by Felix Dahn
CHAPTER XVI
Many of the guests--all who had been seated in the podium--descended tothe arena, helped themselves from the dishes, and ate the fruit andcakes. Gayly dressed slaves carried the refreshments to others, who hadremained in the rows of seats.
As soon as the barriers between the arena and the spectators wereremoved, the guests passed freely to and fro, sometimes down to thearena, sometimes back to their places; nay, they even mingled in thedance of the Satyrs and Bacchantes. Many of the latter were suddenlyembraced by the Vandals, who swung with them in the frantic whirl.
The confusion grew more chaotic. Cheeks glowed with a deeper crimson,fair and dark locks fluttered more wildly, and the musicians wereconstantly obliged to play faster to keep pace with the increasingexcitement of the dancers.
Thrasabad now poured the wine most freely, for he was exhausted by hisexertions, and his vanity was stirred by the applause bestowed upon hisarrangements for the festival. Reclining on a soft panther-skin, infront of a low drinking-table, he drained one goblet after another.
Glauke, whom he clasped with one arm, gazed anxiously at him, but darednot utter a warning.
Thrasaric noticed her expression.
"Listen, brother," he said; "take care. The director of the festival isthe only one who must remain sober. And the wine is heavy, and youknow, little brother, you can't stand much because you talk too fastwhile you are drinking."
"There--is--no--no danger!" replied the other, already stammering thewords with difficulty. "Come forth. Iris and ye gods of love!" He wavedthe staff; it fell from his hand and Glauke laid it by his side.
Suddenly the arched roof of the large silk tent which spanned the arenaopened. A rain of flowers--principally roses and lilies--fell upon thealtar, the tables, the dancers; a fragrant liquid, scarcely perceptibleas a light mist, was sprinkled from invisible pipes over the arena andthe seats of the spectators. All at once, breaking through a gray cloudhigh up at the back of the arena, appeared a sun, shedding a softgolden light.
"Helios is smiling through the shower of rain," cried Thrasabad; "soIris is probably not far distant."
At these words the seven-striped bow, glowing magnificently in vividcolors, arched above the whole arena. A young girl, supported by goldenclouds, and holding a veil of the seven hues draped gracefully abouther head, flew from the right to the left high above the stage. As soonas she had vanished, the rainbow and the sun disappeared too, andwhile shouts of surprise still rang through the Amphitheatre, a bandof charming Loves--children from four to nine years old, boys andgirls--were seen floating by chains of roses from the opening of thetent to the steps of the altar. Received by slaves, who released themfrom the flowery fetters, they grouped themselves on the steps aroundthe muffled figure, toward which all eyes were now directed with eagercuriosity.
Then Thrasabad, still clasping Glauke, sprang from the drinking tableto the altar. The Ionian had just taken a freshly filled goblet fromhis hand. The roars of applause which now burst forth fairly turned thevain youth's head; he staggered visibly as he stood on the higheststep, dragging the struggling girl with him. "Look, brother," he calledin an unsteady voice; "this is _my_ wedding gift. In the senator'svilla at Cirta--what is his name? He was burned because he clungobstinately to the Catholic faith. Never mind. I bought the villa fromthe fiscus; it stands on the foundations of a very ancient one, adornedwith imperial splendor, superb mosaics, hunting scenes, with stags,hounds, noble horses, beautiful women under palm-trees! In repairingthe cellar this statue was dug out from beneath broken columns; it issaid to be more than five hundred years old,--a gem of the best periodof Greek art. So my freedman says, who understands such things, anAphrodite. Show yourself, Queen of Paphos! I give her to you, brother."
He seized a broad-bladed knife which lay on the pedestal, cut a cord,and dropped the knife again. The covers fell; a wonderfully beautifulAphrodite, nobly modelled in white marble, appeared.
The Loves knelt around the feet of the goddess, and twined garlands offlowers about her knees. At the same moment a dazzling white light fellfrom above upon the altar and the goddess, brilliantly irradiating thearena, which was usually not too brightly illumined by lamps.
The acclamation of thousands of voices burst forth still moretumultuously, the dancers whirled in swifter circles, the drums andcymbals crashed louder than ever; but the sudden increase of uproar andthe vivid, dazzling light also reached the open grating of the tiger'scage. He uttered a terrible roar and sprang with a mighty leap againstthe bars, one of which fell noiselessly out on the soft sand. No onenoticed it, for another scene was taking place around the goddess onthe high steps of the altar.
"I thank you, brother," cried Thrasaric. "She is indeed the fairestwoman that can be imagined."
"Yes," replied Modigisel. "What do you mean, Astarte? Are you sneering?What fault can you find there?"
"That is no woman," said the Carthaginian, icily, scarcely parting herlips; "that is only a stone. Go there, kiss it, if it seems to you morebeautiful than--"
"Astarte is right," shouted Thrasabad, madly. "She is right! What useis a stone Aphrodite? A lifeless, marble-cold goddess of love! Sheclasps her arms forever across her bosom; she cannot open them for ablissful embrace. And what a stern dignity of expression, as thoughlove were the most serious, deadly-earnest, sacred thing. No, marblestatue, you are _not_ the fairest woman! The fairest woman--far morebeautiful than you--is my Aphrodite here. The fairest woman in theworld is mine. You shall acknowledge it with envy! I will, I will beenvied for her! You shall all confess it!"
And with surprising strength he dragged the Greek, who resisted withall her power, up beside him, swung her upon the broad pedestal of thestatue, and tore wildly at the white silk coverlet which, while on theship, Glauke had thrown over her shoulders, and the transparent Coanrobe.
"Stop! Stop, beloved! Do not dishonor me before all eyes!" pleaded thegirl, struggling in despair. "Stop--or by the Most High--"
But the Vandal, who had lost all self-control, laughed loudly. "Awaywith the envious veil!"
Once more he pulled down the coverlet and the robe. Steel flashed inthe light (the Ionian had snatched the knife from the pedestal), a warmred stream sprinkled Thrasabad's face, and the slight figure, alreadycrimsoned with blood, sank at the feet of the marble statue.
"Glauke!" cried the Vandal, suddenly sobered by the shock.
But at the same moment, outside the Amphitheatre rose in a noteof menace a brazen, warlike blare, dominating the loudest swellof the music,--for the dance of Satyrs and Bacchantes was stillcontinuing,--the blast of the Vandal horns. And from the doors, as wellas from the highest seats, which afforded a view of the grove, a cry ofterror from thousands of voices filled the spacious building: "The_King_! King Gelimer!"
The spectators, seized with fear, poured out of all the exits.
Thrasaric drew himself up to his full height, lifted the tremblingEugenia on his strong arm, and forced his way through the throng. Thevoice of the director of the festival was no longer heard. Thrasabadlay prostrate at the feet of the silent marble goddess, clasping in hisarms the beautiful Glauke--lifeless.
Soon he was alone with her in the vast deserted building.
Outside--far away--rose the uproar of voices in dispute, but thesilence of death reigned in the Amphitheatre; even the tiger made nosound, as if bewildered by the sudden stillness and emptiness.
It was past midnight.
A light breeze rose, stirring the silk roof of the tent, and sweepingtogether the roses which lay scattered over the arena.
