straightway I am able to praise it, if not with aclear conscience, at least with a clear stomach."

  When he had said this, he stopped the litter again before the shop ofIdomeneus the goldsmith, and, having settled the affair of the gems,gave command to bear the litter directly to Aulus's mansion.

  "On the road I will tell thee the story of Rufinus," said he, "as proofof what vanity in an author may be."

  But before he had begun, they turned in to the Vicus Patricius, andsoon found themselves before the dwelling of Aulus. A young and sturdy"janitor" opened the door leading to the ostium, over which a magpieconfined in a cage greeted them noisily with the word, "Salve!"

  On the way from the second antechamber, called the ostium, to the atriumitself, Vinicius said,--"Hast noticed that thee doorkeepers arewithout chains?" "This is a wonderful house," answered Petronius, inan undertone. "Of course it is known to thee that Pomponia Graecina issuspected of entertaining that Eastern superstition which consists inhonoring a certain Chrestos. It seems that Crispinilla rendered herthis service,--she who cannot forgive Pomponia because one husband hassufficed her for a lifetime. A one-man Woman! To-day, in Rome, it iseasier to get a half-plate of fresh mushrooms from Noricum than to findsuch. They tried her before a domestic court--"

  "To thy judgment this is a wonderful house. Later on I will tell theewhat I heard and saw in it."

  Meanwhile they had entered the atrium. The slave appointed to it, calledatriensis, sent a nomenclator to announce the guests; and Petronius,who, imagining that eternal sadness reigned in this severe house, hadnever been in it, looked around with astonishment, and as it were with afeeling of disappointment, for the atrium produced rather an impressionof cheerf
ulness. A sheaf of bright light falling from above througha large opening broke into a thousand sparks on a fountain in aquadrangular little basin, called the impluvium, which was in the middleto receive rain falling through the opening during bad weather; thiswas surrounded by anemones and lilies. In that house a special love forlilies was evident, for there were whole clumps of them, both white andred; and, finally, sapphire irises, whose delicate leaves were as ifsilvered from the spray of the fountain. Among the moist mosses, inwhich lily-pots were hidden, and among the bunches of lilies were littlebronze statues representing children and water-birds. In one corner abronze fawn, as if wishing to drink, was inclining its greenish head,grizzled, too, by dampness. The floor of the atrium was of mosaic; thewalls, faced partly with red marble and partly with wood, on which werepainted fish, birds, and griffins, attracted the eye by the play ofcolors. From the door to the side chamber they were ornamented withtortoise-shell or even ivory; at the walls between the doors werestatues of Aulus's ancestors. Everywhere calm plenty was evident, remotefrom excess, but noble and self-trusting.

  Petronius, who lived with incomparably greater show and elegance, couldfind nothing which offended his taste; and had just turned to Viniciuswith that remark, when a slave, the velarius, pushed aside the curtainseparating the atrium from the tablinum, and in the depth of thebuilding appeared Aulus Plautius approaching hurriedly.

  He was a man nearing the evening of life, with a head whitened by hoarfrost, but fresh, with an energetic face, a trifle too short, but stillsomewhat eagle-like. This time there was expressed on it a certainastonishment, and even alarm, because of the unexpected arrival ofNero's friend, companion, and suggester.

  Petronius was too much a man of the world and too quick not to noticethis; hence, after the first greetings, he announced with all theeloquence and ease at his command that he had come to give thanksfor the care which his sister's son had found in that house, and thatgratitude alone was the cause of the visit, to which, moreover, he wasemboldened by his old acquaintance with Aulus.

  Aulus assured him that he was a welcome guest; and as to gratitude, hedeclared that he had that feeling himself, though surely Petronius didnot divine the cause of it.

  In fact, Petronius did not divine it. In vain did he raise his hazeleyes, endeavoring to remember the least service rendered to Aulus or toany one. He recalled none, unless it might be that which he intendedto show Vinicius. Some such thing, it is true, might have happenedinvoluntarily, but only involuntarily.

  "I have great love and esteem for Vespasian, whose life thou didstsave," said Aulus, "when he had the misfortune to doze while listeningto Nero's verses."

  "He was fortunate," replied Petronius, "for he did not hear them; butI will not deny that the matter might have ended with misfortune.Bronzebeard wished absolutely to send a centurion to him with thefriendly advice to open his veins."

  "But thou, Petronius, laughed him out of it."

  "That is true, or rather it is not true. I told Nero that if Orpheus putwild beasts to sleep with song, his triumph was equal, since he had putVespasian to sleep. Ahenobarbus may be blamed on condition that to asmall criticism a great flattery be added. Our gracious Augusta, Poppaea,understands this to perfection."

  "Alas! such are the times," answered Aulus. "I lack two front teeth,knocked out by a stone from the hand of a Briton, I speak with a hiss;still my happiest days were passed in Britain."

  "Because they were days of victory," added Vinicius.

  But Petronius, alarmed lest the old general might begin a narrative ofhis former wars, changed the conversation.

  "See," said he, "in the neighborhood of Praeneste country people founda dead wolf whelp with two heads; and during a storm about thattime lightning struck off an angle of the temple of Luna,--a thingunparalleled, because of the late autumn. A certain Cotta, too, whohad told this, added, while telling it, that the priests of that templeprophesied the fall of the city or, at least, the ruin of a greathouse,--ruin to be averted only by uncommon sacrifices."

  Aulus, when he had heard the narrative, expressed the opinion that suchsigns should not be neglected; that the gods might be angered by anover-measure of wickedness. In this there was nothing wonderful; and insuch an event expiatory sacrifices were perfectly in order.

  "Thy house, Plautius, is not too large," answered Petronius, "thougha great man lives in it. Mine is indeed too large for such a wretchedowner, though equally small. But if it is a question of the ruin ofsomething as great, for example, as the domus transitoria, would it beworth while for us to bring offerings to avert that ruin?"

  Plautius did not answer that question,--a carefulness which touched evenPetronius somewhat, for, with all his inability to feel the differencebetween good and evil, he had never been an informer; and it waspossible to talk with him in perfect safety. He changed the conversationagain, therefore, and began to praise Plautius's dwelling and the goodtaste which reigned in the house.

  "It is an ancient seat," said Plautius, "in which nothing has beenchanged since I inherited it."

  After the curtain was pushed aside which divided the atrium from thetablinum, the house was open from end to end, so that through thetablinum and the following peristyle and the hall lying beyond it whichwas called the oecus, the glance extended to the garden, which seemedfrom a distance like a bright image set in a dark frame. Joyous,childlike laughter came from it to the atrium.

  "Oh, general!" said Petronius, "permit us to listen from near by to thatglad laughter which is of a kind heard so rarely in these days."

  "Willingly," answered Plautius, rising; "that is my little Aulus andLygia, playing ball. But as to laughter, I think, Petronius, that ourwhole life is spent in it."

  "Life deserves laughter, hence people laugh at it," answered Petronius,"but laughter here has another sound."

  "Petronius does not laugh for days in succession," said Vinicius; "butthen he laughs entire nights."

  Thus conversing, they passed through the length of the house and reachedthe garden, where Lygia and little Aulus were playing with balls, whichslaves, appointed to that game exclusively and called spheristae, pickedup and placed in their hands. Petronius cast a quick passing glance atLygia; little Aulus, seeing Vinicius, ran to greet him; but the youngtribune, going forward, bent his head before the beautiful maiden, whostood with a ball in her hand, her hair blown apart a little. She wassomewhat out of breath, and flushed.

  In the garden triclinium, shaded by ivy, grapes, and woodbine, satPomponia Graecina; hence they went to salute her. She was known toPetronius, though he did not visit Plautius, for he had seen her at thehouse of Antistia, the daughter of Rubelius Plautus, and besides at thehouse of Seneca and Polion. He could not resist a certain admirationwith which he was filled by her face, pensive but mild, by the dignityof her bearing, by her movements, by her words. Pomponia disturbed hisunderstanding of women to such a degree that that man, corrupted to themarrow of his bones, and self-confident as no one in Rome, not only feltfor her a kind of esteem, but even lost his previous self-confidence.And now, thanking her for her care of Vinicius, he thrust in, as it wereinvoluntarily, "domina," which never occurred to him when speaking, forexample, to Calvia Crispinilla, Scribonia, Veleria, Solina, and otherwomen of high society. After he had greeted her and returned thanks, hebegan to complain that he saw her so rarely, that it was not possible tomeet her either in the Circus or the Amphitheatre; to which she answeredcalmly, laying her hand on the hand of her husband:

  "We are growing old, and love our domestic quiet more and more, both ofus."

  Petronius wished to oppose; but Aulus Plautius added in his hissingvoice,--"And we feel stranger and stranger among people who give Greeknames to our Roman divinities."

  "The gods have become for some time mere figures of rhetoric," repliedPetronius, carelessly. "But since Greek rhetoricians taught us, it iseasier for me even to say Hera than Juno."

  He turned his eyes then to Pomponia, as if to signify that in presenceof her no othe
r divinity could come to his mind: and then he began tocontradict what she had said touching old age.

  "People grow old quickly, it is true; but there are some who liveanother life entirely, and there are faces moreover which Saturn seemsto forget."

  Petronius said this with a certain sincerity even, for Pomponia Graecina,though descending from the midday of life, had preserved an uncommonfreshness of face; and since she had a small head and delicate features,she produced at times, despite her dark robes, despite her solemnity andsadness, the impression of a woman quite young.

  Meanwhile little Aulus, who had become uncommonly friendly with Viniciusduring his former stay in the house, approached the young man andentreated him to play ball. Lygia herself entered the triclinium afterthe little boy. Under the climbing ivy, with the light quivering on herface, she seemed to Petronius more beautiful than at the first glance,and really like some nymph. As he had not spoken to her thus far,he rose, inclined his head, and, instead of the usual expressions ofgreeting, quoted the words with which Ulysses greeted Nausikaa,--

  "I supplicate thee, O queen, whether thou art some goddess or a mortal!If thou art one of the daughters of men who dwell on earth, thriceblessed are thy father and thy lady mother, and thrice blessed thybrethren."

  The exquisite politeness of this man of the world pleased even Pomponia.As to Lygia, she listened, confused and flushed, without boldness toraise her eyes. But a wayward smile began to quiver at the corners ofher lips, and on her face a struggle was evident between the timidityof a maiden and the wish to answer; but clearly the wish was victorious,for, looking quickly at Petronius, she answered him all at once with thewords of that same Nausikaa, quoting them at one breath, and a littlelike a lesson learned,--

  "Stranger, thou seemest no evil man nor foolish."

  Then she turned and ran out as a frightened bird runs.

  This time the turn for astonishment came to Petronius, for he had notexpected to hear verses of Homer from the lips of a maiden of whosebarbarian extraction he had heard previously from Vinicius. Hence helooked with an inquiring glance at Pomponia; but she could not givehim an answer, for she was looking at that moment, with a smile, at thepride reflected on the face of her husband.

  He was not able to conceal that pride. First, he had become attachedto Lygia as to his own daughter; and second, in spite of his old Romanprejudices, which commanded him to thunder against Greek and the spreadof the language, he considered it as the summit of social polish. Hehimself had never been able to learn it well; over this he suffered insecret. He was glad, therefore, that an answer was given in the languageand poetry of Homer to this exquisite man both of fashion and letters,who was ready to consider Plautius's house as barbarian.

  "We have in the house a pedagogue, a Greek," said he, turning toPetronius, "who teaches our boy, and the maiden overhears the lessons.She is a wagtail yet, but a dear one, to which we have both grownattached."

  Petronius looked through the branches of woodbine into the garden, andat the three persons who were playing there. Vinicius had thrown asidehis toga, and, wearing only his tunic, was striking the ball, whichLygia, standing opposite, with raised arms was trying to catch. Themaiden did not make a great impression on Petronius at the first glance;she seemed to him too slender. But from the moment when he saw her morenearly in the triclinium he thought to himself that Aurora might looklike her; and as a judge he understood that in her there was somethinguncommon. He considered everything and estimated everything; hence herface, rosy and clear, her fresh lips, as if set for a kiss, her eyesblue as the azure of the sea, the alabaster whiteness of her forehead,the wealth of her dark hair, with the reflection of amber or Corinthianbronze gleaming in its folds, her slender neck, the divine slope of hershoulders, the whole posture, flexible, slender, young with the youth ofMay and of freshly opened flowers. The artist was roused in him, and theworshipper of beauty, who felt that beneath a statue of that maiden onemight write "Spring." All at once he remembered Chrysothemis, and purelaughter seized him. Chrysothemis seemed to him, with golden powder onher hair and darkened brows, to be fabulously faded,--something inthe nature of a yellowed rose-tree shedding its leaves. But still Romeenvied him that Chrysothemis. Then he recalled Poppaea; and that mostfamous Poppaea also seemed to him soulless, a waxen mask. In that maidenwith Tanagrian outlines there was not only spring, but a radiant soul,which shone through her rosy body as a flame through a lamp.

  "Vinicius is right," thought he, "and my Chrysothemis is old, old!--asTroy!"

  Then he turned to Pomponia Graecina, and, pointing to the garden,said,--"I understand now, domina, why thou and thy husband prefer thishouse to the Circus and to feasts on the Palatine."

  "Yes," answered she, turning her eyes in the direction of little Aulusand Lygia.

  But the old general began to relate the history of the maiden, and whathe had heard years before from Atelius Hister about the Lygian peoplewho lived in the gloom of the North.

  The three outside had finished playing ball, and for some time hadbeen walking along the sand of the garden, appearing against the darkbackground of myrtles and cypresses like three white statues. Lygia heldlittle Aulus by the hand. After they had walked a while they sat on abench near the fish-pond, which occupied the middle of the garden. Aftera time Aulus sprang up to frighten the fish in the transparent water,but Vinicius continued the conversation begun during the walk.

  "Yes," said he, in a low, quivering voice, scarcely audible; "barely hadI cast aside the pretexta, when I was sent to the legions in Asia. Ihad not become acquainted with the city, nor with life, nor with love.I know a small bit of Anacreon by heart, and Horace; but I cannot likePetronius quote verses, when reason is dumb from admiration and unableto find its own words. While a youth I went to school to Musonius,who told me that happiness consists in wishing what the gods wish, andtherefore depends on our will. I think, however, that it is somethingelse,--something greater and more precious, which depends not onthe will, for love only can give it. The gods themselves seek thathappiness; hence I too, O Lygia, who have not known love thusfar, follow in their footsteps. I also seek her who would give mehappiness--"

  He was silent--and for a time there was nothing to be heard save thelight plash of the water into which little Aulus was throwing pebblesto frighten the fish; but after a while Vinicius began again in a voicestill softer and lower,--"But thou knowest of Vespasian's son Titus?They say that he had scarcely ceased to be a youth when he so lovedBerenice that grief almost drew the life out of him. So could I toolove, O Lygia! Riches, glory, power are mere smoke, vanity! The richman will find a richer than himself; the greater glory of anotherwill eclipse a man who is famous; a strong man will be conquered by astronger. But can Caesar himself, can any god even, experience greaterdelight or be happier than a simple mortal at the moment when at hisbreast there is breathing another dear breast, or when he kisses belovedlips? Hence love makes us equal to the gods, O Lygia."

  And she listened with alarm, with astonishment, and at the same time asif she were listening to the sound of a Grecian flute or a cithara. Itseemed to her at moments that Vinicius was singing a kind of wonderfulsong, which was instilling itself into her ears, moving the blood inher, and penetrating her heart with a faintness, a fear, and a kindof uncomprehended delight. It seemed to her also that he was tellingsomething which was in her before, but of which she could not giveaccount to herself. She felt that he was rousing in her something whichhad been sleeping hitherto, and that in that moment a hazy dreamwas changing into a form more and more definite, more pleasing, morebeautiful.

  Meanwhile the sun had passed the Tiber long since, and had sunk low overthe Janiculum. On the motionless cypresses ruddy light was falling, andthe whole atmosphere was filled with it. Lygia raised on Vinicius herblue eyes as if roused from sleep; and he, bending over her with aprayer quivering in his eyes, seemed on a sudden, in the reflectionsof evening, more beautiful than all men, than all Greek and Roman godswhose statues she had seen on th
e facades of temples. And withhis fingers he clasped her arm lightly just above the wrist andasked,--"Dost thou not divine what I say to thee, Lygia?"

  "No," whispered she as answer, in a voice so low that Vinicius barelyheard it.

  But he did not believe her, and, drawing her hand toward him morevigorously, he would have drawn it to his heart, which, under theinfluence of desire roused by the marvellous maiden, was beating like ahammer, and would have addressed burning words to her directly had notold Aulus appeared on a path set in a frame of myrtles, who said,while approaching them,--"The sun is setting; so beware of the eveningcoolness, and do not trifle with Libitina."

  "No," answered Vinicius; "I have not put on my toga yet, and I do notfeel the cold."

  "But see, barely half the sun's shield is looking from behind the hill.That is a sweet climate of Sicily, where people gather on the squarebefore sunset and take farewell of disappearing Phoebus with a choralsong."

  And, forgetting that a moment earlier he had warned them againstLibitina, he began to tell about Sicily, where he had estates and largecultivated fields which he loved. He stated also that it had come to hismind more than once to remove to Sicily, and live out his life there inquietness. "He whose head winters have whitened has bad enough of hoarfrost. Leaves are not falling from the trees yet, and the sky smiles onthe city lovingly; but when the grapevines grow yellow-leaved, when snowfalls on the Alban hills, and the gods visit the Campania with piercingwind, who knows but I may remove with my entire household to my quietcountry-seat?"

  "Wouldst thou leave Rome?" inquired Vinicius, with sudden alarm.

  "I have wished to do so this long time, for it is quieter in Sicily andsafer."

  And again he fell to praising his gardens, his herds, his house hiddenin green, and the hills grown over with thyme and savory, among whichwere swarms of buzzing bees. But Vinicius paid no heed to that bucolicnote; and from thinking only of this, that he might lose Lygia, helooked toward Petronius as if expecting salvation from him alone.

  Meanwhile Petronius, sitting near Pomponia, was admiring the view ofthe setting sun, the garden, and the people standing near the fish-pond.Their white garments on the dark background of the myrtles gleamed likegold from the evening rays. On the sky the evening light had begun toassume purple and violet hues, and to change like an opal. A strip ofthe sky became lily-colored. The dark silhouettes of the cypresses grewstill more pronounced than during bright daylight. In the people, in thetrees, in the whole garden there reigned an evening calm.

  That calm struck Petronius, and it struck him especially in the people.In the faces of Pomponia, old Aulus, their son, and Lygia there wassomething such as he did not see in the faces which surrounded him everyday, or rather every night. There was a certain light, a certain repose,a certain serenity, flowing directly from the life which all livedthere. And with a species of astonishment he thought that a beauty andsweetness might exist which he, who chased after beauty and sweetnesscontinually, had not known. He could not hide the thought in himself,and said, turning to Pomponia,--"I am considering in my soul howdifferent this world of yours is from the world which our Nero rules."

  She raised her delicate face toward the evening light, and said withsimplicity,--"Not Nero, but God, rules the world."

  A moment of silence followed. Near the triclinium were heard in thealley, the steps of the old general, Vinicius, Lygia, and little Aulus;but before they arrived, Petronius had put another question--"Butbelievest thou in the gods, then, Pomponia?"

  "I believe in God, who is one, just, and all-powerful," answered thewife of Aulus Plautius.