eee = - z ers pon ae 7 Se NE ae ae ee a Z ~ " ; SS a I a i pe Sor ere I Oe a To ra Fae a aT ES coh aet serene ES Ss erences Sa ee kwon Ears cars ee a ee ral shat aes bese eee eet pieced ainda Or es aps cetera crap as eT EE OTe ne eg a re cecrnpenanemreet ATs pomemrevaeteers SFaptesai abn teat eta a aes meeentht pint ee ea x —— a a anes CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY In Compliance with current copyright law, Cornell University Library produced this replacement volume on paper that meets the ANSI Standard Z39.48-1992 to replace the irreparably deteriorated original. 1998 CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY BEQUEST OF JAMES McCALL Crass oF 1885 1944 its if ki CUCU ee ea ir etl HENRYK SIE NKIEWICZ ZZ he “ ATALE OF THE TIME OF NERO author of Ancient Egypt™ 3 ‘land S.MALEVSKY 4 Granslated by DR. S.A BINION Mlustrated by M.vE LIPMAN Emon TT TT nn PROLOGUE There are two requisites in a good translation. First, it should be good English. Second, it should be loyal to the original. These two requisites are in fact one. For the translation of such a masterpiece as “Quo Vadis” it cannot be loyal to the spirit of the original unless it be good English. But loyalty to the spirit must frequently involve disloyalty to the letter. The famous Portuguese guide-book known to us as “English as She is Spoke,” is sufficient evidence of the betrayal of sense which may result from too strenuous an at- tempt at verbal fidelity. This translation, therefore, aims to be faithful to both En- glish and Polish. The needless iterations which are legit- imate in Polish have been dropped as illegitimate in English. Thus a large number of “ands,” “buts,” and “meanwhiles” have been weeded out, as well as all such phrases as “so say- ing,” or “with these words,” which retard the reader without enlightening him. “He began to do so and so” has been altered into “He did so and so.” More important still, Pol- ish idioms and locutions, meaningless to English ears, have been rendered into the nearest possible equivalents with the same object of aiding the reader, and the Latin terms have been carefully translated in the text itself. No one but a Latin scholar is familiar with such words 2s “epilatores,” “curriculum,” “fauces,” “frigidarium,” “perac- tum est,” “habet,” “innoxa corpora,” and many others that are sprinkled throughout the Polish original. They are stumbling blocks in the reader’s path, to whom the distrac- tion of even a foot-note or an intercalary translation are a drawback. They mar the reader’s pleasure. The main ob- ject of this translation is to bring this great masterpiece with- in the comprehension of all readers. But absolute accuracy to the spirit has also been aimed at. Many serious, and even vital errors in the current transla- tions have been eliminated, and words and phrases have been restored to their true meaning in the clearest English attain- able. It is the hope of the translators that there is not one sentence which the lay reader would have to pause at or stumble over. PART I. QUO VADIS. CHAPTER I. It was not until about noon that Petronius finally woke. He felt greatly fatigued as usual. The evening before he had been with Nero at a feast which had continued late into the night. For some time past his health had not been good. He said of himself that he felt like a log of wood in the morn- ings, and barely had sufficient strength to collect his thoughts. However, a bath and the careful massage admin- istered by skilled slaves gradually quickened the flow of his sluggish blood, refreshed him and restored his courage. From the last stage of the bath he issued a new man, his eyes sparkling with wit and animation, rejuvenated, vivacious; so superior that Otho could not equal him, in fact, honestly mer- iting his sobriquet, arbiter of elegance. Petronius seldom went to the public baths, and then only to hear some speaker whose reputation had aroused the gos- sip of the city, or when there were games of particular inter- est going on in the great hall. In ordinary circumstances he preferred his private baths on his own estate, which Celer, the renowned companion of Severus, had enlarged and rebuilt for him. With so much taste were they equipped, that in spite of the fact that the imperial baths were larger and im- measurably more luxuriously planned, Nero himself owned Petronius’s superior. As Petronius, bored by Vatinius’s joking, had taken part after last night’s feast in a discussion with Nero, Lucan and Seneca as to whether women possessed souls, he woke, as has been said, late, and according to his habit made use of the baths. Two colossal slaves having laid him upon a cyprus 3 4 QUO VADIS. wood table, which was covered with immaculate Egyptian linen, dipped their hands in perfumed oil and began to rub him. Meanwhile, closing his eyes, he waited till the warmth of the steam and the friction of the rubbers’ hands should penetrate his body and drive away fatigue. After a short time he opened his eyes and asked of the weather. Later he inquired concerning the precious stones which Idomeneus, the jeweler, had promised to bring him to examine. As the breeze was from the Alban mountains, the weather promised fair; as for the precious stones they had not yet been sent. At the same instant the slave whose duty it was to announce the names of the visitors to the baths, ap- peared from behind the curtain to say that young Marcus Vinitius, who had just returned from Asia Minor, wished te see Petronius. Petronius ordered the slaves to carry him to the warm room into which he directed that his guest should be ad- mitted. Vinitius was the son of his eldest sister, who had years before become the wife of Marcus Vinitius, a consul in the reign of Tiberius. Under Corbulo’s command, the young Vinitius had been fighting the Parthians, and had now, after the close of the war, returned to Rome. Petronius was extremely fond of him, because, for one reason he was handsome and athletic; and also because he had sufficient del- icacy of feeling not to exceed a certain moderation in his de- baucheries—a faculty which Petronius valued above all others. “My greetings to Petronius,” said the young man, as with an elastic step he entered the warm room. “May all the gods, and especially Aesculapius and Cypris, be indulgent to thee, for under their joint protection nothing can go amiss.” “Welcome to Rome, and may thy rest be sweet after the war,” answered Petronius, extending his hand from the folds of the soft linen which covered him. “What news from Armenia? And while thou wert in Asia didst thou happen to po to Bithynia?” : For a period Petronius had himself been the governor of Bithynia, and had administered the province with firmness and justice. Inasmuch as this activity presented a curious contrast in the character of one noted for indolence and lux- urious tastes, Petronius was fond of referring to his services to the State, since they showed not only what he was able to do, but what he might have been, had he so wished. QUO VADIS. 5 “I did go to Heraclea,” answered Vinitius. “I was sent there by Corbulo for reinforcements.” “Ah, Heraclea! There it was I knew a girl from Colchis for whom I would give all the divorced women I know— Poppaea included. But how long ago that was! Let us talk of other things: what news of the Parthians? Between ourselves, they bore me, the Vologeses, the Tiridates and Tig- ranes—all those barbarians who are in the habit of going on all fours at home, as Arulenus says, and who affect to be hu- man beings only with us. Rome talks much of them, how- ever, for the reason, probably, that she is afraid to talk of anything else.” “This war fares badly, and but for Corbulo it might have ended in defeat.” “Corbulo? By Bacchus, a genuine war-god, a veritable Mars. A great general, and withal an irritable, blunt, thick- witted fellow. In spite of it all I like him—if for nothing else than because Nero fears him.” “Corbulo is no fool.” “Perhaps thou art right; but what difference does that make? As Pyrrho says, stupidity is no worse than intelli- gence, and cannot be told from it.” Vinitius continued to talk of the war, but when Petronius again closed his eyes, and the young man noticed his uncle’s weary, drawn face, he changed the subject of conversation, and inquired with solicitude concerning his health. Petronius once more raised his eyelids. How was his health? So-so. He did not feel perfectly well. He did not feel so badly off, to be sure, as young Sis- sena, whose sensibilities were so dulled that, in the morning, when he was taken to the bath, he would have to ask whether he was sitting or standing. No, he did not feel well. Vini- tius commended him to Aesculapius and Cypris. But he, Pe- tronius, did not believe in Aesculapius. It is not even known whose son that Aesculapius was, whether Arsinoe’s or Cor- onis’s; and when the mother is in dispute, what is there to say of the father? In these days who will guarantee his own father? Petronius burst out laughing, and added: “Two years ago I sent three dozen fat live cocks and a golden cup to Epidaurus. Canst thou imagine why? Said I to myself, whether it do good, or no good, it can do no harm. X am of the opinion that those who bring offerings to the 6 QUO VADIS. gods, reason just as I do. All, with the possible exception of the mule drivers travellers hire at the gate of Capena. In addition to Aesculapius I accidentally had some business with some of his kind last year when my kidneys were out of or- der. They prescribed a night’s sleep within the walls of a temple. JI knew them for rogues, but even then I asked my- self, what harm can come to me from that. Society rests on roguery, and life itself is self-deception. Even the soul is a dream. Nevertheless, one ought to have a certain degree of intelligence to be able to distinguish the errors that are pleas- ant from those that are not. I direct that my sweat room shall be heated with cedar wood sprinkled with ambergris, because while I am alive I prefer perfumes to stenches. As for Cypris, to whose good graces thou hast also commended me, I know enough about her protection to have introduced shooting pains in my right foot. But for all that she is a good goddess. I foresee the time, sooner or later, when thou also will be bringing white doves to her altar.” “Thou hast guessed right,” answered Vinitius. “I came away scathless from the arrows of the Parthians, but Love transfixed me, in a most unforeseen way, not a mile outside the city gate.” “By the white knees of the Graces, thou shalt tell me about this at length,” said Petronius. “T came to thee particularly for advice,” answered Marcus. The manicures who now began to busy themselves with Petronius interrupted him, and Marcus, at Petronius’s invi- tation, doffed his tunic and plunged into the tepid bath. “Bless me! J did not even ask thee if thy love is re- turned,” said Petronius, as he gazed at Vinitius’s youthful figure, which seemed as if chiseled from marble. “If Lissi- pus had only seen thee thou wouldst be gracing at this very moment the Palatine Gate as a statue of the young Her- cules.” The young man smiled with satisfaction, as he plunged about in the bath, and sent the warm water in an infinitude of sparkling drops over the mosaic which represented Hera at that moment when the goddess begged that sleep might close the eyes of Zeus. Petronius stared at him with the de- lighted gaze of an artist. When Vinitius came out of the bath and, in turn, had given himself into the hands of the manicures, the reader entered, carrying at his chest a bronze tube containing rolls of papyrus. QUO VADIS. 7 “Wouldst thou like to listen?” asked Petronius. “Tf it is something of thine own—with pleasure,” answered Vinitius. “Otherwise I would prefer to talk. Poets, now-a- days, button-hole one at every street corner.’ “Right. It is impossible to get past any one of the basili- cas, or baths, or libraries, or book shops, without running into a poet, gesticulating like a monkey. When Agrippa came back from the East, he mistook them for lunatics. That is the way things go at present. Caesar is writing verses, there- fore every one is imitating him. Only one thing is forbid- den: To write better verses than Caesar’s, and for that rea- son I fear somewhat for Lucan. As for me, I write prose with which, moreover, I neither regale myself nor others. The reader is about to read the lines of the ill-fated Fabri- cius Veiento.” “Why ill-fated?” “Because he has been commanded to amuse himself in the character of Odysseus and forbidden to return to his house- hold gods till he receives a fresh command. In one respect, however, this Odyssey will not be as hard as Ulysses’s—his wife is not at all like Penelope. It is, I think, superfluous to explain to thee that the command was stupid. But in this place appearances are the only things that count. Fabricius wrote a wretched, tiresome book; but for all that every one is reading it with rapture, now that the author is exiled. From every quarter all one hears is, it is a scandal, a scandal. Possibly Fabricius has exaggerated a trifle, but I assure you, knowing our city and its heads of families and its women so well, that his account is paler than the reality. But that fact does not prevent his readers searching for allusions to them- selves with terror, and to their friends with delight. At Avirnus’s bookstore there are a hundred clerks kept copying the book at dictation—it is an assured success.” “Did any of thy escapades get into it?” “Of course. But the author fooled himself, because he did not see that I am at once much worse and less stupid than he has represented me. You see we have here long since lost the faculty of distinguishing what is moral from what is immoral. For my part, I am of the opinion that no distinc- tion need be made, although Seneca, Musonius and Trasca pretend to see one. But for me it is a matter of indifference. By Hercules! I speak my mind openly. But I have persist- ently held to one point of superiority, which is that I do not 8 QUO VADIS. confound what is ugly with what is beautiful. And this is, for instance, something our Bronzebeard, the poet, the driver, singer, dancer and historian does not understand. “Nevertheless, I am sorry for Fabricius; he is a good com- panion.” “Conceit ruined him. Every one suspected him, yet no one was certain. He could not restrain himself and gave the whole thing away in confidence.” ‘Didst thou hear the story about Rufinus?” “No.” “In that case let us go into the cool room. We will cool off there and I will tell thee the tale.” They entered the cooling room. In the centre a fountain arising from a pale rose-colored basin diffused the perfume of violets. Seating themselves in an alcove, covered with a silken fabric, they began to breathe in the coolness. For a few moments neither spoke. Vinitius dreamily gazed at the statue of a bronze faun who, as he inclined over a nymph’s arm, tried eagerly to kiss her on the lips. After an interval he said: “There is one who knows the truth. That certainly is the best that life has to give.” “Yes—to a degree. But that is not the only thing thou art fond of—thou likest war, for instance, to which I am not drawn, for the reason that in the camp one’s finger nails break and lose their rosy tint. However, every one of us has his weakness. Bronzebeard likes singing—especially his own songs, and old Scaurus his Corinthian vase, which stands at the foot of his bed, and which he kisses when he cannot sleep. He has destroyed the lip of the vase with his kisses. I say, dost thou not write verses?” “No, I have never been able to write even a single hexa- metre.” “And dost thou play the lute and sing?” “No.” “And dost thou drive a chariot?” “Once I competed in the hippodrome at Antioch, but un- successfully.” “In that case I will make my mind easy on thy account. Which faction didst thou belong to in the circus?” “To the Green.” “Now I am perfectly satisfied, and the more so since, al- though thou art not as rich as Pallas or Seneca, thou art nev- QUO VADIS. 9 ertheless well off. Dost thou see that, with us at present, while it is good if one can write verses, or sing to the lute, declaim, or compete in the circus, it is still better, and im- measurably safer, for one not to write verses, nor to play, nor to sing, nor to compete in the circus. The most useful thing of all is to know how to be enthusiastic when Bronzebeard is enthusiastic. Thou art a handsome young fellow, there- fore, the only thing that threatens thee is that Poppaea may fall in love with thee. But she has had too much experience. She learned quite enough of love with her first two husbands; with her third she has other plans. Knowest thou that fool of an Otho still loves her insanely. Far away upon the Span- ish cliffs he walks and sighs. He has lost his former habits, and has become so fastidious about his person that it does not take him more than three hours a day to dress his hair. Who could think of such a thing—especially of Otho?” “T understand him,” answered Vinitius, “but in his place I should have acted otherwise.” “How exactly?” “TI should have formed faithful legions from the native mountaineers. The lberians make excellent soldiers.” “Vinitius, Vinitius, 1 was almost ready to tell thee that thou wouldst have been incapable of such a thing. And dost thou know why? Because that, although such things are done, they are not even hinted at. For my part, in his place I should have laughed at Poppaea, laughed at Bronze- beard, and should have formed legions for my own use, not of Iberian men, but of Iberian women. But more particu- larly would I have written epigrams, which, unlike that unfortunate Rufinus, I would have read to no one.” “By the way, thou wert going to tell me about him.” “J will do that in the anointing room.” But in the anointing room Vinitius’s attention was di- verted by the beauty of the slave women who awaited the bathers. Two of these, negresses who reminded one of ebony statues, began at once to anoint their bodies with Arabian perfumes; others, Phrygians, capable hair dressers, held in their hands, soft and flexible as serpents, polished mirrors of steel, and combs; while two others, Grecian women from Cos, who were beautiful as goddesses, waited till the time should come to arrange the gentlemen’s togas in graceful folds. “By Zeus, the cloud scatterer,” exclaimed Marcus Vinitius. “See what thou hast to choose from.” 1 QUO VADIS. “I prefer quality to quantity,” answered Petronius. “My whole household in Rome does not exceed four hundred, and I fancy that a larger number of servants is not required for personal attendance.” “More beautiful bodies, Bronzebeard himself does not own,” said Vinitius, distending his nostrils. Petronius answered with a suggestion of good natured in- difference: “Thou art my kinsman, and I am neither so yielding as Barsus, nor such a pedant as is Aulus Plautius.” At the sound of the last name Vinitius forgot the maidens from Cos, and, raising his head, asked: “What made thee think of Aulus Plautius? Can it be thou dost not know that when I dislocated my arm outside the city, I spent more than two weeks in his house? Plautius happened to be passing at the time of the accident, and when he saw how much I was suffering carried me to his house, where his slave, the physician Merien, cured me. I wished to talk with thee of precisely this thing.” “What is the trouble? Are my fears correct that thou art in love with Pomponia? If this be true, I am sorry for thee. She is not young and she is virtuous. There can be no worse combination. Brr.” “{ did not fall in love with Pomponia—ehue,” answered Vinitius. “With whom then?” “Would that I knew myself. But I do not even know her name, whether it be Lygia or Callina. In the house they call her Lygia, because she is a Lygian by descent, but she also has her barbarous name of Callina. What a wonderful house is Plautius’s. It is filled with people, yet it is as quiet as the groves of Subiacum. In the course of the whole two weeks I was there I did not have a suspicion that there was a di- vinity not far off. But once, at dawn, I caught sight of her bathing in the garden fountain. By the foam from which Venus rose, the morning light passed right through her body. It seemed to me that let the sun but rise, and she would vanish in its light, as the gleam of the morning stars. After this I saw her twice, and since ilien I have been unable to find rest, I know no other desires, I care for nothing that Rome can give me, I want no women, gold, nor Corinthian copper, I want not amber, pearls, nor wine, nor feasting. One thing alone I eagerly long for: Lygia. I confess to thee, Petronius, sincerely, that I am yearning for her, as yearns QUO VADIS. 11 for Paisythea, that dream pictured on the mosaic of thy warm-room. Ceaselessly, day and night I yearn.” “Tf she is a slave, buy her.” “She is not a slave.” “Who then is she? One of Plautius’s freed women?” “Never having been a slave, she could not have been given her freedom.” “What, then, is she?” “T do not know; a king’s daughter, or something like it.” “Vinitius, thou art exciting my curiosity.” “Tf thou wilt listen to me, I will soon satisfy thy curiosity. It will not take long to tell the story. Doubtless thou know- est personally Vannius, the king of the Suevi, who, when he was banished from his own country, lived for many years in Rome, where he made himself a reputation for his luck at dice and his skill in chariot racing. The Emperor Drusus restored him again to his throne. Vannius, who was ac- tually a man of parts, began by ruling well, and was success- ful in war, but later he gradually began to skin not only his neighbors, but his own Suevi. At this Vangio and Sido, his two nephews, the sons of Vibilius, king of the Hermunduri, determined to force him to go back to Rome—to try his luck at the dice.” “T remember, it did not happen so long ago—in the time of Claudius.” “Yes. War broke out. Vannius summoned to his aid the Yazygi; his fond nephews turned to the Lygians, who, having heard of Vannius’s wealth, and tempted by the hope of booty, poured in such multitudes that Claudius Caesar himself be- gan to fear for the safety of his frontier. Claudius, not wish- ing to get involved in a foreign war, wrote to Atelius Hister, the commander of the Danubian legions, to follow closely the course of the war, and not to permit it to disturb our peace. Then Hister exacted of the Lygians that they should bind themselves not to cross the frontier. Not only did they agree to this, but gave hostages, among whom were the wife and daughter of their leader. Thou knowest that the barbarians take their wives and children with them in the field. My Lygia is the daughter of this leader.’ “Where didst thou learn all this?” “Aulus Plautius himself told me. As a matter of fact, the Lygians did not cross the frontier, but barbarians come like a hurricane, and disappear with the same impetuosity. Just 12 QUO VADIS. so vanished the Lygians with their wild bull horns on their heads. They, the Suevi and the Yazygi, Vannius had assem- bled, but their king was killed. In consequence they dis- appeared with their booty, and left their hostages in Hister’s power. The mother died after a short time, and the daughter was sent by Hister to the ruler of all Germany, Pomponius, for the reason that he did not know what else to do with her. At the conclusion of the war with Catti he returned to Rome where, as you know, Claudius allowed him to hold a triumph. At that time the girl walked behind the con- queror’s chariot, but when in his turn Pomponius became perplexed to know what to do with the girl, since a hostage might not be regarded as a captive, he gave her to his sister, Pomponia Graecina, the wife of Plautius. Here in this house, where everything from the host to the chickens in the yard are virtuous, she grew to maidenhood—alas, virtuous as Graecina herself, and to be so beautiful that in compari- son to her even Poppaea seems like an autumn fig to an apple of the Hesperides.” “And what then?” “T repeat, that from the instant I saw how the rays of light shone through and penetrated her body, I fell desper- ately in love with her.” “Consequently she is transparent, like a sea lamprey or a young sardine?” “Do not laugh, Petronius. But if thou hast been led into a misunderstanding by my speaking so freely of my passion, remember that bright clothes often cover deep wounds. 1 must confess to thee that when I was returning from Asia, I slept a night in the temple of Mopsus in the hope that a revelation might come to me in my slumber. And indeed while I slept Mopsus himself appeared to me, and declared that love would work a great change in my life.” “T have heard that Pliny says he does not believe in the gods, but does believe in dreams—and perhaps he is right. My jesting does not prevent my thinking at times, that there exists only one divinity—eternal, omnipotent, and creative— Venus Genitrix. It unites souls, and bodies, everything. Love it was who called the world from chaos. Whether he did well, is another question, but since it is so, we must of necessity acknowledge his might, although one need not be thankful for it.” “Ah, Petronius, it is easier to talk philosophy than to give good counsel.” QUO VADIS. 13 “Tell me what is it thou particularly wishest?” “T wish to have Lygia. I wish that these hands of mine which now only embrace the air, might hold her and press her in their embrace. I wish to breathe her breath. If she were a slave, I would give Aulus for her a hundred maidens, with feet whiter than chalk, as sign-that they had been for the first time exposed for sale. I wish to have her in my house till my head is as white as the summit of Soracte in winter.” “Though she is not a slave, yet because she belongs to Plautius’s family, and because she has been forsaken by her parents, she may be regarded as a foster-daughter. Had he wished, Plautius might give her to thee.” “Clearly thou knowest not Pomponia Graecina. Both are bound up in her as in their own daughter.” “Indeed, I know Pomponia—a veritable cypress tree. Were she not the wife of Aulus, she might have been hired as a professional mourner. Ever since Julia’s death, she has not doffed her mourning; in a word, she looks as if while still living, she were wandering over the asphodel-strewn meadow. Moreover, she is a woman who has had only a single hus- band—which makes her a phoenix among our much-divorced women. By the way, didst thou hear that a phoenix has actually appeared in Upper Egypt? ‘The thing happens not oftener than once in five hundred years.” “Petronius! Petronius! We will talk of the phoenix some other time.” “Then hearken to me, dear Marcus. I know Aulus Plau- tius, who, although he disapproves of my manner of life, yet regards me with a certain attachment; and, perhaps, rates me above others, for he knows that I have never been an informer, as for instance, were Domitius Afer, Tigellinus, and the whole gang of Bronzebeard’s* friends. While mak- ing no pretensions of being a stoic, I have more than once turned away in disgust from certain acts of Nero’s on which Seneca and Burrus have looked with indulgence. If thou thinkest I can do something for thee with Aulus—I am thy servant.” “Tt seems to me, thou canst. Thou knowest how to in- fluence him, and thy resources are inexhaustible. Think over the case, and speak with Plautius.” "#Nero’s name was originally L. Domitius Ahenobarbus. As Ahenobarbus, meaning Bronzebeard, the name clung to him as an appropriate sobriquet, 14 QUO VADIS. “Thou exaggeratest both my influence and my resource- fulness. However, if that is all thou wantest of me, I will speak to Plautius when he returns to Rome.” “They returned two days since.” “That being the case, let us go into the dining-room, where our breakfast is waiting, and when we have pulled ourselves together, we will have them take us to Plautius’s.” “Thou hast always been good to me,” exclaimed Vinitius with fervor, “but now there is nothing left for me but to set up thy statue among my lares—a fine one, like that over there— and make offerings to it.” He turned to the statues which adorned one of the walls of the perfumed chamber, and designated the one which represented Petronius as Hermes, with a staff in his hand. “By the light of Helios,” he added, “if the god-like Alex- ander was like to thee, I marvel not at Helena.” This exclamation in an equal degree breathed sincerity and flattery, for although Petronius was older, and physically not so well developed as Vinitius, his face seemed hand- somer. The Roman women not only went into ecstacies over the delicacy of his mind and taste, for which reason they called him the arbiter of elegance, but also over his figure. This was reflected even on the faces of the two maidens of Cos, who were at present engaged in arranging the folds in his toga. One of them, Eunice by name, who cherished a secret passion for Petronius, gazed in his eyes with tenderness and adoration. But he, without even looking at her, smiled at Vinitius and began to quote to him by way of reply Seneca’s epigrain about women: “Animal impudens, etc.” When he had finished, Petronius, laying his hand on the young man’s shoulder, led him into the dining-room.. In the anointing-room, the two Greek girls, the Phrygians and the two negresses were making ready to gather together the perfumes. But on the instant, from behind the drawn curtains of the cold room, protruded the heads of the bath- ing masters, and a cautious call was heard. One of the Grecians, the Phrygians, and both of the negresses imme- diately disappeared behind the curtain. The time of mirth and revelry had come in the baths. The superintendent did not restrain the slaves, because he himself had not infrequently taken part in similar orgies. Petronius, moreover, also had his doubts about them, but QUO VADIS. 15 being an indulgent man and one not fond of criticising, looked upon the revels through his fingers. Hunice remained alone in the anointing-room. She lis- tened for a time to the sound of the voices and laughter retreating towards the sweat-room; then she took the bench ornamented with amber and ivory, on which Petronius had just been sitting, and carefully moved it over to his statue. The anointing-room was filled with sun-light, and the bright reflection of the many-colored marble slabs with which the walls were covered. Eunice mounted the bench. When she found herself on a level with the statue, she threw her arms impetuously around its neck; then, throwing back her golden hair and pressing her rosy body against the white marble, she ardently covered with kisses Petronius’s cold mouth. CHAPTER II. After breakfast, as Petronius called it, in spite of the fact that the friends sat down at table when simple mortals had long since finished their noon-day meal, Petronius proposed a short nap. It was still much too early for visiting, he thought. There are, to be sure, persons who begin to visit their friends at sun rise, holding that the custom is sanc- tioned by antiquity and is truly Roman. But he, Petronius, considered it barbarous. The best of all times for visiting is after noon, but not earlier than when the sun sinks towards the temple of Jupiter Capitolinus, and begins to throw oblique shadows on the Forum. It is usually still very warm in the autumn, and people are fond of sleeping after eating. At this time it is pleasant to listen to the murmur- ing of the fountain in the great hall, and when one has taken the thousand obligatory steps, to muse in the purplish light sifted through the purple of the half-drawn awning. Vinitius agreed with him. They walked up and down, talking in an off-hand way of the gossip from the palace on the Palatine, and the city; and carelessly reasoning of life. After a time Petronius retired into the sleeping-room, but did not sleep long. At the end of a half hour he returned, 16 QUO VADIS. and when he had ordered verbena to be brought him, began to smell it and to rub it on his hands and temples. “Thou canst imagine,” said he, “how stimulating and refreshing this is. Now I am ready.” , The litters had already been waiting long. They took their seats and directed that they should be borne to the Patrician Quarter, to the house of Aulus. Petronius’s villa was situated on the southern slope of the Palatine hill near what is called the Carinae. The shortest way thither lay through the Forum. However, as Petronius wished to visit Master Idomeneus’s jewelry shop, he directed that they should carry them through the Apollinis Quarter and the Forum in the direction of Sceleratus Quarter, on the corner of which there were all sorts of booths. The stalwart negroes raised the litters and started on the way, preceded by slaves, called runners. For a certain time Petronius was silent; he kept raising his verbena-perfumed palms to his nostrils, and was evidently thinking of some- thing. Afterwards he said: “Tt occurs to me that if thy forest nymph be not a slave nothing prevents her from leaving Plautius’s house, and tak- ing up her abode with thee. Thou wouldst surround her with love, and shower riches upon her, as J do upon my divine Chrysothemis, with whom, between ourselves, I am satisfied—at least, as well pleased as she is with me.” Marcus shook his head disapprovingly. “Why not?” asked Petronius. “If worst came to worst, the case would go to Caesar, and thou mayest be certain that, irrespective of my influence, our Bronzebeard would take thy side.” “Thou dost not know Lygia,” answered Vinitius. “In that case permit me to ask, if thou thyself knowest more of her than her appearance? Hast thou talked with her? Hast thou told her thy love?” “I saw her first at the fountain, and afterwards I met her twice. Do not forget that while I was in Aulus’s house, I lived in an extension intended for guests—and that with my dislocated hand I was not able to be present at the family table. Only on the eve of the day I announced my departure did I find myself with Lygia at supper, but I did not succeed in exchanging even a word with her. I was forced to listen while Aulus told stories of his victories in Britain, and after that to a discussion of the failure of the small estates in QUO VADIS. 17 Italy, to prevent which Licinius Stolo was still striving. In fact I do not know whether Aulus is capable of talking of anything else; and do not fancy that we shall be able to escape it, unless thou preferest to hear about the effeminacy of the times. They raise pheasants in their bird house, bué do not eat them, being convinced that with every pheasant eaten the downfall of the Roman power is brought nearer. The second time I met her by the cistern in the garden. She had a reed in her hand, the end of which she was dip- ping in the water and sprinkling with it the iris growing about. Look at my knees! By Hercules’s shield! they did not shake when the Parthian rushed with howls upon our ranks—but at the cistern they quaked. And, embarrassed as a boy who still wears an amulet on his neck, my eyes alone prayed for indulgence, as for a long while I was not able io utter a word.” Petronius gazed at him with an expression almost of envy: “Fortunate fellow!” said he, “no matter how bad the world or life may be, there is one thing that remains eternally beautiful—youth.” Then he asked: “So thou didst not speak to her?” “Oh, no! When I had got myself a little under control J said J was on my way back from Asia, that I had sprained my hand outside the city gates, but now that the time had come when 1 must leave this hospitable roof,.I was per- suaded that to suffer under it was more delightful than to divert oneself elsewhere, and to be ill there more consoling than to be in health away from it. She followed my words, herself confused, her head bent down, marking something the while with the reed on the yellow sand. Then she raised her eyes, looked again at the lines she had drawn, as if pre- paring herself to ask me something—and then suddenly ran away, like a Dryad from a stupid faun.” “She must have beautiful eyes.” “Like the sea, and I was drowned in them exactly as if in the sea. Believe me, the Archipelago is not so blue as her eyes. In a moment Plautius’s little boy ran up and asked me something, hut 1 did not understand what he wanted.” “OQ, Minerva!’ exclaimed -Petronius, “take from this youth’s eyes the bandage with which Eros has bound them— lest he dash his head on the columns of the temple of ae 18 QUO VADIS. Then he turned to Vinitius: “Listen, thou spring bud on the tree of life, thou first green shoot of the vineyard. Better than take thee to the house of Plautius let me order them to carry thee to the house of Gelotius, where there is a school for young men who know nothing of life.” “T don’t understand thee.” “But what did she write on the sand? Was it the name of Love, or, perchance, a heart transfixed with his arrow, or something of that sort by which thou mightest learn that the Satyrs had already whispered the secrets of life in the nymph’s ear? Is it possible thou didst not examine the marks?” “From the time when I put on the toga more time has passed than thou thinkest,” answered Vinitius. “Before little Aulus ran up I carefully examined the marks, for well I know that the girls of Greece and Rome frequently write on the sand things which their lips know not how to speak However, guess, guess what she had drawn?” “Jf it was not what I have supposed, I will not guess.” “A fish.” “A what?” “JT say—a fish. Does not that signify that cold blood still runs in her veins? I do not know. But thou, who hast named me a spring-time bud on the tree of life, dost not thou, in truth, know better than I how to interpret this sign?” “Beloved! Ask Pliny about that. He knows everything about fish. Old Apicius, if he were still alive, might per- chance also be able to tell you something about it. Not for nothing did he during his life eat more fish than could be gathered together in the Bay of Naples.” The conversation was interrupted by the litters arriving in a crowded street, where the noise of the multitude pre- vented further talk. Passing the Apollinis Quarter they turned to the Boarium, and thence to the Roman Forum. The Forum in fair days, before sunset, was filled with loi- terers, who assembled in multitudes to saunter among the columns, to tell stories, to learn the news, to stare at the litters borne past with their distinguished occupants, to rub shoulders in the jewellers’ shops, in the book stalls, in the money changers’, in the shops where were sold silk, bronze, and every possible sort of thing. The houses occupying a QUO VADIS. 19 part of the market extending towards the Capitol were filled with these shops. Half of the Forum immediately under the cliffs of the Capitol was already plunged in dark- ness, while the columns which adorned the temples above were drowned in a splendor of gold and blue. The columns standing on a lower level cast their long shadows on the marble slabs. So great indeed were the number of columns standing about everywhere that the eye lost itself among them as in a forest. These buildings and columns seemed to have jammed themselves together. They were piled one on the other, they ran right and left, they ascended the hills, took refuge on the walls of the Capitol, or clung one to the other like trees, large and small, thick and thin, golden or white—now blooming under the architrave with acanthus blossoms, now ornamented with Ionic spirals, now capped with a simple Doric square. On the forest glistened colored triglyphs; out of tympans stepped the sculptured figures of gods, winged golden four-horse chariots struggled as it were to fly from their pediments into the air—into the imperturbable blue which overspread this city of crowded temples. Through the middle and along the edges of the market surged the populace. The throng as it wandered under the arches of the basilica of Julius Caesar, or sat in the steps of the temple of Castor and Pollux, or sauntered about the little temple of Vesta, resembled as it moved against this extensive marble background, a variegated swarm of butterflies or beetles. Above, along the enormous ressaut on the side of the temple dedicated to Jovi Optimo, Maximo, new waves began to surge; the Romans were listening to the orator on the platform in the Rostrum square; here and there the calls of the pedlers were heard, as they sold fruit, wine, or water mixed with the juice of figs; the invitations of the fakers praising wonder-working nostrums; of diviners seeking out treasure, of the interpreters of dreams. Some- where above the noise of the conversation and the hawker’s cries were to be distinguished the sound of the sistrum, the Egyptian sambuca, or of Grecian flutes; in other places the sick, the pious and the afflicted were bringing offerings to the temples. Among the people flocks of doves flew down on the marble pavement, and threw themselves eagerly on the proffered grain; like variegated or dusky spots in motion these flocks now rose in the air, with a loud flutter of wings, now again alighted in a place vacated by the crowd. From 26 QUO VADIS, time to time the people stood aside to make way for the litters in which were to be seen the painted faces of women, or the heads of senators or patricians with features as it were congested and enfeebled by existence. The multitude, composed of members of many different tribes, called to them by name, adding a nickname, a bit of ridicule or praise. Into the disordered groups at times companies of soldiers or guards, enforcing order in the streets, forced their way, proceeding with measured tread. On all sides Greek was heard quite as frequently as Latin. Vinitius, who had not been in the city for a long time, gazed with a certain curiosity on the human ant-hill, and on the famous Roman Forum, lording it over this multitude hailing from the four corners of the earth, and at the same time submerged in it. Petronius, divining his companion’s thought, called the Forum “The nest of Knights without the Knights.” Indeed, the real Romans were completely lost in that throng, composed of the representatives of every race and nationality. In it there appeared for an instant inhabitants of Ethiopia, enormous, light-haired denizens of the far North, Britons, Gauls, and Germans, squint-eyed immigrants from Seres, people from the Euphrates, and from India, with brick-stained beards; Syrians from the banks of the Orontes, with black insinuating eyes, dried out. like bones; nomads from the Arabian deserts; Jews with sunken breasts, Egyptians with changeless, indifferent smiles on their faces, Numidians and Africans; Greeks from Hellas, who governed the city on an equality with the Romans, but held sway through science, art, wisdom, and knavery; Greeks from the Islands, from Asia-Minor, Egypt, Italy, and Narbonic Gaul. Among the throng of slaves with pierced ears were not a few freedmen, idle people whom Caesar amused, clothed and even fed at his own expense; not a few voluntary immigrants had flocked here, attracted to the huge city by the possibility. of living without labor, and by expectations of success, and usurers, and priests of Ser- apis with palm branches in their hands, priests of Isis to whose altars were brought more offerings than to the temple of the Capitoline Jupiter, and priests of Cybele carrying in their hands the golden fruit of the maize, and priests of wandering divinities, Eastern dancers in shining mitres, venders of amulettes, snake-charmers and Chaldean sooth- sayers, and finally a considerable number of vagrants without QUO VADIS. a1 any occupation, who weekly turned to the store-house on the other side of the Tiber for bread, who fought for lottery tickets in the circus, spent their nights in chronically ram- shackle houses on the quarter beyond the river, and sunny warm days under porticos, in the filthy taverns of the Suburra, on the Milvian bridge, or before the villas of the distinguished Romans, whence, from time to time, the leav- ings from the slaves’ table were thrown to them. Petronius knew the throng well. From every quarter the cry: “It is he,” reached Vinitius’s ear. Petronius was beloved for his liberality; but still more had his popularity increased after the Romans learned that he had appealed to Caesar for an annulment of the sentence of death pronounced against all the slaves of the prefect Pedanius Secundus, without distinction of age or sex, because one of their num- ber, driven to desperation, had killed the tyrant. Petronius had, to be sure, stated in public that the case concerned him personally not at all, and that he had gone before the Em- peror in his private capacity, as the arbiter of elegance, because, while a barbarous slaughter of the kind was worthy of the Scythians, it was not of Romans, and offended his aesthetic sensibilities. Nevertheless, the multitude, outraged at the punishment, adored Petronius froin that time. But he did not care for this popularity. Petronius did not forget that Britannicus, whom Nero poisoned, was also beloved of the mob, as well as Agrippina, assassinated at Caesar’s com- mand, and Octavia, who, after her veins had been opened, had been suffocated in a warm bath on the Panditaria, and Rubellius Plautus, who had been banished, and Thrasea, who lived in daily expectation of a sentence of death. The disposition of the populace were consequently better counted an ill-omen, and, skeptic that he was, Petronius was super- stitious. His detestation of the multitude was two-fold: he detested it as an aristocrat, and as a man of culture. In his opinion those who smelt of dry beans carried in their shirts, who were always hoarse and sweating from playing “mora” on the street crossing, and in the peristyles, did not deserve to be called human beings. For this reason, Petronius giving no heed to the applause and the kisses wafted to him, told Marcus the story of the killing of Pedanius, and he ridiculed the fickleness of the street shouters who applauded Nero as he was going to the temple of Jupiter Stator the very day after they had expressed their indignation at his ee QUO VADIS. tyranny. At Avernus’s book shop he ordered the litter to halt, and descending bought an illuminated manuscript, which he gave to Vinitius. “Here is a gift for thee,” he said. “Thanks,” answered Vinitius. When he had examined the title he asked: “The Satiricon? Is it something new? Whom is it by?” “Tt is mine. But I am not minded to follow in Ruffinus’s tracks, whose story I was about to tell thee; nor in the tracks of Fabricus Veiento, therefore no one knows of this. Tell no one of it.” | “But thou hast said thou dost not write verses,” said Vini- tius looking over the manuscript, “and here I observe prose and verse side by side.” “When you read it pay attention to the description of the feast of Trimalchion. As for verses, they disgust me since Nero began to write them. When Vitelius wants to ease his stomach he uses little ivory sticks which he thrusts down his throat; others for the same purpose use flammingo feathers steeped either in olive oil or in a decoction of some sort of grass possessing the same properties; but my unique remedy is to read Nero’s verses. Afterwards I can praise them, if not with a clear conscience, at least with a clean stomach.” Having said this he again stopped the litter at the jeweler Idomeneus, and when he had arranged the question about the precious stones, directed that they proceed straight to Aulus’s house. “On the way,” said he, “I will tell thee the story of Rufinus as an instance of that to which self-conceit may bring an au- thor.” But before he began his story the litters turned into the Patrician Quarter, and they found themselves before Aulus’s dwelling. A young and muscular gate-keeper opened before them the door leading to the main entrance, over which a caged magpie received the guests with a piercing greeting of “Welcome!” On their way from the second vestibule to the court Vini- tius asked: “Didst thou notice that the door keeper here goes un- chained?” “?Tis a strange house,” answered Petronius in an under- tone. “Thou probably knowest that Pomponia Graecina has been suspected of belonging to a superstitious sect of the QUO VADIS. 23 East, that worships a person called Christus. It appears that Crispinilla, who cannot forgive Pomponia for being satis- fied during her life with a single husband, performed the kindness. A woman with a single husband! At present in Rome it is casier to find a plate of Noricum mushrooms. She was tried before a domestic court.” “Thou art right, it is truly a strange house. Afterwards I will tell thee what I have seen and heard while in it.” They entered the great hall. The slave standing at the entrance sent the butler to announce the visitors. Mean- while, servants presented them with chairs and placed stools under their feet. Petronius, who had never been in the house, imagined that in it there reigned an eternal gloom; he consequently looked about him with surprise, and even with a feeling of disappointment, as he observed that the court produced on the contrary a pleasing impression. From above, through a large opening, fell a sheaf of bright light, which broke into a thousand sparks in the fountain. A four- sided basin with a jet of water in the centre, designed to catch the rain in bad weather, was surrounded by anemones and lilies. It was evident that the persons in the house loved lilies; they grew in thick clumps of white and red blossoms; there were also many sapphire-colored irises whose tender leaves were silvered by the spray. Among the moist moss, which concealed the lily pots, and the dense overgrowth of verdure were descried bronze statues of children and sea birds. In one corner a bronze roe inclined her greenish head, turned gray by the moisture, to the water as if wishing to drink. The floor of the court was ornamented with mosaic. The walls, part faced with reddish marble, and in part deco- rated with paintings representing trees, fishes, birds and griffins, caressed the eye with their play of color. The cas- ing of the doors leading into the side chambers were orna- mented with tortoise shell and ivory. Beside the doors against the walls stood the statues of Aulus’s forefathers. Everything evidenced a peaceful plenty, far removed from luxury, but full of dignity. Petronius, who lived in a style immeasurably more luxur- ious, could not find a single thing that offended his taste. He was about to point this out to Vinitius when the door-keeper suddenly pulled aside the curtain separating the hall from the terrace and Aulus Plautius appeared in the distance rap- idly approaching. 24 QUO VADIS. He was a man declining toward the evening of life, with grizzled, yet vivacious, head, and an energetic face, a trifle short, but suggesting in spite of that, the head of an eagle. For the time being his face wore an expression of surprise; the unexpected visit of Nero’s friend, companion, and confi- dant alarmed him somewhat. Petronius was a man too observant and worldly, not to notice this. Therefore, after the first greetings he declared with all the eloquence and amiability he could summon, that he came to express his gratitude for the hospitality shown in this house to his sister’s son; that gratitude alone had prompted the visit, and that his long acquaintance with Au- lus had inspired him with this audacity. Aulus in return assured him that he was welcome. As for the gratitude, he, Aulus, considered himself in his debt, as although Petronius of a truth would not guess what service he had rendered him. A In fact Petronius did not guess. To no purpose did he raise his nut-brown eyes, did he strain his mind in an effort to recall the slightest service he had shown Aulus, or any one else. He could remember none—except that it might be the one which he was about to render Vinitius. Perhaps something of the kind had happened in spite of himself and without his knowing it. “T love and admire Vespasian, and you saved his life when he was unfortunate enough to fall asleep during one of Caesar’s recitals.” “He slept to his own good fortune,” replied Petronius, “in that he did not hear the verses. I will not deny, however, that this blessing might not have turned out unfortunately. Bronzebeard was for dispatching a Centurion to him at once to advise him in a friendly way to open his veins.” “And thou, Petronius, laughed him out of it.” “Yes, or to be more truthful, I did the contrary. I told him that Orpheus knew how to lull the wild beasts to slum- ber—consequently his triumph would have been still more complete if he had succeeded in putting Vespasian to sleep. It is possible to reprove Ahenobarbus, provided that to a modicum of reproof there be added a large amount of flattery. Her Imperial Highness, Poppaea, understands this very well.” “Alas, such is the way of the times,” observed Aulus. “Two of my front teeth are missing—knocked out by a stone thrown by a British slinger—on this account I whistle when QUO VADIS. 25 I speak. Nevertheless I consider the days spent by me in Britain the happiest of my life.” “Because they were victorious,” Vinitius hastened to add. But Petronius, fearing that the veteran might begin his long tales of the wars changed the topic of conversation “In the environs of Praeneste the inhabitants have found a dead wolf cub with two heads, and three days ago, during thestorm, the lightning knocked off a corner of the temple of Luna— an unusual phenomenon so late in the fall. One Cotta, who told me this, went on to say that the priests of the temple of Luna regard this as a sign of the fall of a city, or at least the ruin of a great house, which ruin may only be prevented by extraordinary sacrificial offerings.” Aulus, when he had heard what Petronius said, remarked that portents of that kind ought not to be disregarded. No wonder that the gods have been angered by the incalculable evils; and in such cases qne must offer propitiatory sacrifices. To this Petronius objected: “Thy house, Plautius, is not particularly great, although many live in it; and my house, although, indeed, much too large for so unworthy an owner, is in itself, also, not large. But if ruin threatens as great a house, as, for instance, the Domus Transitoria, is it not worth our while to make offer- ings to save it?” Plautius made no answer to this question. And his si- lence offended Petronius because, although he had lost the capacity of distinguishing good from evil, he had never been a spy—and it was possible to speak to him without fear. Therefore he again changed the conversation, and started to praise Plautius’s house and the excellent taste displayed in all the details. “Tis an old homestead,” answered Plautius. “TI have al- tered nothing in it since | inherited it.” The curtain separating the hall from the covered terrace was thrown aside and the house was open to view through its entire extent, so that, looking through the terrace and the peristyle and hall behind it, the gaze reached to the gar- den itself, which, as seen from a distance, looked like a bril- liant picture in a dark frame. From the garden the sound of happy children’s voices were brought to the court. “Ah, commander,” cried Petronius, “allow us to enjoy at shorter range this genuine laughter, which now-a-days it is given to one to hear but rarely.” ob QUO VADIS. “Willingly,” answered Plautius, rising from his chair. “That is my little Aulus and Lygia playing ball. As for the laughter, I suppose, Petronius, that thou spendest thy whole life in pleasure.” . “Tife deserves to be laughed at, therefore I laugh at it,” replied Petronius. “That laughter, however, sounds differ- ent.” “As for that,” added Vinitius, “Petronius does not laugh during the day, rather he laughs all night.” Talking thus, they passed through the whole extent of the house and found themselves in the garden, where Lygia and little Aulus were playing ball. Slaves, called spheristae, who were especially appointed for this game, picked the balls up from the ground and handed them to the players. Petronius cast a passing glance at Lygia. Little Aulus, seeing Vinitius, ran up to ask after his health. The young man inclined his head as he passed the girl, who stood with a ball in her hand, her hair slightly disordered and somewhat out of breath and flushed. In the garden dining-room, upon which the ivy, vine and honeysuckle threw their shade, sat Pomponia Graecina. The visitors hastened to greet her. Petronius, although he had never visited Aulus’s house, knew her, as he had met her at Antistia’s, the daughter of Rubelius Plautus, and also in the houses of Seneca and Polion. He could not conceal a cer- tain surprise which her sad, but agreeable face, the nobility of her bearing, her movements and speech, inspired in him. To such a degree did Pomponia contradict his ideas of wo- men, that even this man, corrupt to the marrow, self-confi- dent as no one else in Rome—this man not only felt a cer- tain admiration for her, but even lost, when at times he was in her presence, his self-confidence. And now, as he was thanking her for her care of Vinitius he involuntarily ad- dressed her as “Lady’—a title which never came to his mind when conversing with Calvia Crispinilla, Scribonia, Valeria, Solona, or with other women of the great world. When he had greeted her and expressed his gratitude, Petronius fell to complaining that Pomponia so seldom left her home; that she was not to be seen either in the circus or in the amphitheatre. Laying her hand on her husband’s she answered him calmly. “We are both growing old, and are beginning to appreciate the quiet of our home.” QUO VADIS. 27 Petronius was about to reply, when Plautius added in his whistling voice: “And we feel ourselves becoming more and more strangers among people who call even our Roman gods by Greek names.” “For some time past the gods have been converted into mere figures of speech,” replied Petronius lightly. “So, since the Greeks have taught us rhetoric it is easier for me to say, for instance, Hera than Juno.” When he said this he turned his gaze toward Pomponia, as if to explain, that in her presence he could think of no other divinity; then he started to complain of what she had said of old age. To be sure people grow old quickly—but not those who lead her kind of life. Besides there are faces of which Saturn seems to remember nothing. Petronius spoke with a certain degree of sincerity, for Pomponia Graecina, although she had already passed the meridian, nevertheless retained a fair freshness of face; and, as she possessed a small head and delicate features, presented at times, in spite of her sombre dress, her sedateness and pensiveness, the impression of a quite young woman. In the interval, little Aulus, who had become extraordinar- ily friendly with Vinitius while he was in the house, came up to the young patrician to invite him to play ball. Lygia herself followed the boy into the dining-room. Under the ivy shade, with the light sparkling and trembling on her face, she seemed to Petronius to be much more beautiful than he had first seen her, and, in very fact, nymph-like. Still, without exchanging a word with her, he rose, and, bowing, began to quote in place of the customary greeting, the words in which Odysseus saluted Nausicaa: “Tf thou art one of the gods, queen of the broad heaven, then only from Artemis, the great daughter of Zeus, can come the beauty of that face, and the dignity of that stature. If thou art born of mortals, if thou art under the power of the destiny of the living, then blessed beyond words thy _ father and thy mother, and blessed be thy brothers.” Even Pomponia was delighted with the exquisite courtesy of this man of the world. Lygia listened in embarrassment. Her face flushed. She dared not lift her eyes. But little by little a mischievous smile began to play about the corners of her mouth and her face reflected the struggle going on within between maiden modesty and a desire to answer. The 28 QUO VADIS. latter evidently won, for, looking suddenly up at Petronius, she answered him in the very words of Nausicaa. She spoke without taking breath, and in a tone of voice suggestive of the class room: “Stranger, thou art neither wicked nor dull.” Then turning quickly she ran away like a frightened bird. Now came his turn to be surprised. He had not expected to hear Homer’s verses from the lips of a girl who, according to Vinitius, was of barbarian birth. He glanced in perplex- ity at Pomponia, but she could not give any explanation, for she herself smilingly observed only the pride with which the elder Aulus’s face was illuminated. He could not hide his satisfaction. In the first place, he loved Lygia as his own daughter; in the second, despite his old Roman prejudices, which compelled him to decry the new fashion of using the Grecian language, he none the less counted a knowledge of it a crown of social culture. He himself had never been able to learn Greek well, and was secretly distressed at it. Therefore he was glad that this grand gentleman and writer, who was prepared to consider his house as little more than barbarian, had been answered in the language and verses of Homer. “We have a teacher—a Greek,” said Plautius, turning to Petronius. “He instructs our little one, and the girl over- hears the lessons. She is a mere chit, but a worthy one, and my wife and I have become very fond of her.” Petronius looked through the green of the ivy and the honeysuckle at the young people playing ball. Having laid off his toga, retaining only his single tunic, Vinitius was throwing a ball which Lygia caught as she stood opposite. with uplifted hands. At first she had not impressed Petron- ius, to whom she appeared scrawny. But in the dining room she impressed him quite differently. She would, he thought, make a good model for Aurora, and, as an expert, he dis- cerned that she possessed some peculiar latent charm. He observed her in detail, and appraised everything on its merits; the rosy transparent face, the fresh mouth, created as it were, for kissing, the eyes blue as the azure sea, and the alabaster whiteness of her forehead, and the sumptuousness of her dark hair, with its coils giving forth a reflection of amber or Corinthian copper, and the delicate neck, and the “divine” roundness of her shoulders, and the litheness, the pose of her whole body which breathed the youth of May and QUO VADIS. 29 of budding flowers. In him spoke the artist and devotee of beauty who felt that under the statue of this maiden might be written the word “Spring.” Suddenly he remembered Chrysothemis, and Petronius was ready to laugh with dis- gust. She seemed to him strangely faded, with her hair be- sprinkled with golden powder, with her blackened eyebrows, like a withered, falling rose. But still all Rome envied him his connection with Chrysothemis. Then he compared Pop- paea to Lygia, and likewise this renowned beauty seemed to him soulless as a waxen mask. In this girl with her Tanag- rian features, there inhered not only Spring, but the efful- gent spirit of life which radiated through her rosy form, as light from a lamp. “Vinitius is right,” he reflected, “and my Chrysothemis is old, old—old as Troy.” Then turning to Pomponia Graecina and pointing to the garden said: “T now understand, Lady, that with two such beings, home seems dearer than the circus, and the feasts in the palace on the Palatine.” “Yes,” answered she, looking aside at little Aulus and Ly- ia. ‘ The old commander began to tell the girl’s history, and what he had heard many years ago from Atelius Hister about the Lygian tribe that lived in the dark north. The young people having finished their game of ball had been for some time walking along the sandy paths of the garden. Against the background i myrtle and cypresses they seemed like three white statues. Juygia held little Aulus by the hand. When they had strolled for a short time they sat down on a bench beside the fish pond situated in the centre of the garden. Little Aulus almost immediately ran away to frighten the fish in the transparent water, and Vinitius resumed the conversation, begun while they were rma “Yes,” said he, in a low hesitating voice, “scarcely had ¥ thrown aside the robe which the children of free horn citizens wear till they are seventeen, than they sent me to the legions in Asia. I had no knowledge of Rome, of life, or of love. I had learned by heart a few verses of Anacreon and Horace, but could not, like Petronius, quote verses when the mind is mute with ecstasy and cannot express itself in its own words. When I was a boy I was sent to the school of Musonius, who used to tell us that happiness consists in desiring what the 30 quo VADIS. gods wish—and depends consequently upon our will. But I think that there is another more sublime and sweeter hap- piness which does not depend on our will, which love alone can give. The gods themselves are striving to obtain it. Therefore, I who have not yet put love to the test, follow their example, Lygia, and I, also, seek that one who would desire to give me bliss.” He paused. For a time nothing was heard save the gentle splashing of the water into which little Aulus was throwing stones to frighten the fish. Soon Vinitius again spoke, in a softer and lower voice: “Thou hast probably heard of Titus, the son of Vespasian? It is related of him that when little more than a boy, he fell so deeply in love with Veronica, that grief almost brought him to the grave. I am capable of such love, Lygia. Wealth, glory, power—all are smoke, vanity. A rich man can find another still richer; the famous man is cast in the shadow by the greater glory of another; the mighty may be conquered by one more mighty. But can Caesar, himself, or one of the gods, seek to know greater delight, can he feel happier than a mere mortal when at his breast a beloved breast is breath- ing, when he kisses beloved lips. Consequently loves makes us equal with the gods, Lygia.” She listened, disturbed, astonished, and yet as if she were hearkening to the sounds of a Grecian flute or a lyre. At certain moments it seemed to her that Vinitius was singing a marvelous song, which poured itself into her ear, set her blood surging, strove to freeze her heart, frightened yet filled with an uncomprehended joy. But in addition it seemed to her that he spoke of something which was already latent in her, but something which she could not explain. She felt that he was arousing in her something which had been sleep- ing in her heart, and that from that instant, confused dreams began to dispose themselves in a form which was becoming more definite, more fascinating, more beautiful. Meanwhile the sun had long passed the Tiber and stood low over the Janiculum hill. A purple light illuminated the motionless cypresses, as if permeating the whole air. Ly- gia raised her light blue eyes—eyes that seemed just to have been awakened from sleep to Vinitius, and all at once, in the glow of the sunset he bent over her withanentreaty trembling in his gaze, and appeared to her more beautiful than any human being, or any of the gods of Greece or Rome whose QUO VADIS. 31 statues she had seen on the pediment of the temple. He gently seized her arm, above the elbow, and asked: “Canst thou not guess, Lygia, why I tell thee this?” “No,” she whispered, so low that Vinitius could scarcely hear her. But he did not believe her, and drawing her arm still more vigorously, he would have pressed her to his heart, which, in the glow of passion awakened by the beauty of the girl, was beating like a hammer; he would have made her ardent declarations, were it not that the elder Aulus ap- peared on the myrtle framed path. “The sun is setting,” he said, “be careful of the evening os and do not trifle with Libitina, the goddess of fun- erals.” “Nay,” answered Vinitius, “although I have not yet re- sumed my toga I do not feel the cold.” “But over the hill even now one sees but half the sun’s disk,” continued the old warrior in a warning voice. “We have not here the favorable climate of Sicily, where at even- ing the people assemble in the market square, that they may salute the setting Phoebus with a parting song.” Forgetting that but a moment before he had warned them against Libitina, Plautius began to speak about Sicily, where he had estates and extensive farms, to which he was much attached. He mentioned also that he thought many times of moving to Sicily and there spending the remainder of his life in quietness. “He whose head has been whitened by many winters has no further need of frosts. The leaves are not yet falling from the trees, and the sky smiles on the city lovingly, but when the grape vine grows sere, when the snow falls on the Alban hills and the gods with piercing winds visit the Campania, he, perhaps, might remove with his whole household to his retired country farm.” “Can it be that thou wishest to leave Rome?” asked Vini- tius in alarm. “For a long time I have been striving to that end,” an- swered Aulus, “because it is quieter and safer.” He began again to praise his garden, his herds, his house, hidden in the verdant hills, where buzzed swarms of bees. Vinitius, however, was not tempted by the bucolic picture, and, thinking only that he would be deprived of Lygia, looked aside towards Petronius, as if salvation could come from him alone. Meanwhile Petronius, seated near Pomponia, enjoyed the ww“ 32 QUO VADIS. view of the setting sun, the garden and the people standing in the garden. Against the dark background of the myrtles, their white garments were bathed with the golden reflection of the sunset. The evening light, which had previously em- purpled the horizon, began to change to violet, and then to opal; the zenith of the heavenly dome became lilac colored. The dark silhouettes of the cypresses were defined still more " strictly than in the day—among the people, in the trees and in the whole garden reigned an evening calm. Petronius was astonished by this calm—especially at that of the people. There passed over the features of Pomponia, of Aulus, their son, and of Lygia a something which he had never noticed on the faces which surrounded him daily, or more correctly—nightly. The life led by every one here filled, as it were, the whole soul with light, and instilled it with a certain peace and tranquillity. He reflected with a degree of wonder that there existed a beautyand delight which he, who was constantly seeking for beauty and delight, might not discover. He could hardly disguise this thought, and, turning to Pomponia, he said: “T was considering how unlike is your world to that which Nero rules.” She turned her slight face to the evening light, and replied with simplicity: “The world is ruled not by Nero but by—God.” The conversation was interrupted. Near the dining room in the avenue was heard the footsteps of the old commander, of Vinitius, Lygia and little Aulus. But before they came up Petronius asked: “Which means that thou believest in the gods, Pomponia?” “T believe in God who is one, almighty, all-merciful,” an- swered the wife of Aulus Plautius. CHAPTER IIL “She believes in one God, almighty and all-merciful,” re- peated Petronius, when he found himself again with Vinitius in the litter. “If her God be almighty, life and death are in his power; but if he be all-merciful then justly does he send death. Then, wherefore, does Pomponia mourn Julius? By QUO VADIS. 33 mourning for Julius she rebukes her God. I will repeat this course of reasoning to our Bronzebearded ape since I deem myself the equal of Socrates in dialectics. As regards women, I agree that each of them has three or four souls, but not onc of them has a reasoning soul. Pomponia ought to reason with Seneca or Cornutus on the essence of their great Logos. Let them summon the shades of Xenophanes, Parmenides, Zeno, and Plato, who are as wearied in the Cimmerian re- gions as a finch in a cage. I wanted to speak to her and Plautius about something else! By the sacred belly of the Egyptian Isis! If I should have told them frankly the pur- pose of our coming, their virtue would surely have begun to ‘thunder like a copper shield struck with a stick. And I did not determine to tell, nor did I dare to! Wilt thou believe, Vinitius, I dared not? Peacocks are very beautiful birds, but their cry is too piercing. I was frightened, dreading the ery. I ought to praise thy taste. A genuine ‘rosy-fingered Aurora” And dost thou know of what she reminded me besides?—Spring! not our Italian Spring, when apple trees are rarely covered with blossoms, and olive trees are un- changingly gray, but. that Spring which I happened to see in Switzerland—young, fresh, vividly green. By this pale moon, I wonder not at thee, Marcus. Be assured that thou hast fallen in love with Diana, and that Aulus and Pomponia are able to lacerate thee as in ancient times the dogs lacerated Actaeon.” Vinitius bowed his head in silence for a time. Then in a voice husky with passion he began: “I desired her before, but now my desire is still greater. When I touched her arm a flame swept through me. I must have her. Were I Zeus, I would surround her with a cloud, as he did Io, or I would descend on her in the form of rain, as he did on Danae. I would continue to kiss her on the lips until they smarted. I would desire to hear her scream in my arms! JI am ready to kill Aulus and Pomponia, and capture her and carry her away into my house. I will not close my eyes to-night. I will order that one of my slaves be beaten, and I will listen to his groans—” “Calm thyself,” said Petronius. “What desires! Like those of a carpenter from the Suburra.” “Tt matters not to me what thou sayest. I must possess her! I have come to thee for aid, but if thou canst do nothing, I know what is left for me to do. Aulus considers 3 34 QUO VADIS. Lygia his daughter; then why shall I regard her as a slave? If there is no other way, let her wind the door of my house with thread; let her anoint it with wolf’s fat, and sit as my wife at my hearth.” “Calm thyself, thou mad descendant of the consuls! We bring barbarians tied to our carts not for the purpose of marrying their daughters. Beware of extreme measures. Use first of all the simple, becoming means and leave thyself and me time for reflection. There was a time when Chryso- themis seemed to me a daughter of Jupiter, yet I did not marry her. Nero did not marry Actea, though they feigned that she was a daughter of King Attalus. Calm thyself! Do not forget that Aulus and his wife have no right to retain her, if Lygia is willing to leave their house for thee. And know that not alone art thou burning with desire; Eros hath lit in her also a flame of passion. I noticed that, and I am an observer to be trusted. Summon thy patience. Everything can be accomplished. But I have thought too much to-day, and I am tired of thinking. However, I promise thee that T shall consider thy love case to-morrow. I should not be Pe- tronius if I could not find some remedy.” Again there was silence. At length Vinitius said, more calmly: “J thank thee, and may fortune bless thee.” “TTave patience.” “Where didst thou order us to be borne?” “To Chrysothemis.” “Happy man, to possess the woman thou lovest.” “TI? Dost thou know what amuses me about Chrysothe- mis? This, that she is untrue to me with my own freedman, Theocles, and imagines that I do not notice it. There was a time when I loved her, now I am merely amused by her lies and her stupidity. Let us go together to her. If she commences to coquette with thee, and draw letters on the table with wine-steeped fingers, know that I am not jealous.” They gave command to be carried to Chrysothemis. In the vestibule Petronius placed his hand on Vinitius’ shoulder, and said: “Wait; it seems to me I have found a way.” “May the gods all reward thee!” “Yes, yes! I think it will go without a hitch. Knowest thou what, Marcus?” QUO VADIS. 35 “T hearken to thee, my wisdom.” “After a few days the divine Lygia will taste the gifts of Demeter in thy house.” “Thou art greater than Caesar!” enthusiastically exclaimed Vinitius. CHAPTER IV. Petronius was as good as his word. The day after his visit to Chrysothemis he slept till evening. Then he directed that he should be carried to the Palatine Hill, where he had a private conversation with Nero. The results of this conver- sation were not long in coming to light. On the third day a centurion with a small legion of pretorian soldiers ap- peared before Plautius’s house. In that period of lawless and bloody deeds such messengers were generally heralds of death. From the moment when the centurion knocked with his hammer at Aulus’s gate, and the guard of the court announced the presence of soldiers in the vestibule, a sudden terror seized the entire house. The family surrounded the old commander. There was no doubt that peril threatened Aulus especially. Pomponia, throwing her arms about his neck, clung to him with all her might, while she whispered words which were almost unintelligible. Lygia, her face white as a sheet, kissed his hand; little Aulus clung to his toga. From the corridors, from the apartments on the upper floor reserved for the servants, from the domes- tics’ room, from the baths and the arches of the lower dwell- ing, from the whole house, in short, crowds of slaves of both sexes began to pour forth. Cries of “Alas! alas!” and “Miser- able me!” were heard repeatedly. The women began to cry; some of the slaves were already scratching their cheeks, while others covered their heads with their handkerchiefs. Only the old commander, who had accustomed himself for many years to look death in the face, preserved his self-com- posure. His small, aquiline face was like stone. After he had ordered his servants to cease crying, and to return to their rooms, Plautius said, “Leave me alone, Pomponia. If my end has come, we have yet time to say good-by.” He pushed her gently away. Pomponia cried: 36 QUO VADIS. “T pray to God I shall share death with thee, Aulus.” Then kneeling, she began to pray with the fervor which could be inspired only by fear in behalf of one beloved. Aulus went into the hall, where the centurion was waiting for him. It was the old Caius Hasta, his former subordinate, and his companion in arms in the wars in Britain. “T greet thee, General,” said he. “I bring thee a command _and a greeting from Caesar; here are the tablets and the signet certifying that I come in his name.” “My thanks to Caesar for his greeting, and I shall fulfill his commands,” answered Aulus. “I greet thee, Hasta; tell me what commands thou bringest to me.” “Aulus Plautius,” began Hasta, “Caesar has learned that in thy house is living the daughter of the Lygian king, who during the time of the divine Claudius was given to the Romans as a hostage that the boundaries of the empire should never be violated by the Lygians. The divine Nero is thank- ful to thee, commander, for the hospitality shown her 30 many years, but not desiring to burden thy house any longer, and considering that this girl, as a hostage, ought to be under the protection of Caesar himself, and the Senate, he com- mands that thou deliver her to me.” Aulus was too hardened a warrior, and too valiant a man, to permit himself to answer a command by lamentations, use- less words and complaints. Yet on his forehead there ap- peared a wrinkle of sudden anger and sadness. Years ago the British legions had trembled before Aulus’s eyebrows, contracted in this way. For a moment fear was reflected in Hasta’s face. But now, before Caesar’s command, Plautius felt disarmed. He looked for a time at the tablets and sig- net, and raising his eyes towards the old centurion, said calmly: “Wait thou, Hasta, in the hall until the hostage is delivered to thee.” When he had said this, he went to the other end of the house, in the room where Pomponia, Graccina, Lygia and little Aulus were awaiting him with alarm. “Death threatens none, nor banishment into far-off islands,” said he. “Nevertheless, Caesar’s messenger is a herald of misfortune. Lygia, it concerns thee.” “Lygia?” exclaimed Pomponia, perplexed. “Yes,” returned Aulus. Turning to Lygia, he began: QUO VADIS. ae “Liygia, thou hast been brought up in our house, as our child. Both Pomponia and I love thee as our own daughter, but thou art a hostage, confided by thy nation to Rome; and the guardianship over thee belongs to Caesar, and now Caesar takes thee from our house.” Plautius spoke calmly, but in a strained, changed voice. Lygia listened to his words, her eyes opening and shutting in bewilderment, not understanding what was the matter. Pomponia’s cheeks turned pale. At the door leading from the corridor to the salon appeared the terrified faces of the female slaves. “The will of Caesar must be fulfilled,” said Aulus. “Oh, Aulus!” exclaimed Pomponia, throwing her arms about the girl as if to protect her, “it would be better for her to die!” Lygia, leaning on her breast, repeated, “Mamma, mamma,” not finding in her agony any other words. Aulus’s face contracted again with wrath and grief. “If I were only alone in the world,” said he gloomily, “I would not. surrender her alive, and my relatives would have this very day to bring offerings to Jupiter Liberator. But I have no right to ruin thee and our son, who may live to see happier days, so I will apply to Caesar to-day and will entreat him to change his mind. Whether he will listen or no I wot not. But now, Lygia, farewell. Know thou that both Pomponia and I have always blessed the day when thou first sat at our hearth.” He put his hand on her head. Despite all his efforts to preserve his calm, when Lygia turned her tearful eyes upon him, and, catching his hand, began to cover it with kisses, Aulus’s voice vibrated with the deep grief of a parent. “Farewell, our joy and light of our eyes!” he cried. Turning quickly he went into the hall so as not to surrend- er to an emotion unworthy a Roman and a general. Meanwhile, Pomponia, conducting Lygia to her bed room, began to console an.l encourage her with words which had a strange scund in this house, whicre in an adjoining room stood the sanctuary of the household deities and the altar on which Aulus Plautius, true to ancient custom, made offerings to the domestic gods. “The hour of trial has come. Virginius stabbed his daugh- ter to save her from Appius; Lucretia redeemed her shame with the price of her life. Caesar’s house is a den of corrup- ty 38 QUO VADIS. / Xion, vice, and crime. But we, Lygia, have no right to eom- mit suicide. We submit to another law, more sublime and more holy, and this law permits us to defend ourselves from sin and infamy, even if we have to pay the price of death and torture. It is by far a greater glory for a person to come out pure from the house of infamy. Our world is such a den, but, fortunately, our life is short, and the real life begins after the resurrection from the dead, beyond which not Nero rules, but Mercy, and where pain is effaced by delight, and tears by joy.” Then she began to speak of herself. Yes, she was quite calm, but there were painful wounds in her heart. Her husband’s moral vision was not penetrating, his soul did not glow with a single ray of eternal light. She could not even bring up her son in the spirit of truth. And when she reflected that this condition of things might be prolonged to the end of her life, and that then might come a moment of separation, a hundred times more terrible than that tem- porary one over which they were lamenting, she could not imagine herself happy without them even in heaven. And she had already spent many sleepless night in tears and pray- ers, imploring pardon and mercy. But she brought hersuffer- ings to God; she waited and hoped. Even now, when a new blow struck her, when the command of the tyrant took from her a dear one, whom Aulus called the light of their eyes, Pomponia still hoped, believing that there was a power above Nero’s, and a mercy greater than his wrath. She pressed the girl’s head still more closely to her breast. Lygia dropped to her knees, and, hiding her face in the folds of Pomponia’s garment, was silent for a long time. When she finally raised her head, she had in a measure recovered her calm. “Although with great suffering I think of leaving thec, mother, and father,and my brother, yet I know that resistance would not help but would destroy us all. I swear that I will never forget thy words in Caesar’s house.” Throwing her arms again around Pomponia’s neck, Lygia went with her to take farewell of the young Aulus, of the old Greek who was their teacher, of the servant who had uursed her, and all the slaves. One of these, a huge, broad-shouldered Lygian, who in Aulus’s house was called Ursus, or the Bear, and who came to the Roman camp with Lygia, her mother and their slaves, QUO VADIS. 39 fell at her feet, and then, kneeling before Pomponia, said imploringly: “Oh, lady, permit me to follow my mistress. I will serve her and watch over her in Caesar’s house.” “Thou art Lygia’s servant, not mine,” answered Pomponia Graecina. “But I doubt if thou wilt be admitted into Caesar’s gates. How couldst thou watch her?” “T know not. But this I know, iron I can break as if it were wood.” At this moment Aulus Plautius approached them, and when he learned what they were talking of, not only raised no objection, but declared that they had not even the right to detain the Lygian. They were by Caesar’s command send- ing Lygia, as a hostage; therefore, they were also bound to send her suite under Caesar’s protection. At this he whis- pered to Pomponia that, under the name of suite, she might send as many slaves as she deemed necessary. The cen- turion would make no objection. As there was some consolation to Jiygia in this arrange- ment, Pomponia was pleased that she was able to surround Lygia with servants of her choice. Therefore, she assigned her, in addition to Ursus, an old servant, two Greek women from Cyprus who were expert hair-dressers, and two German girls to tend her at her bath. She chose none but followers of the new faith, which Ursus had professed for several years. For this reason Pomponia felt that she might rely on the servants’ devotion, and also consoled herself by thinking that the seeds of truth would soon be sown in Caesar’s house. Besides this, she wrote a few lines to Caesar’s freedwoman, Actea, committing Lygia to her protection. For, although Pomponia had never seen her at the meetings of the ad- herents of the new faith, she was told that Actea never re- fused to assist them, and read with eagerness the Epistles of Paul of Tarsus. She also knew that the young freedwoman was constantly distressed because of the difference between herself and the rest of Nero’s women: in a word, she was the incarnation of the spirit of virtue in the palace. Hasta promised to deliver this letter to Actea in person. And deeming it natural that a king’s daughter should be sur- rounded by her suite, he did not refuse to take the servants to the palace. On the contrary, he was surprised at their small number. All he asked was that the preparations for the start be hastened, fearing that he might be accused of lack of zeal in executing his order. 40 QUO VADIS. The moment of parting came. Pomponia’s and Lygia’s eyes again filled with tears, and Aulus laid his hand on the girl’s head. A moment later, pursued by the cries of little Aulus, who had been threatening the centurion with his tiny fist in defense of his sister, the soldiers conducted Lygia to Caesar’s palace. When the old commander had ordered that a litter should be gotten ready for him, he went into the picture gallery with Pomponia, and said: “Listen, Pomponia. I will apply to Caesar, though I think my effort will be fruitless, and I shall see Seneca, though Seneca’s opinion counts for nothing with him. Petronius and Vinitius have more influence. Caesar probably never heard of the Lygian nation, and if he demanded Lygia as a hostage it is manifest he did so through someone’s influence. It is not hard to guess whose.” Pomponia raised her eyes in agitation. “Petronius’s?” “Yes. There was a brief silence, and the commander continued: “See what it means to let one of these conscienceless and dishonorable persons pass one’s threshold. Cursed be the mo- ment Vinitius entered our house! It is he that brought Pe- tronius. Woe to Lygia! It is not a hostage they want, but a harlot.” From anger, helpless-agitation and pity for his adopted daughter his voice was more than usually husky. For some time he had been trying to conquer his emotion, and his clenched fist indicated how severe was the struggle. “The gods I have honored. But at this moment I think the gods do not rule the world. There is but one divinity, malevolent, vindictive, monstrous, and his name is—Nero!” “Aulus!” exclaimed Pomponia. “In the sight of God, Nero is as a handful of perishable dust.” Aulus strode heavily over the mosaic of the gallery. Many acts of valor he had accomplished, but he had known no great misfortune. Therefore he was not prepared for this unforeseen blow. The old commander was attached to Lygia more deeply than he knew. He could not realize that he was to be deprived of her. Moreover, he felt insulted. A hand which he contemned was over him, yet he knew that he was powerless against it. At length, conquering the anger which had overshadowed his mind, Plautius said: QUO VADIS. 41 “Petronius, I fancy, did not take Lygia from us for Caesar; he would fear Poppaea’s vengeance. Consequently, he took her either for himself or for Vinitius. I shall investigate the case to-day.” Shortly afterwards he was being carried in a litter in the direction of the Palatine Palace, while Pomponia, left alone, went to comfort little Aulus, who was still crying for his sister and threatening Caesar. CHAPTER V. As Aulus had expected, he was denied admittance to Nero’s presence. He was told that Caesar was engaged in singing with Terpnos, the lute player, and that he generally received only such persons as were summoned by him, which meant that Aulus must not hereafter even try to obtain an interview with Caesar. But Seneca, even though suffering from fever, received the old commander with due respect. When he had heard his tale a mournful smile came to his lips as he said: “One service, noble Plautius, I can render thee: I promise not to reveal to Caesar my pity for thee, nor my readiness to assist thee. If Caesar had the least suspicion of this, he would never return Lygia to thee, even were it only to thwart my wish.” Seneca advised him not to apply to Tigeilinus, nor to Vinitius, nor to Vitelius. They were not above bribes, they might be glad to do an injury to Petronius, whose influence they were trying to undermine. But more probably they would tell Caesar how much Lygia was prized by Plautius and his wife. Nero would become all the more unwilling to re- turn her. Then the venerable sage, assuming a sarcastic tone, con- tinued: “Thou hast held thy tongue, Plautius, held it so many years, and Caesar likes not those who are silent. And how couldst thou withstand the fascinations of his good looks, his virtue, his singing and recitations, his chariot driving, and his poems? Why didst thou abstain from rejoicing at the death of Britannicus, and fail to write a panegyric in honor 42 QUO VADIS. of the matricide, and bring thy congratulations when Octavia was suffocated? Aulus, thou hast not the foresight possessed by us who live in the palace here.” Taking a cup he carried at his belt, he filled it at the foun- tain, and moistening his lips, added: “Ah, Nero is grateful. He loves thee because thou hast served Rome, and made his name glorious in the four corners of the earth. Me he loves because I taught him in his youth. For that reason I know that this water is not poisoned, and drink it peacefully. Wine would scarcely be harmless; but if thou art thirsty thou mayest drink this water without fear. The aqueduct brings it from over the Alban Hills, so that were it to be poisoned all the fountains in Rome would be so. Thou seest even in this world one may enjoy a peaceful old age in security. Iam sick—but in mind rather than body.” True it was Seneca did not have the mental courage of such men as Cornutus and Thrasea. His whole life had been spent in indulging and conniving at crime. He felt this him- self; he admitted his adherence to the doctrine of Zeno of Citium; acknowledged that he ought to have chosen another course—and suffered more because of it than from fear of death. Plautius broke in on his self-recrimination: “Noble Annaeus,” said he, “I know how Caesar hath re- paid thee for the care thou gavest him in his youth. But our child has been taken from us at the instigation of Petro- nius. Tell me how to prevail on him, how to sway him, and do thou employ all the eloquence thine old friendship may suggest thee.” “Petronius and I,” answered Seneca, “belong to different camps. I know of no remedies with which to mollify him. No one’s influence prevails on him. Perhaps, in spite of his corrupt nature, he is better than the other rascals that sur- round Nero at present. But to attempt to demonstrate to him that he has done wrong is a profitless waste of time. Petronius long ago lost the capacity of distinguishing good and evil. Prove to him that what he does offends against good taste, and he will be ashamed. When I see him I will tell him his conduct is worthy of a freedman. If that does no good, then nothing will.” “Thank thee even for that,” answered the commander. After this he directed that he should be borne to Vinitius, whom he found practicing fencing with his private master. QUO VADIS. 43 When Aulus saw how the young man was calmly occupying himself with athletics after the attempt against Lygia, he was overwhelmed by rage. Scarcely had the curtain fallen on the departing fencing master than his anger found vent in shrill reproaches and crimination. But as soon as Vinitius heard that Lygia had been carried away, he became so pale that even Aulus could no longer suspect him of being an accom- plice. The young man’s forehead was moist with - sweat. His blood, after surging to his heart, rushed like a hot wave back to his face; his eyes flashed; his lips moved in incoherent questioning. Jealousy and rage buffeted him like a hurri- zane. It seemed to him that from the instant Lygia entered Caesar’s house she was lost to him. But when Aulus men- tioned Petronius’s name, quick as lightning the suspicion flashed across the young man’s mind that Petronius had tricked him, thinking either to curry new favors from Nero by giving him Lygia, or to keep the girl for himself. He could not admit the possibility of anyone seeing her and not being fascinated by her. Quick-tempered, like the other members of his family, a paroxysm of rage deprived him of his reason and carried him away like an angry horse. “Commander,” said he, in a broken voice, “go home and wait for me. Know that were Petronius mine own father, I should avenge this insult against Lygia. Go home and await me. Neither Petronius nor Caesar shall have her.” Turning to the draped wax statues in the court, he shook his fist and exclaimed: “By the faces of the departed, rather would I kill her and myself!” Then he repeated, “Wait for me,” and running from the court, flew like a madman to Petronius, pushing aside every- one he met on the way. Aulus went home somewhat hopeful that if Petronius haal persuaded Caesar to take Lygia away to give her to Vinitius, Vinitius would return her to her foster-parents. He was also cons led by the reflection that if he should not succeed in saving Lygia the insult to her would be avenged by death. He knew Vinitius would fulfill his promises. He was a wit- ness to his rage, and he knew the reputation of the family for passion. He himself, who loved Lygia as a father, would | prefer to kill her than to give her to Caesar; and but for the fear of injuring his son (the last of the old line) he would certainly have done so. Aulus was a soldier, and knew of 44 QUO VADIS. the stoics only by report. But he was not unlike them in character. He preferred death to disgrace. When he reached home he pacified Pomponia, telling her ot his hopes, and both awaited news from Vinitius. At in- tervals, when the approaching steps of the slaves were heard in the hall, they imagined that Vinitius had come, bringing _them their beloved girl, and from the bottom of their hearts they were ready to bless both of them. But time passed, and no news came. Not till evening was a hammer stroke heard on the gate. A slave delivered a note to Aulus. The old commander, who usually liked to make a show of self-control, now took the letter with a trembling hand, and began to read as rapidly as if its contents concerned his whole family. His face was suddenly overcast, as if shadowed by an ap- proaching cloud. “Read,” said he, turning to Pomponia. Pomponia took the letter and read: “Marcus Vinitius greets Aulus Plautius. What has been done was done by Caesar’s will, before which thou must bow thy head, even as do Petronius and I.” They fell into prolonged silence. CHAPTER VI. Petronius was at home. The doorkeeper did not dare to stop Vinitius, who broke into the hall like a tempest. Learn- ing that the master of the house was in the library, he speeded thither. Finding Petronius was writing, Vinitius snatched the reed from his hands, broke it and threw it on the floor. Then he laid his hands upon Petronius’s shoulders and, thrusting his face under his, cried in a hoarse voice: “What hast thou done with her? Where is she?” Then an astonishing thing happened. The elegant and indolent Petronius seized the hands which grasped his shoul- der, and, pressing them in one hand as in a vice, said: “T am weak only in the morning, but in the evening I re- cover my courage. Try to escape. A weaver must have taught thee gymnastics, and a blacksmith politeness.” He said this without any sign of anger, but in his eyes QUO VADIS. 45 there was a hint of boldness and energy. After a few mo- ments he dropped the hands of Vinitius, who stood before him, humbled, abashed, yet with furious rage in his heart. “Thou hast a hand of steel,” said the younger man, “but by all the infernal gods, if thou hast betrayed me, I will put a knife into thy throat, even though I should have to do it in the chambers of Caesar.” “Let us talk calmly,” replied Petronius. “Steel, as thou seest, is stronger than iron; therefore, though from each of thy arms both of mine could be made, I am not afraid of thee. But I grieve over thy rudeness and if human ingratitude could astonish me, I should be astonished at thy ingratitude.” “Where is Lygia?” “In a house of ill-fame; in other words, in the house of Caesar.” “Pctronius!” “Calm thyself. Sit down. Caesar promised to fulfill two requests of mine, first, to get Lygia out of the house of Aulus, and, secondly, to give her to thee. Didst thou conceal a knife in the folds of thy toga? Perhaps thou dost want to stab me? I advise thee to postpone the attempt for a few days, otherwise thou wouldst be thrown into prison, and Lygia would weary herself in thy house.” Silence ensued. For some time Vinitius looked at Pe- tronius with astonished eyes; then at last he said: “Pardon me; I love her—love blinds my mind.” “Look at me, Marcus. The day before yesterday I said to Caesar: ‘My nephew hath fallen so deeply in love with an emaciated maiden in the house of Aulus, that his house has been turned by his sighs into a steam bath. Neither thou,’ said I to Caesar, ‘nor I, who understand what real beauty is, would give for her a thousand sesterces, but this youth is stupid, and now he has lost his mind entirely.’ ” “Petronius!”” “Tf thou dost not understand that I said it with the pur- pose of protecting Lygia, I am prepared to think that I said the truth. I told Caesar that a man of his aesthetic tastes could not consider her a beautiful woman. Nero, who still looks at everything through my eyes, will not find her beau- tiful. And Poppaea will evidently try to get her out of the palace at the earliest opportunity. And I continued to say carelessly to Bronzebeard: “Take Lygia and give her to Vini- tius. Thou hast the right to do so, because she is a hostage. 46 QUO VADIS. Moreover, in doing this, thou wilt annoy Aulus. So he agreed. He had no reason to dissent, especially as I gave him the opportunity to do an ill turn to decent people. Thou wilt be appointed an official guardian over her. This Lygian treasure will be committed to thy care. Surely thou, as an ally to the brave Lygians, and a true servant to Caesar, wilt not lose the treasure, but wilt do thy best to in- crease it. Caesar, in order to preserve appearances, will re- tain her a few days in his house, and then he will send her to thy island. Fortunate man!” “Ts that true? In Caesar’s house? Is she in no danger?” “Should she have to stay there permanently, Poppaca would mention her name to the poisoner, Locusta, but for a few days she can remain in safety. In Caesar’s house live ten thousand people. Nero may not see her at all, which is the more likely because he has left the matter entirely in my hands. Only a few moments ago a centurion came to me with the information that the maiden had been taken into the palace and delivered into the hands of Actea. Actea is kind and good, and that is why I directed that Lygia be en- trusted to her guardianship. Pomponia Graecina evidently thinks the same, as she has sent Actea a letter. There will be a feast to-morrow in Nero’s house. I have secured a place for thee near Lygia.” “Caius!” said Vinitius, “forgive my rage. I thought thou hadst ordered her to be taken away for thyself or for Caesar.” “T can forgive thy anger. But it is more difficult to for- give thy rude manners, indecent shouts, and thy voice re- minding one of players at street games. I like it not, Mar- cus; and in future mend thy ways. Know that Caesar’s pander is Tigellinus. Know also that if I desired this maiden for myself, I would look straight in thy eyes and say: ‘Vinitius, I have taken Lygia from thee, and I will keep her till I weary of her.’ ” With these words he fastened his nut-like eyes on the eyes of Vinitius with an expression of cold self-confidence. The young Tribune was utterly abashed. “I am guilty before thee,” said he. “Thou art good and magnanimous. I thank thee from my heart. Let me ask only one more question: Why didst thou not command that Lygia be brought directly to my house?” “Because Caesar must preserve appearances. This matter will excite talk at Rome. As we take her as a hostage she QUO VADIS. 47 will remain in Caesdr’s palace until the talk ceases. Then we shall remove her quietly to thy house and the matter ends. Bronzebeard is a cowardly dog. He knows he is omnipotent, yet he tries to give a color of decency to all his actions. Perchance thou art not cool enough to view the case philosophically? I have repeatedly sought to explain why it is that transgression—no matter how powerful and secure be the transgressor, as for instance Caesar—invariably tries to justify itself by law, justice and virtue. Why take this trouble? In my opinion to slay a brother, a mother, or a wife, is an act worthy only of a petty Asiatic king—not of a Roman Caesar. But had I done any of these things, I should not write letters of justification to the Senate. And Nero does write. He is striving to justify his crimes, be- cause he was a coward. On the other hand Tiberius was not a coward, yet he too always strove to justify himself. Why is this? How strange and spontaneous is this homage of Vice to Virtue! And do you know what I think? I think it is so because transgression is ugly, and virtue is beautiful. Ergo, a genuine man of taste is also virtuous. Ergo, I am virtuous. To-day will I make a libation of wine to the shades of Protagoras, Prodicus, and Gorgias. Manifestly the Sophists are of a little use. Listen, I am not through with my argument. I took Lygia from the Auli to give her to thee. Ah, Lysippus would have made marvelous groups of you two! Both of ye are beautiful, consequently what I have done is beautiful. Being beautiful, it cannot be evil. Look, Marcus, thou seest before thee Virtue personified in Caius Petronius! Were Aristides alive, he would have to come to me for a condensed treatise on Virtue, and pay me a hundred minae for it.” But Vinitius, who was more occupied with the facts than with any treatise on Virtue, answered: “T shall see Lygia to-morrow, and after that she shall spend every day in my house ceaselessly till death.” “Thou shalt have Lygia, and I will be accountable to Aulus for thee. He will call down the vengeance of all the gods of the nether world upon me. Would that the creature could take a lesson in declamation as a preparation! However, he will rail against me as my old gate-porter used to rail against my followers—I banished him to the country.” “Aulus has been to see me. I promised to send him news of Lygia.” 48 QUO VADIS. “Write him that the will of the god-like Caesar is the law of the gods, and that thou wilt call thy first son Aulus. We must give him seme consolation. I am ready to ask Bronze- beard to invite Plautius to the banquet. Let him have the pleasure of secing thee next Lygia!’’ “Do not so,” replied Vinitius. “I pity them both, espec- ially Pomponia.” Then Vinitius sat down to write the letter which was to deprive the old commander of his last hope. Before Actea, the former favorite of Nero, even the highest officials had been wont to bow. But even then she did not care to interfere in questions of state. And if sometimes she used her influence over the young emperor, it was only to ask his mercy in someone’s behalf. Modest and amiable, she won the gratitude of many, the enmity of none. Even Octa- via could not hate her. To jealous rivals she seemed of little consequence. All knew that Actea still cherished a sad, pain- ful passion for Nero, a love sustained not by hope, but by the remembrance of a time when Nero was not only younger and more devoted, but was also a better man. It was known that she dwelt only in these memories, and expected nothing of the future. And as there was no fear that Caesar would re- turn to her, Actea was regarded as an inoffensive being. She was consequently troubled by none. Poppaca looked upon her as an obedient servant, so harmless that she did not even insist upon her leaving the palace. Out of regard for his former love, and because he had sepa- rated from Actea without a quarrel, and almost in a friendly fashion, Nero did not deny her a certain respect. When he gave her her freedom he allowed her to remain in the palace; gave her a special apartment with a separate bed room and servants to attend her. And as in their day Pallas and Nar- cissus, though they were made freedmen by Claudius, were not only invited to that l’mperor’s feasts, but, as persons of influence, occupied places of honor, so Actea was sometimes bidden to Caesar’s table. Possibly this was done because of her attractive figure, which was a real ornament to the ban- QUO VADIS. 49 quet. But, in fact, in his choice of table companions, Nero had long since ceased to conform to the rules of decency. An impressive variety of persons of all classes and occupations assembled at his feasts, among them senators—especially those who were ready to play the fool; there were also patri- cians, both young and old, eager for pleasure, luxury and debauchery. These orgies were attended also by women who, although they bore distinguished names, were not above don- ning discolored wigs at night and seeking adventures in the dark streets. Beside the eminent senators reclined priests who when the bumpers were down themselves ridiculed their own gods. Here thronged a motley multitude of singers, actors, musicians, dancers of both sexes, verse-writers declaim- ing their own verses and reckoning how many sesterces will be given them for praising Caesar; underfed philosophers, following with greedy eyes the dishes as they were passed around; famous chariotecrs, jesters, story-tellers and buf- foons—every kind of knave and cheat brought into momen- tary notoriety by fashion or folly. Aimong thein were many whose long hair concealed ears pierced as a sign of servitude. The most distinguished guests partook of the feast with Caesar; the remainder furnished them with amusement while they ate, eagerly waiting for the moment when the servants would allow them to fall upon the remnants of meat and drink. Such guests were supplied by Tigellinus, Vinitius and Vitelius, who were frequently obliged to provide them with clothes befitting Cacsar’s palace. Feeling more at home in it, the Emperor liked society of this kind. The splendor of the court covered this rabble, as if it were gilded and illu- minated with its brilliance. The high and the low of this world, the descendants of glorious families, the descendants of the lowest of street paupers, true artists and the miserable scrapings of talent rushed into the palace to sate their eyes blinded by almost unimaginable luxury, to come near the giver of all favors, mercies and riches, whose whim if it could degrade, could also exhalt to immeasurable heights. And now the day had come when Lygia must take part in a feast of that sort. Fear, uncertainty, agitation, quite natu- ral after such a sudden change in her surroundings contended in her heart with a wild desire to show resistance. She was afraid of the people, the court, and the tumult which ap- palled her, till losing her self control she feared the banquet of whose indecency she had heard from Aulus, Pomponia Grae- 4 50 QUO VADIS. cina, and their friends. Im spite of her youth Lygia knew what vice was, for in those days the knowledge of evil came even to children. She knew that ruin threatened her in the palace. Pomponia had warned her of this when they parted. Possessed of a young and innocent heart, and professing the high principles to which her foster mother had made her devoted, she vowed to her mother and herself, and also to the Divine Teacher whom she not only believed in, but loved with her half-childish heart because of the blessed- ness of his teachings, the agony of His death and the glory of His resurrection, to protect herself against this ruin. Assured that neither Aulus nor Pomponia Graecina would now be responsible for her actions, Lygia began to consider whether it would not be better to resist and not go to the feast. On the one side fear and alarm had spoken loudly in her soul; on the other a desire to display courage and firmness influenced her to run to martyrdom and death. For the di- vine teacher himself commanded one to act in this kind, and had set the example. Pomponia had also told her that the inost ardent of those who believe desire with all their soul a test of this kind and pray to meet it. While still in Aulus’s house Lygia was at times seized with such a desire. She used to imagine herself a martyr with wounds on her hands and snow-white feet, transcendently beautiful, and borne by white angels into the blue sky. And such visions delighted her imagination. In this there was much that was childish, and also something of vanity, which Pomponia condemned. But now when resistance to Caesar’s will would be followed by severe punishment, and the fancied tortures might he turned into realities, there was added to these imaginary tor- tures a curiosity mingled with fear to know exactly how they would punish, and what tortures they would invent for her. When Lygia told Actea of what was disturbing her girlish heart, she stared at her as astonished as if she had heard the voice of one in delirium. Disobey Caesar’s will? Expose oneself at the very outset to his rage? A child incapable of understanding what it is doing could alone act thus. From what Lygia herself had said, it was clear that she was no longer a hostage, but a girl forsaken by her own people. No international law protected her, and even if she had the pro- tection Caesar was strong enough in a fit of rage to overlook such a protection. It had pleased Caesar to take her; he QUO VADIS. 51 could dispose of her as he wished. Henceforth she was in his power, a power greater than any other in the world. “Put thy mind to rest on this point,” said Actea persua- sively to the young girl. “I also have read the epistles of Paul of Tarsus; 1 also know that above the earth is God and a Son of God who rose from the dead, but on the earth Caesar alone rules. Remember this, Lygia. I know that thy creed does not allow of thy becoming what I was, and that to you as to the Stoics, of whom Epictetus has spoken to me, one is authorized tochoose only death when one must choose between death and infamy. But how canst thou foretell that death as well as infamy threatens thee? Hast thou not heard of the daughter of Sejanus. She was a virgin, but at the com- mand of Tiberius she had to pass through infamy before her death, in order to keep the law, against the punishment of virgins. Lygia! Lygia! do not anger Caesar. When the de- ciding moment comes, when thou must choose between in- famy and death, then act as thy true faith commands, but seek not destruction of thine own will, and not provoke to anger the infernal, merciless god.” Actea spoke with deep pity, and even with fire. By na- ture near-sighted, she put her gentle face close to Lygia’s, as if to verify the impression produced by her words. Lygia, throwing her arms with childish confidence about Actea’s neck, exclaimed: “How good thou art, Actea!” Pleased by the girl’s praise and confidence, Actea pressed her to her bosom. Then freeing herself from Lygia’s em- brace, she answered: “My happiness and my joy have passed, but I have done no evil.” She began to move with rapid steps about the room, and to speak bitterly as if to herself: “No, and he was not wicked, either. He considered him- self a good man, and wanted to be good. I know that better than any one. All this came afterwards—when he stopped loving. Others have made him what he is. Yes, others, and—Poppaea.” Her eyelids filled with tears. For some time Lygia fol- lowed her with her blue eyes and then said: “Art thou sorry for him, Actea?” “Tam sorry,” answered the Greek woman, in a low voice. And she resumed her walk, her face overshadowed by sad- ness, wringing her hands as if in pain. 52 QUO VADIS. Lygia continued to ask her timidly: “Dost love him yet, Actea?” “TI do.” Then she added, “No one loves him but me.” There followed a moment of silence, in which Actea strug- gled to repress the emotions aroused by the memory. When finally her face resumed its usual expression of repressed grief, she said: * “Tet us talk of thyself, Lygia. Drop the idea of resisting Caesar’s will. It would be the act of amadman. And calm thyself. I have learned all about this house, and I think that nothing threatens thee at Caesar’s hands. Had he com- manded that thou shouldst be carried off for his own uses, thou wouldst not have been brought to the Palatine Palace. Poppaea is mistress here, and since she bore him a daughter, Nero is more than ever under her influence. Although it was Nero who gave the order that thou shouldst attend the feast, he has neither seen nor asked of thee—consequently, he cares nothing for thee. Perhaps he took thee away from Aulus and Pomponia merely to spite them. Petronius asked me to have a care for thee, and as thou knowest Pomponia asked the same in her letter—evidently they have talked the case over together. Maybe he did so at her request. If so, if Petronius at Pomponia’s request takes thee under his pro- tection, nothing can befall thee. Who knows he may have asked Nero to send thee back to Aulus’s house? I do not know how much Caesar loves him, but I can assure you Cae- sar rarely disagrees with him.” “Ah, Actva,” answered Lygia, “Petronius was at our house before I was carried away, and my mother is convinced that Caesar did this at his suggestion.” “Tf that be true, one ought to be afraid,” said Actea. After a moment’s thought she continued: “Perhaps at a supper Petronius unwittingly mentioned in Nero’s presence that there was a Lygian hostage in Aulus’s house, and Nero, who guards his perogatives jealously, de- manded they surrender, for the simple reason that hostages belong to Caesar. Besides, he does not like Aulus and Pom- ponia. No, J doubt whether Petronius would have resorted to such a method had he wished {o take thee from Aulus’s house. I will not say that Petronius is better than the others that surround Caesar, but he is different from them. Final- ly, is there no one who would intercede for thee? Didst be- come acquainted at Aulus’s with any of those near to Caesar?” QUO VADIS. 53 “T happened to see Vespasian and Titus.” “Caesar likes them not.” “And Seneca.” “Tt is enough that Seneca advises, for Caesar to do the op- posite.” A blush overspread Lygia’s bright face. “And Vinitius?” “T do not know him.” “He has just returned from Armenia, and is a relative of Petronius’s.” “Dost suppose that Nero favors him?” “Vinitius is liked by every one.” “And would he wish to intercede for thee?” “Yes.” Actea smiled gently, and said: “Then thou shalt see him at the feast. At all events, thou must be there. Only a child like thou could think anything else. Besides, if thou wishest to return to Aulus’s house, then thou wilt have an opportunity to ask Petronius and Vinitius to intercede for thee, and get thee the permis- sion to return home. If they were here they would assure thee that it would be madness and ruin to attempt to dis- obey. Caesar, we may suppose, might not notice thy ab- sence, but if he did notice it, and thought that thou hadst dared to disobey his will nothing could save thee. Let us go, Lygia. Hearest thou what noise fills the palace? The sun is setting, and the guests will soon begin to arrive.” “Thou art right, Actea,” answered Lygia. “TI will follow thy counsel.” Probably Lygia could not herself explain how much her decision was influenced by the desire to see Vinitius and Pe- tronius, apart from the curiosity to be present at least once in her life at such a feast, to see Caesar, and the court and the famous Poppaea and the other beauties and all the unheard-of luxury concerning which wonders were told in Rome. But Actea was right, and the girl acknowledged it. Go to the feast she must. Lygia no longer hesitated; necessity and com- mon sense had united themselves to this hidden temptation. Actea took her to her private anointing-room, to anoint and dress her. Although there was no lack of slave women in Caesar’s house, and although Actea had many servants of her own, she decided out of sympathy for the girl whose innocence and beauty had touched her, to dress her herself. 54 QUO VADIS. In spite of her bereavement and her admiration for the epis- tles of Paul of Tarsus it was evident that this young Greck woman had retained the old Hellenic spirit which set physi- cal beauty above anything else in the world. As she undress- ed Lygia she could not refrain from expressing her delight at the lines of her figure, at once delicate and plump, as if formed of roses and mother-of-pearl. Stepping back she gazed with rapture upon this incomparable spring-like beauty. “Lygia,” she exclaimed, “thou art a hundred times more beautiful than Poppaea!” Brought up strictly in Pomponia’s house, where a modest reserve was observed, even when the women were alone, the girl stood beautiful as a charmed dream, harmonious as a work of Praxiteles or a poem, but embarrassed, and blushing from mortification like a rose, her knees pressed together, her hands covering her breasts, her eyes closed. Quickly raising her hands she drew out the pin that confined her hair, and instantly, with a gentle shake of her head, her hair fell about her like a mantle. Approaching and touching her dark hair, Actea said: “What wonderful hair thou hast! I shall not sprinkle it with gold powder; where the braids overlap it gleams itself of gold. Only here and there will I sprinkle a little on—a very little. It will scarcely be noticeable; will look as if a ray of light passed through it. How beautiful must be thy native country where such girls are born.” “T do not remember it,” answered Lygia. “But Ursus has told me there are nothing there but forests, forests, forests.” “But flowers bloom in the forests,” said Actea, as she dipped her hand in a vase containing verbena, with which she rubbed Lygia’s hair. Then with a gentle pressure of the palm of her hand she rubbed her body with Arabian perfumed oil, and when she had finished Actea put upon her a soft, gold-colored, sleeve- less tunic, over which was to go the peplum, or snow-white robe of state. As, however, it was first necessary to arrange her hair, the Greek woman wrapped her in a loose white dressing-gown. When she had made her sit down she gaye her in charge of the women slaves, and, stepping aside, ob- served the process of dressing. Two women put white san- dals embroidered with purple on her feet, lacing them with golden laces crosswise. When her hair had been arranged QUO VADIS. 55 they put upon her a state robe with beautiful soft folds. Then Actea, when she had hung pearls about her neck and touched her hair with gold powder, gave orders to begin her own toilet, the while not ceasing to gaze rapturously at Lygia. She was soon ready, and by the time the first litter arrived at the main gate, Lygia and Actea entered from the lateral portico whence might be seen the main entrance, the inner galleries and court surrounded by a colonnade of Numidian marble. Little by little the number increased of those who passed under the high arch of the gate over which the beautiful four-horse chariot of Lysias seemed to be bearing Apollo and Diana into the air. Lygia was astounded by the mag- nificence of the scene, of which the modest house of Aulus could give her no conception. The last rays of the setting sun illumined the yellow Numidian marble, which gleamed with a golden light and diffused rosy tints. Under the col- umns near the statues of the Danaides, of gods and heroes, passed a throng of men and women, themselves resembling statues draped in their togas, state robes and gowns, falling in picturesque folds, on which glowed the light of the setting sun. The gigantic Hercules, his head still illuminated, but plunged to the chest in shadow, looked down on the multi- tude from aloft. Actea pointed out to Lygia the senators in broad-bordered togas, and colored tunics, with half moons embroidered on their sandals; the patricians and famous artists; Roman la- dies dressed in Roman or Greek or fantastic Oriental cos- tumes, with their hair arranged in the form of towers, pyra- mids, or after the fashion of the statues of the goddesses, low on the head, and ornamented with flowers. Many of the men and women Actea called by name, adding now brief and often terrible characterizations, which filled Lygia with fear, wonder and confusion. A strange world opened before her; its beauty enchanted her eyes, but her young mind could not grasp the contradictions it presented. In the purple sunset light, among these rows of motionless columns vanish- ing in the distance, among these statue-like people there was a sense of great composure. It seemed that demigods free from care, undisturbed and blissful, ought to live among the simple outlines of the marble, but Actea’s low voice revealed the novel and terrible secrets of the palace. There in the 56 QUO VADIS. distance is a portico, its columns and pavement still spotted with the blood which sprinkled the white marble when Cali- gula fell under the knife of Cassius Cheraea; there was his wife killed, and there was his child’s head dashed against a stone; under that wing a dungeon is hidden, in which the younger Drusus gnawed his hand for hunger; there was the elder Drusus poisoned, and there writhed in convulsions of terror Gemellus and Claudius; there Germanicus suffered, everywhere, these walls have heard the cries and groans of the dying, and these very people who are now hurrying to the feast clad in bright tunics, flowers and jewels, may be to-mor- row condemned to death; mayhap on many a face a smile hides fear, anxiety and uncertainty for the following day; mayhap the hearts of these seemingly crowned, composed demigods are at this instant seized by flames of passion, avar- ice and envy. Agitated, Lygia could not follow Actea’s words, and although this strange world more and more de- lighted her eyes, terror oppressed the girl’s heart, and her soul was suddenly seized by an inexpressible, boundless long- ing for her beloved Pomponia Graecina, for Aulus’s peaceful home, where ruled not crime but love. Meanwhile the throng of invited guests continued to pour in from the Apollinis quarter. The uproar and the cries of those who escorted their patrons were heard from behind the gate. The court yard and the colonnades swarmed with Caesar’s slaves and slave women, boys and pretorian soldiers who were guarding the palace. Here and there among the white and dusky faces were seen the black faces of the Nu- midians, with their befeathered helmets, and gilt rings in their ears. Lutes and citheras, and despite the lateness of the autumn, bunches of flowers artificially grown were brought, and hand lamps of gold, silver and copper. The ever-in- creasing hum of voices mingled with the splashing of the fountain, whose roseate jets, falling from above on the mar- ble, broke on the flagging with a sound as of sobbing. Actea stopped to talk; but Lygia continued to stare about her as if expecting to see some one. All at once she flushed. Between the columns appeared Vinitius and Petronius. Beautiful, calm as gods in their white togas, they went to the spacious dining hall. To the girl, discovering these two famil- iar and friendly faces, and especially that of Vinitius among these strange people, it seemed that a heavy burden suddenly fell from her heart. She felt less alone. The inexpressible QUO VADIS. 57 longing for Aulus’s house which a moment before had over- whelmed her became all at once less unendurable. The de- sire to see Vinitius and to talk with him allayed her fears. To no purpose did she rehearse all the ominous gossip she had heard of Caesar’s house, and Actea’s words and Pompo- nia’s warnings, in spite of the warnings and all she had heard she now felt that she should go to the feast, not only because she must, but because she wished to, for the simple reason that she should soon hear the dear and charming voice which spoke to her of love and happiness fit for the gods; which still sounded like music in her ears, and her heart fluttered with joy. Straightway this feeling of joy terrified her. It seemed that she was a traitor to those plain, simple teachings in which she had been brought up, as well as to Pomponia Grac- cina and to herself. To go to the feast of necessity, and to be glad that such necessity exists, were two quite different things. She felt guilty, sinful, ruined. Despair seized her, tears came into her eyes. Had she been alone she would have thrown herself on her knees, would have beaten her breast as she repeated, “Guilty am I; guilty am I” But Actea, seizing her by the arm, led her through the inner rooms of the dining hall where the banquet was to take “ place. A veil fell over her eyes, there was a roaring in her ears, and she could scarcely breathe, her heart beat so fast. She saw as in a dream the thousands of lamps gleaming on the tables and the walls; as in a dream she heard the shouts which greeted Caesar, whom she saw as across a mist. The shouting deafened her; the bright light blinded her; the perfumes intoxicated her, and in her bewilderment she barely noticed Actea as she placed her at the table and sat beside her. After an interval a familiar voice called to her from her other side: “T greet thee, fairest of earthly maidens, and of the skies. I greet thee, divine Callina.” Lygia, recovering herself somewhat, looked round. Vini- tius was sitting beside her. He did not wear his toga, as both convenience and custom required that it be laid aside before the feast. He was dressed simply in a tunic embroidered with silver palms. His bare arms were adorned above the elbows, in Oriental style, with two wide golden bracelets; from the forearm the hair had been carefully removed—smooth but exceedingly muscular it 58 QUO VADIS. was, the arm of a veritable warrior, made for the sword and shield. A crown of roses decked his head, and with his eyec- brows meeting across his brow, and his beautiful eyes and smooth complexion, he looked like the personification of youth and vigor. His beauty so impressed Lygia that though the confusion she had at first felt had vanished, she was scarcely able to answer: “T greet thee, Marcus.” “Fortunate are my eyes that behold thee,” he added; “for- tunate my ears that hear thy voice, more delightful to me than the notes of flute or harp. If I were ordered to choose who should sit at my side—thee or Venus—thee would I choose, my divine maiden.” Vinitius gazed at her as if hastening to satiate his eyes with her beauty; he consumed her with his gaze. His glance glided from her face to her neck, and her bare arms; lingered lovingly on the beauty of her figure; he admired her, en- folded her, devoured her, but with his longing there was mingled a suggestion of bliss, tenderness, boundless admira- tion. “I knew that I should meet thee in Caesar’s house,” he continued. “Nevertheless, when I saw thee, such joy filled my soul that I felt as if I had fallen upon an unexpected for- tune.” Lygia, having recovered herself somewhat, and feeling that he was the only one among all these many people who was near her, began to talk with him and to inquire about every- thing that at first frightened or perplexed her. How did he know that he would see her at Caesar’s? and why was she brought here? Why did Caesar take her away from Pom- ponia? She was terrified, she wanted to go home. She should die of anxiety and alarm but for the hope that he and Petronius would intercede for her with Cacsar. Vinitius said he had learned of her having been carried away from Aulus himself. He did not know why she had been brought hither. Caesar did not account for his actions or his orders to anyone. But she must have no fear, for he, Vinitius, was at her side, and would remain by her. He would rather lose his sight than not see her; he would rather give up his life than to leave her. She had become his soul, therefore he would guard her as his own soul. He would build in his house an altar to her, as to a divinity, and would offer myrrh and aloes, and in the springtime apple blossoms QUO VADIS. 59 and early flowers. If she were afraid to stay in Caesar's house, he could assure her she would not remain there. Although he spoke vaguely, he did not say all he ought, and sometimes said what was not true, yet there was a ring of truth in his words because his fecling for her was actually sincere. He could not master his feeling of downright pity for her; her words went to his heart when she told him how grateful she was, and assured him that Pomponia would love him for his kindness, and she herself would be grateful to him all her life. Vinitius was deeply touched. It seemed that never again would he be able to resist her wish. He shuddered. Her beauty intoxicated him. He desired to pos- sess her, but he was conscious that she was also very dear to him, and that, like a goddess, he might deify her. Besides, he felt an uncontrollable desire to talk of her beauty and of his love for her. The uproar of the feast increased; he there- fore moved nearer to her, and began to whisper words of tenderness and flattery, which, coming from the depths of his soul, had the sound of music and the intoxication of wine. And they did intoxicate Lygia. Surrounded by these strangers, he seemed ever nearer and ever dearer to her, and deserving of her complete devotion and confidence. He soothed her, he promised to rescue her from Caesar’s house, he promised that he would not leave her and would do her wishes. He had, moreover, in Aulus’s house spoken of love and the happiness it could bring. Now he confessed frankly that he loved her, and that she was dearer to him than all others. For the first time in her life, Lygia heard words like these from a man. The more she listened the more she felt that a something that had been slumbering in her was wak- ing, and that her whole being was seized as by a happiness she could not explain—a happiness in which boundless joy mingled with boundless apprehension. Her cheeks began to burn, her heart to beat, her lips parted with amazement. She was alarmed at hearing such protestations, but could not. reconcile herself to losing a single word. Now she dropped her eyes, now she turned her radiant face towards Vinitius, timidly, as if beseeching him to say on. The noise of con- versation, the music, the perfume of the flowers, the Arabian scents, mounted to her head. It was the habit in Rome to recline at the table, but at home Lygia used to have her place between Pomponia and little Aulus. Now near her side was reclining Vinitius, young, athletic, loving, ardent, and she, 60 QUO VADIS. feeling that he was consumed with passion for her, felt at once shame and pleasure. A delicious weakness possessed her; now she felt as if she would faint, now languorous, as if falling into a dream. Vinitius was also affected by her proximity. His face grew pale, his nostrils dilated like those of an Arabian steed. It was evident that his heart was beating with unusual force ‘under his tunic; his breath came short and heavy, and his voice was broken. For the first time he felt how near he was to her. His thoughts became confused; a fire raged in his veins which he had in vain tried to extinguish with wine. It was not wine that intoxicated him, but the beauty of her face, her bare arms, her girlish bosom moving under her gilt tunic, her whole body concealed under the folds of her robe— these intoxicated him more and more. At length he seized her by the arm, as he had already done once before at Aulus’s, and drawing her near to him, whispered with trembling lips: “I love thee, Callina, my divine one!” “Marcus, let me go,” said Lygia. But still gazing at her with eyes dimmed with passion, he continued: “My goddess, love me—” At that instant the voice of Actca, who was reclining at the other side of Lygia, was heard saying: “Caesar is looking at you two.” A sudden anger at both Caesar and Actea seized him. Her words had broken the charm. Even a friend’s voice at such a moment would have sounded disagreeable to the young warrior, but Actea, as he thought, had intentionally tried to interrupt his conversation with Lygia. Raising his head, and looking over Lygia’s arm at the young freedwoman, he said angrily: “The time has passed when thou didst use to recline at the feast at Caesar’s side, and they say that thou art growing blind. How, then, canst thou sce him?” With a suggestion of sadness, Actea answered: “Nevertheless, I can see him. He, too, is near-sighted, and is looking at you through his emerald.” Whatever it was that Caesar had done had caused alarm even among those nearest to him. Vinitius, alarmed in turn, recovered himself and fixed his gaze steadily towards Caesar. Unable at the beginning of the feast to see Caesar distinctly because of her agitation, Lygia ceased to look towards him, QUO VADIN. 61 carricd away by Vinitius’s presence and words. She now turned towards Caesar her frightened and curious eyes. Actea had told the truth. Nero, leaning on the table, with one eye closed, was holding before the other a polished round emerald which he habitually used, and was looking at them. For an instant his glance met Lygia’s, and the maiden’s heart quaked. As a child she had lived on Aulus’s Sicilian estate, and had heard from an old Egyptian slave woman of the dragons that dwelt in the caves of the mountains, and now it seemed to her that the greenish eyes of one of these dragons were gazing at her. Like a frightened child she grasped Vinitius’s arm, and in the quick changing series of discon- nected impressions which passed through her nothing definite could be distinguished. Was that he, the terrible and all- powerful Caesar? lLygia had never seen him before, but she imagined him to be quite different. She had fancied his having a dread-inspiring face and a stony expression of malice in his features. What she saw beforehernow wasalarge head, joined to a thick neck, which from a distance, in spite of its dreadfulness, looked like that of a child. An amethyst- colored tunic cast a bluish shadow upon his broad, short face. His hair, after the manner set by Otho, was arranged in four curls. He wore no beard, as he had shortly before sacrificed it to Jupiter, for which all Rome thanked him, although it was said in secret that he did so because his beard, like that of his whole family, was red. There was something Olym- pian about his forehead, which projected over his brows. Consciousness of power was reflected in his contracted eye- brows. Under that forehead of a demi-god was the face of a monkey, a drunkard, a mountebank—a face vain, ever reflecting his changing desires, fat and swollen, and in spite of his youth, sickly and wrinkled. The face was ominous, and most repulsive. Soon Nero laid the emerald on the table and ceased looking at her. Then the young girl saw his eyes clearly, prominent, blinking in the strong light, glassy, unintelligent, like those of adead man. Turning to Petronius, Caesar said: “Ts that the hostage with whom Vinitius is in love?” “Yes, that is she,” answered Petronius. “What is the name of her nation?” “Tygian.” “Does Vinitius consider her a beauty?” “Dress a rotten olive root in a woman’s state robe, and a QUO VADIS. Vinitius will think her beautiful. But on thy face, match- less judge of beauty, already have I read thy opinion of her. Thou needest not declare thy verdict. Yes, thou art right; she is too withered and thin; a veritable poppy on a slender stalk. But thou, divine aesthete, esteemest the stalk in women, and thou art three times, four times right. The face alone is not sufficient. Much have I learned in thy company, but have not attained to so true a vision, and I am ready to bet Tullius Senecio his sweetheart that—although at a feast, where all are in a reclining posture, it is difficult to judge the entire figure; nevertheless thou hast already said to thy- self: ‘She is too narrow in the hips.’ ” “Too narrow in the hips,” repeated Nero, blinking his eyes. A faint smile hovered on the lips of Petronius. Tullius Senecio, who up to this moment had been conversing with Vestinius, or rather laughing at dreams in which Vestinius believed, now turned to Petronius, and though he had no idea of what they were talking about, he said: “You are wrong; I agree with Caesar.” “Very well,” answered Petronius, “I have been holding that thou hast a glimmer of sense, but Caesar insists that thou art an unmitigated ass.” “Good!? said Caesar, laughing, and turning down his thumb, as was the custom in the circus, to indicate that the gladiator had received a blow and was to be put to death. Vestinius, thinking that the conversation pertained to dreams, exclaimed: “But I believe in dreams, and Seneca once told me that he believed in them also.” “Last night I dreamed that I had become a vestal virgin,” said Calvia Crispinilla, bending over the table. At this announcement Nero clapped his hands and all followed his example, for Crispinilla had been divorced sev- eral times and was infamous throughout Rome for de- bauchery. She was not confused in the least, but calmly added: “What is there to laugh at? They are all old and ugly. Rubria alone looks like a human being, so there would be two of us, though Rubria gets freckled in summer time.” “But admit, Oh pure Calvia,” said Petronius, “that thou couldst become a vestal only in dreams.” “But if Caesar commanded?” “Then I would believe that even the most improbable dreams might come true.” QUO VADIS. 63 “Certainly they come true,” said Vestinius. “I can con- ceive that one may not believe in the gods, but how can any one disbelieve in dreams?” “But predictions?” asked Nero. “It was predicted once that Rome should fall, and that I should reign over the en- tire Orient.” “Predictions and dreams are closely connected,” answered Vestinius. “Once a pro-consul, an utter skeptic, sent a slave to the Temple of Mopsus with a sealed letter which he for- bade any one to open. He wished to see whether the god could answer the question contained in the letter. The slave slept in the Temple in order that a revelation might come to him in a dream. When he returned he related his dream as follows: ‘I saw a youth bright as the sun, and he spoke but one word, “Black.” The pro-consul, hearing this, grew pale, and turning to his guests, disbelievers like himself, he said: ‘Do you know what was written in the letter?’ ” Vestinius paused for a second and raised a goblet filled with wine to his lips. “But what was in the letter?” asked Senecio. “The letter contained this question: ‘Which bull shall I sacrifice, a white or a black one?’ ” The interest aroused by this narrative was interrupted by Vitelius, who had come to the feast in an intoxicated con- dition, and who without reason suddenly burst into senseless laughter. “What is that keg of tallow laughing at?” asked Nero. “Laughter distinguishes men from animals,” said Petro- nius, “and he can furnish no other proof that he is not a wild boar.” Vitelius suddenly stopped his laughter. Smacking his lips, greasy from fat dishes and sauces, he looked inquiringly around among the guests as if he had never seen them be- fore, and raising his cushion-like hands, he said in a hoarse voice: “I have lost from my finger the knightly ring which I inherited from my father.” “Who was a cobbler,” added Nero. Vitelius burst out again in uncontrollable laughter, and began searching for the ring in the robe of Calvia Crispinilla. Whereupon Vestinius began to imitate the screams of a frightened woman. And Nigidia, a friend of Calvia, a young widow with the face of a child and the eyes of a wanton, said in a loud tone: “He is searching for what he has not lost.” 64 QUO VADIS. “And for what would be of no use to him, even if he should find it,” added Lucan. The uproar increased. Crowds of slaves passed around new cuurses. From enormous vases, filled with snow and wreathed with ivy, were brought out small vessels containing various kinds of wine. All drank freely. Upon the table and on the guests roses fell at intervals from the ceiling. Pctronius implored Nero to add dignity to the feast with his song. A chorus of voices supplemented this request. Nero at first refused. It was not a mere question of courage, he eaplained, though this always failed him. The gods knew what the effort cost him each time he appeared before the public. But he was held up in the consciousness that something must be done for the sake of art. Besides, as the powers had gifted him with a voice, he could not allow the gifts of the gods to be wasted. He recognized that his very duty to the state forbade them to be wasted. But to-day he was really hoarse. On the previous night he had placed leaden weights on his chest, but all to no purpose. He was even thinking of repairing to Antium for a breath of sea air. Then Lucan urged him to sing in the name of art and hu- manity. It was known to all present that the divine poet and musician had composed a new hymn in honor of Venus, in comparison with which the hymn of Lucretius was as the howl of a yearling wolf. Let this feast be a genuine feast. So kind a ruler should not expose his subjects to such cruel tortures. “Be not cruel, O Caesar.” “Be not cruel,” repeated all seated near. Nero spread out his hands as a sign that he was compelled to yield. All faces immediately assumed an expression of gratitude, and all eyes were turned towards Caesar. But first he gave a com- mand that Poppaea should be notified that he was about to sing. He informed his auditors that she had not appeared at the feast because she was indisposed. But as no medicine brought her such relief as did his singing, he would regret to deprive her of this opportunity. Poppaea came immediately. She ruled Nero as if he were her subject. Nevertheless, she did not dare to wound his self-love when he appeared in the characte: of a singer, a charioteer, or a poct. Beautiful as a goddess, she entered the room dressed like Caesar, in a robe of amethyst color, and wearing a necklace of large pearls stolen once on a time from QUO VADIS. 65 Massinissa. She was golden-haired and dainty. Though she had been divorced from two husbands, she had the face and manner of a virgin. She was received with applause and shouts of “divine Augusta.” lLiygia had never in her life seen so wondrous a beauty. She could scarce believe her eyes, for she knew that Poppaea Sabina was one of the most corrupt women in the world. She had heard from Pomponia that Poppaea had induced Caesar to murder his mother and his wife. She knew something of her terrible deeds from the gossip of the guests of Aulus. She had heard that Poppaea’s statues had been overthrown at night-time in the city. She had heard of inscriptions whose authors had been condemned to sever- est punishment, which nevertheless still appeared every morning on the walls of buildings in the city. But in spite of all this the notorious Poppaea, who was looked upon by the Christians as the embodiment of evil and crime, appeared so sweet and beautiful to the maiden that she thought that so must look the angels and spirits in heaven. Lygia could not take her eyes from the lovely vision, and an involuntary question slipped from her lips: “O Marcus, can it be possibler” Excited by wine, and evidently impatient because her at- tention was distracted from him, he answered: “Yes, she is beautiful, but thou art a hundred-fold more beautiful. Thou dost not know thyself, or thou wouldst fall in love with thyself lke Narcissus. Poppaea bathes in asses’ milk, but thou, I believe, Venus has bathed in her own milk. Thou dost not appreciate thy value, my sweet. one. Look not at her; turn thy eyes towards me, my heart’s delight! Touch this goblet of wine with thy lips, and I will place mine on the same spot.” Then Vinitius began to push himself closer and closer to Lygia, but she moved nearer to Actea. At this moment silence was commanded, because Caesar had risen. The singer Diodorus had given him a lute of the kind called delta; another musician, named Terpnos, who was to accom: pany Caesar, came forward with an instrument called a nablium. Nero, resting the delta on the table, raised his eyes. A hush of silence fell on the banqueting hall, broken only by the rustle of roses as they continued to fall from the ceiling. Caesar then began to sing, or rather to declaim, his hymn to Venus, to the accompaniment of two lutes. 5 66 QUO VADIS. Neither his voice, though somewhat worn, nor his verses were bad. lLiygia’s conscience began to reproach her again; for the hymn, though in praise of the impure and pagan Venus, seemed beautiful to her, and Caesar himself, with a crown of laurel on his head and his eyes raised to heaven, appeared to her more majestic and far less terrible and re- pulsive than at the commencement of the banquet. The hymn was received with thunders of applause. Hx- clamations of “Oh wonderful, divine voice,” rose on all sides. Some of the women raised their hands and held them thus until the end of the singing, as if they had been petrified with delight. Others wiped the tears from their eyes. The en- tire hall buzzed like a beehive. Poppaea, bending her golden head, pressed Nero’s hands to her'lips, and held_it for some time in silence. Pythagoras, a young Greek of wonderful beauty, the same to whom later the semi-crazy Nero made the priests marry him, with the observance of all the rites, now knelt at his feet. Nero, however, looked attentively at Pe- tronius, whose praises he esteemed above all. The latter said: “As to the music, I believe that Orpheus must be at this moment as yellow from envy as Lucan, who is here present. As for the verses, I regret that they are not worse, that I might find words fitting to praise them.” Lucan did not feel offended at being charged with envy. On the contrary, he cast a grateful glance at Petronius, and feigning ill-humor, began to murmur: “Oh cursed fate, that destined me to live as a contemporary of such a poet. I might have a place in the memory of man and on Parnassus, but now I am quenched as is a night-lamp in the sun.” Petronius, who possessed a wonderful memory, began to repeat portions of the hymn, to cite separate verses, and to analyze the finest expressions. Lucan, as if forgetting his envy, joined his ecstasy to the words of Petronius. Nero’s face reflected a high and unbounded vanity. He pointed out the verses which he considered the finest. At last he fell to consoling Lucan, telling him not to lose heart, for though no one could acquire gifts which were not bestowed upon him at birth, yet the worship which people gave to Jove did not exclude honor for the other gods. Then he arose to escort Poppaea, who being really ill, de- sired to withdraw. Caesar commanded the guests not to leave their places, and promised to return. In fact he QUO VADIS. 67 returned: very shortly to stupify himself with the smoke of incense and to gaze at the further spectacles prepared for the feast by himself, Petronius, and Tigellinus. The guests were constrained to listen to more verses and dialogues in which extravagance took the place of wit. Then Paris, the famous mime, gave a representation of the adventures of Io, the daughter of Imachus. To the guests, and especially to Lygia, who was unused to such spectacles, it seemed that they were beholding miracles and enchantments. Paris, by gestures of his hands and body, succeeded in expressing things that seemed impossible in a dance. His hands made dim the air, creating a bright cloud, living, trembling with voluptuousness, encircling the form of a maiden, thrilled with a spasm of delight. It was not a dance but a picture, disclosing the secrets of love, enchanting and shameless. When at the end of the dance Corybantes with a crowd of Syrian dancing girls began a Bacchic dance to the accom- paniment of harps, lutes, cymbals and tambourines, a dance full of unbridled license, Lygia began to tremble with fear. It seemed to her that a living fire was burning her into ashes and that a thunderbolt ought to strike the house, or that the ceiling should fall down upon the heads of the revellers. But from the golden net fastened to the ceiling the roses were still falling, and the now drunken Vinitius said to her: “T saw thee at the fountain in the house of Auius, and fell in love with thee. It was at dawn, and thou didst think that nobody saw thee, yet I saw thee, and I see thee thus yet, though that robe conceals thee from my eyes. Cast aside thy robe as Crispinilla has done. Behold! gods and men are thirsting for love. There is nothing else in the world. Lay thy head on my breast and close thine eyes.” The blood beat oppressively in Lygia’s hands and temples. She felt as if she were crawling into a pit, and as if Vinitius, who before had appeared so devoted and so worthy of all trust, instead of saving her was drawing her down towards the abyss. She felt angry with him. She began to fear the feast, and Vinitius, and herself. A voice like that of Pom- ponia rang imploringly into her ears: “O Lygia, save thy- self.” But at the same moment something told her that it was already too late; that the one whom such a flame had embraced, who had looked on at everything that had: hap- pened at this feast, whose heart had beaten as hers had while listening to the words of Vinitius, and who shivered 68 QUO VADIS. as she did when he came near her, was lost forever. She began to grow weak. It seemed to her that she must faint, and that something terrible must follow. She knew that, under pain of Caesar’s wrath, no one might rise until he rose; but even did this prohibition not exist, she now had not strength enough to withdraw. It was far yet to the end of the feast. Every now and then slaves brought on new courses, and filled the goblets unceas- ingly with wine. Ona platform there appeared two athletes, to give the guests an exhibition of wrestling. The contest began. The powerful bodies of the wrestlers, shining with olive oil, blended in one mass; bones cracked in their iron arms, their teeth gritted ominously between their set jaws. At times the quick, dull thump of their feet beat on the saffron-strewn floor; again, the athletes became mo- tionless, silent, so that it seemed to the spectators that they saw before them a group chiseled from stone. The eyes of the Romans followed with delight the motions of terribly exerted backs, thighs and arms. But the struggle was soon ended. Croto, the master and founder of the school of gladiators, was rightly considered the strongest man in the empire. His opponent began to breathe quickly, then his breathing became choked, his face assumed a blue tint, and finally blood flowed from his mouth and he fell. A burst of applause crowned the ending of: the struggle. Croto, placing his feet on his opponent’s breast, crossed his great arms and looked about him with the eyes of a conqueror. After the athletes appeared men who mimicked beasts and their voices, conjurors and buffoons, to whom little attention was paid, for wine had dimmed the eyes of the spectators. The feast gradually became a drunken and dissolute orgy. The Syrian damsels who had participated in the Bacchic dance, now mingled with the guests. The music changed to wild and disordered outbursts of harps, lutes, Armenian cymbals, Egyptian cymbals, trumpets and horns. Some of the guests, desiring to speak, ordered the musicians to with- draw. ‘The atmosphere, filled with the odor of flowers and the perfume of oils, with which beautiful boys had anointed the feet of the guests, permeated also with the odor of saf- fron and the exhalations of the guests, became stifling. The lamps burned with a dim flame; the wreaths drooped on the heads of the guests; their perspiring faces grew pale. Vitel- ius fell under the table. Nigidia, stripping herself to the QUO VADIS. 69 waist, dropped her drunken, child-like face upon the breast of Lucan, who also drunk, began to blow the golden powder from her hair, and followed with delighted eyes the particles as they floated upwards. Vestinius, with drunken iteration, repeated for the tenth time the answer of Mopsus to the pro- consul’s sealed letter. Tullius, who was mocking at the gods, said in a voice broken by hiccoughs: “If the Spheros of Xenophanes is round, then such a god might be kicked along like a barrel.” But Domitius Afer, a hardened criminal and spy, waxed wrothy at this discourse, and in his wrath poured Falernian wine over his tunic. He had always believed in the gods. People might say that Rome would perish; there were those that said it was perishing now. And no wonder, but if this should come to pass it was only because youth had lost its faith, and without faith there could be no virtue. The stern virtues of former days were neglected. It did not seem to occur to any one that epicureans could not resist the bar- barians. And as for himself, he grieved that he lived in such times, and that he was compelled to seek forgetfulness in distractions, otherwise his grief would kill him. After moralizing thus, he drew towards himself a Syrian dancer and showered kisses upon her neck and shoulders with his toothless mouth. Whereupon Memmius Regulus laughed, and raising his bald head with his wreath all awry, exclaimed: “Who says that Rome is perishing? Nonsense. I as Con- sul know better. The Consuls are watchful. Thirty legions are guarding the peace of the Roman Empire.” Placing his hands upon his temples, he began to shout in a voice that filled the whole hall: “Thirty legions, thirty legions, from Britain to the Parthian boundaries.” Then suddenly he became absorbed in thought, and teuch- ing his forehead with his fingers, said: “Mayhap there are thirty-two.” At last he rolled under the table, and was soon engaged in heaving up flamingo tongues, roast and chilled mushrooms, locusts in honey, fish, meat, and everything that he had eaten or drunk. But the number of the legions who guarded the safety of Rome did not pacify Domitius: “No, no!” he cried, “Rome must perish, for faith is lost, and so are the old stern virtues. Rome must perish, and it is a pity, for its life is pleasant, Caesar is the greatest of Caesars, the wine 70 QUO VADIS. is good! Oh, how sad!” And dropping his head on a Syrian girl’s shoulder he burst into tears. “What is the future life? Achilles was right—it is better to be a slave in this world, lightened by the sun, than a king in the Cim- merian gloom. Besides, it is a question still whether there be any gods, though incredulity is the ruin of our youth.” Lucan meanwhile had blown all the golden powder from the hair of Nigidia, who had fallen into a drunken sleep. Then he took garlands of ivy from a vase before him and wound them about her. Then he looked about him with a pleased and inquiring glance. He decked himself with ivy also, and repeated in a voice of deep conviction: “I am no man, but a faun.” Petronius was not drunk, but Nero, who drank moderately at first in order to spare his divine voice, drank goblet after goblet towards the end, and had become drunk. He wished to sing more of his verses, this time in Greek, but he had forgotten them and by mistake sang an ode to Anacreon. Pythagoras, Diodorus, and Terpnos ac- companied him, but as they could not keep time, they ceased. Nero, as a critic and an aesthetic, was enchanted with the beauty of Pythagoras, and began to kiss his hands. Such beautiful hands, he thought, I have seen but once, and whose were they? Then his face blanched with terror; they were those of his mother, Agrippina. Terrible visions possessed him forthwith. “They say,” said he, “that she wanders by moonlight, along the sea, around the Baiae and Bauli and ever she walks, walks, walks, and appears to be seeking for something. And when a boat approaches, she looks at it and disappears; but the fishermen on whom she has fixed that look dies forth- with.” “Not a bad theme for a poem,” said Petronius. Vestinius, stretching his neck like a crane, whispered mys- ae “T believe not in gods, but I do believe in spirits. ye Nero paid no attention their words and continued: “T celebrated the Lemuria. But I have no wish to see her. It is now five years ago—I had to condemn her for she set an assassin to murder me, and had I not been the quicker, ye would not have heard my song to-night.” “We thank thee in the name of Rome and of the whole world,” exclaimed Domitius Afer. “Wine and let the tym- pans resound.” QUO VADIS. 7 The uproar was renewed. Lucan, entwined with ivy, arose and began to shout: “Iam nota man: Iam a faun, and I live in the woods. E, ho, 0, 0 0, 0.” Caesar was now completely intoxicated; men and women all were drunk. Vinitius was no soberer than the other guests. Besides passionate desire, there arose in him an in- clination to quarrel. This happened always when he drank too much. His dark face paled. He stuttered when he spoke, though his voice was loud and commanding: “Kiss me! To-day, to-morrow, ’tis all the same. I am tired of waiting. Caesar took thee from Aulus to give thee to me. Dost thou understand? To-morrow at evening I will send for thee. Thou must be mine! Kiss me! I will not wait for to-morrow. Give me thy lips at once.” He attempted to embrace Lygia, but Actea defended her, and she herself resisted, exerting the remnant of her strength, for she felt she was on the brink of ruin. In vain did she at- tempt with both hands to remove his hairless arm; in vain did she implore him in a voice trembling with grief and fear, to take compassion on her. Sated with wine, his breath floated about her, and his face was pressed close to hers. This was no longer the kind Vinitius, almost dear to her heart, but a foul and drunken Satyr, who filled her with ab- horrent fear. She grew weaker and weaker. In vain did she writhe and turn away her face to escape his kisses. IIe rose and caught her in both arms, and, pressing her head to his breast, he began, panting heavily, to press her white lips with his. At this moment, some invincible power uncoiled his arms from her neck as easily as though they had been the arms of a child, and Vinitius himself was thrust aside as a dried branch, or a faded leaf. What had happened? Vini- tius rubbed his astonished eyes. Before him stood the gigan- tic figure of the Lygian, Ursus, whom he had met at the house of Aulus. The Lygian stood calmly, but his blue eyes gazed so strangely at Vinitius that the blood congealed in the latter’s veins. Then Ursus, with a measured step, quietly conducted his queen out of the banqueting hall. Actea followed him. Vinitius sat for a moment as if petrified. Then, springing towards the entrance, he shouted: “Lygia! Lygia!” But desire, astonishment, rage, and wine, combined to cut his legs from under him. Staggering, he seized the bare arm of one of the Bacchanals and, with blinking eyes, asked her what ¥2 QUO VADIS. had happened. She, with a smile in her eyes, handed him a goblet of wine and said: “Drink!” Vinitius drank, and fell down upon the floor. The majority of the guests were now lying under the table, snoring, in drunken slumbers, giving forth the excess of wine. And still upon the drunken Consuls and Senators, upon the poets and philosophers, and upon the dancing dam- sels, and the patrician ladies, upon the members of a society still dominant, but whose soul was dead and whose end was near, roses fell continually from the golden net fastened to the ceiling. And out of doors the dawn was breaking. CHAPTER VIII. No one stopped Ursus, nor did any one inquire what he was doing. Such guests as had not fallen under the table, no longer retained their places. Therefore, the servants, seeing the giant carrying a guest out on his arm, mistook him for a slave, in charge of a drunken mistress. Moreover, Actea followed him, and her presence removed all suspicion. In this fashion they made their way from the banqueting hall into the adjoining chamber and thence into the gallery that led to Actea’s room. lLygia had become so weak that she hung as if dead on the arm of Ursus. But when the cool, fresh, morning air blew on her face, she opened her eyes. It was growing brighter and brighter. Walking along the Colonnade, they turned to a side portico, leading out, not into the court-yard, but into the Palace gardens, where the tops of the pines and the cypresses were reddening in the morning light. This section of the building was entirely empty. The echoes of the music and sounds of the revel gradually became indistinct. It seemed to Jygia that she had been carried from hell up into the bright light of God above. There was something, then, besides that repulsive banqueting hall. There were the sky, the morning stars, light and peace. The maiden suddenly burst into tears. Pressing herself against the arm of the giant, she repeated between - sobs: “Take me home, Ursus, home to the house of Au- us.” eee QUO VADIS. 73 “Let us go,” answered Ursus. They had now reached the small hall belonging to Actea’s apartments. Ursus placed Lygia on a marble bench near a fountain, while Actea strove to calm her, and urged her to go to sleep. She assured her that there was no longer any danger, as the drunken guests would sleep till evening. But Lygia could not calm herself for a long time, and pressing both hands against her temples, repeated like a child: “Let us go home to Aulus.” Ursus was ready to carry out her wish. Although pre- torians stood about the gates, still they could not prevent him from passing. The soldiers would not halt outgoing guests. The space before the arch was crowded with litters. Guests were now swarming out. Nobody would detain them. They would pass out with the crowd and go directly home. Anyway, he must not question. What the queen commands must be done. He was there to execute her orders. And Lygia repeated: “Yes, yes, Ursus, let us go.” But Actea began to reason with them both. True, they could go away, nobody would detain them. But it was for- bidden to flee from Caesar’s house, and who did so was guilty of insulting the majesty of Caesar. They might go away, but at evening a centurion would carry a sentence of death to Aulus and Pomponia Gracena, and Lygiea wouid be brought hack to the Palace. Then nothing conid save her. Should Aulus and his wife receive her in tneir house, they would surely be punished. Lygia let fall her hands. There was no other alternative. She must choose between her own ruin or that of Plautius, In going to the banquet she had hoped that Vinitius and Petronius would intercede for her with Caesar, and return her to Pomponia. Now she knew chat it was they who had in- duced Caesar to take her away from the house of Aulus. There was no help. Only a miracle could save her from ths abyss, a miracle and the power of God. “Actea,” she cried in despair, “didst thou hear what Vini. tius said, that Caesar had given me to him, and that he would send slaves this evening to carry me to his house?” “T heard,” said Actea, and, dropping her hands to her side, she became silent. The despair which expressed itself in. Lygia’s words found no echo in her breast. She herseif had been Nero’s favorite. Her heart, though kindly, was not able to appreciate the shame of such a relation. A former slave, she had become too much used to the law of slavery. Be- 74 QUO VADIS. sides, she still loved Nero. Should he desire to return to her, she would stretch out her arms to him and rejoice in her good fortune. Seeing clearly that Lygia must become the mistress of the young and handsome Vinitius, or expose the family who had reared her to ruin, she could not understand how the maiden could hesitate. “In Caesar’s house,” said she, “thou wilt be no safer than in that of Vinitius.” And it did not occur to her that though her words were true, they meant: “Be reconciled with your lot and become the mistress of Vinitius.” Lygia, who still felt upon her lips his kisses burning with desire and glowing like coals, flushed with shame at the very remembrance. “Never,” she burst out, “never will I remain here, nor in the home of Vinitius.” Actea marvelled at her excitement. “Is Vinitius so hate- ful to you?” she asked. Tears choked Lygia so she could not answer. Actea drew her to her breast and strove to calm her. Ursus breathed heavily and clinched his enormous fists. Loving his queen with a doglike fidelity he could not bear to see her weeping. In his wild Lygian heart arose a desire to return to the ban- queting hall and to strangle Vinitius, and, if need be, Caesar himself; but he was afraid lest he should sacrifice his mis- tress thereby. Nor was he certain in his mind that such an act, which seemed to him quite natural, was entirely befitting a follower of the Crucified Lamb. Actea, in the midst of her caresses, repeated her question: “Ts he so hateful to thee?” “No,” answered Lygia. “I cannot hate him because I am a Christian.” “I know, Lygia. I learned also from the Epistles of Paul, of Tarsus, that you are forbidden to defile yourselves, and to fear death more than sin, but tell me, does your faith permit you to cause the death of others?” “No.”’ “How, then, canst thou bring Caesar’s vengeance on the house of Aulus?” There was a moment of silence. The deep abyss yawned before Lygia. Then the freedwoman added: “I ask because I am sorry for thee, and because I am sorry for Pomponia and for Aulus and their son. I have lived long enough in this house to know what the wrath of Caesar QUO VADIS. 75 means. No, thou must not flee from here. There is but one recourse left for thee. Beg Vinitius to return thee to Pom- ponia.” But Lygia fell on her knees to implore some one else. Ur- sus followed her example, and they united in prayer in the house of Caesar as the dawn broke through the windows. Actea for the first time witnessed such a prayer. She could not avert her eyes from Lygia, who, with profile turned towards her, with outstretched hands, and eyes raised to- wards the sky, seemed there to seek for safety. The morn- ing rays touching her dark hair and white robe were reflected |” in her eyes. In the glory of the dawn she seemed herself’ transformed by the light. In her pale face, in her parted lips, in her uplifted hands and eyes shone a supernatural ex; altation. And then Actea comprehended why Lygia could not become the mistress of any man. “Twas as if before the face of Nero’s former favorite was drawn aside the corner of a veil that concealed a world entirely different from the one she knew. She was touched by that prayer, offered up in the house of crime and corruption. A moment before she had felt that there was no help for Lygia. Now she began to believe that some unlooked-for thing would happen, that aid would come, so powerful that Caesar himself could not resist it; that a winged army would descend from heaven to rescue the maiden, or that the sun would spread its rays under her and draw her up to itself. She had heard of many miracles that had occurred among the Christians, and Lygia’s prayer somehow suggested that all the stories were true. At length Lygia arose with a face brightened by hope. Ursus rose also, and, sitting on the bench, looked at his lady, waiting for her to speak. Her eyes grew misty and two large tears rolled slowly down her cheeks. “May God bless Pomponia and Aulus,” said she. “I must not expose them to danger, consequently I shall never see them again.” Turning to Ursus, she told him that he alone was left her in the world, that he take the place of a father, a guardian, and a protector. They could not seek shelter in the house of Aulus, for he would thus be exposed to the wrath of Caesar. On the other hand, she could not remain in the house either of Caesar or of Vinitius. Let Ursus take her, let him conduct her out of Rome and hide her somewhere where she could not be found by Vini- tius or his slaves. She would follow him everywhere, even 76 QUO VADIS. beyond the seas, beyond the mountains, to the barbarians, where the name of Rome was unheard and where the power of Caesar did not reach. Let him take her and save her, for beside him nobody was left to her. The Lygian, in sign of his readiness and obedience, knelt and embraced her feet. Disappointment was evident on the face of Actea, who had looked for a miracle. Was it possible that this was all that would come out of the prayer? To es- cape from the house of Caesar was to commit a crime against his majesty. Such a crime must be avenged. Even should Lygia succeed in escaping, Caesar’s wrath would fall on Au- lus and Pomponia. If Lygia desired to escape, let her es- cape from the house of Vinitius. Then Caesar, who was averse to busying himself with the affairs of others, might not wish to help Vinitius in pursuing her. In any case, such a proceeding would not be a crime against the majesty of Caesar. Lygia’s thoughts were as follows: “Aulus would not even know where she had gone; Pom- ponia would not know. She would escape, not from the house of Aulus, but on the way to it. Under the influence of intoxication, Vinitius had told her that in the evening he would send his slaves for her. Undoubtedly he had told the truth, which would not have escaped him had he been sober. It was evident that he himself, or perhaps Petronius, had spoken to Caesar and had secured his promise to deliver her on the following evening. If they forgot to send for her to-day, they would send to-morrow. But Ursus would save her. He would come and take her out of the litter, as he had borne her from the banquct hall, and together they would wander over the whole world. Ursus was invincible; not even that terrible gladiator who yesterday had wrestled at the banquet hall was able to overcome him. But, as Vinitius might send a number of slaves, it would be better for Ursus to go at once to Bishop Linus for aid and counsel. The bishop, undoubtedly, would take compassion on her; he would not abandon her to the mercy of Vinitius. He would send Christians with Ursus to rescue her, and would conduct her to a place of safety. Then Ursus would take her out of the city, and hide her from the power of Rome. Her face flushed and wreathed itself in smiles. She was encouraged, as if the hope of rescue had already turned into reality. Throwing herself on Actea’s neck and pressing her beautiful lips to the Grecian’s cheek, she murmured: QUO VADIS. 77 “Thou wilt not betray me, Actea, wilt thou?” _“By the shade of my mother,” answered the freedwoman, “I will not betray thee. But pray to thy God that Ursus may succeed in rescuing thee.” The blue eyes of the giant, simple as a child, grew bright with happiness. He had not been able to form a definite plan, though he had put all his simple mind to the task. , But he would follow such orders as were given him, whether by day or by night made no difference to him. He would go to the bishop, for the bishop reads in the sky what should and should not be done. Even without the bishop’s aid he could summon a party of Christians. Had he not plenty of acquaintances among slaves, gladiators and free people, both in the Suburra and beyond the mountains? He could collect a thousand or two. He would rescue his mistress, and take her out of the city and abide with her. They would go to the end of the world, even to his native land, where no one had ever heard of Rome. Here he gazed into space, as if looking into the far distant future, and exclaimed: “To the forest! Ah, what a forest! What a forest!’ But he shook his dreams from him. Yes, he would go immediately to the bishop, and in the evening he, with a hundred followers, would watch for the litter. What differ- ence if she be escorted by slaves or by pretorians? Better for no man to feel the weight of his fist, even if clad in armor. Iron is not so strong. Should he strike the iron heavily, death would enter the skull beneath. But Lygia, raising her finger, said with child-like earnest- ness: “Ursus, thou shalt not kill.” The giant put his huge fist to the back of his head and rubbing his neck with great seriousness, began to mutter. He must rescue the maiden. She herself had said that it was now his turn. He would do his best. If anything should happen, he would repent, he would pray to the Innocent Lamb for pardon, he would implore the mercy of the Cruci- fied Lamb. He did not wish to offend the Lamb—but who could tell? His fists were so powerful! Infinite tenderness beamed from his face, but, wishing to conceal his emotion, he knelt and said: “Now I will go to the bishop.” Actea embraced Lygia and burst into tears. Again she ~ comprehended that there was a world where even suffering ~ rt 78 QUO VADIS. ‘ allowed of more happiness than all the excesses and luxuries in the house of Caesar. Once more a door revealing light had been opened, but at the same time she felt that she was unworthy to cross the threshold. And two tears glistened upon her drooping eye- lids. CHAPTER IX. Lygia sorrowed deeply to part from Pomponia Graecina, whom she loved with her whole heart, and also from the household of Aulus. Yet her grief was short-lived. She took a certain pleasure in the very thought that she was sacrificing plenty and comfort for the Truth; that she was about to expose herself to hardships and uncertainties. Blended with this feeling was, perhaps, an alloy of childish curiosity as to what life was like in remote regions, among barbarians and wild beasts. But, for the most part, she was inspired by deep and earnest faith. She was convinced that she was following the behests of the Divine Master, and that henceforward He would watch over her as over an obedient and faithful child. And, if so, what harm could befall her? Should sufferings come, she would bear them for His sake; should death overtake her, He would receive her. When Pomponia died they would be reunited forever. Many a time in the house of Aulus she had worried her childish brain with thoughts that she, a Christian, had made no sacrifices for the Crucified One, of whom Ursus spoke so tenderly. Now the time had come to realize her fancies. Lygia felt really happy, and strove to tell Actea of her joy, but the young Grecian could not understand her. To leave everything behind, to abandon home, plenty, the city, gar- dens, temples, porticoes, all that was beautiful; to leave a sunny land, and the loved ones therein, and for what pur- pose? To run away from the love of a young and handsome nobleman. Actea’s mind could not comprehend this. There were times when she scented some concealed purpose in her actions, mayhap some great, mysterious happiness; but the matter was not at all clear in her mind, especially as dangers threatened Lygia which might destroy her life. Actea was naturally timid, and she thought with dread of what the QUO VADIS. 79 future might have in store. But she wished not to trouble Lygia with her fears. As the day was clear and the sun shone into the hall, she began to coax the maiden to rest after her sleepless night. Lygia agreed, and they entered a spacious bed chamber, whose luxurious furniture was a re- minder of Actea’s former relations with Caesar. Here they lay side by side, but Actea, despite her weariness, could not sleep. She had long been unhappy, but now she was pos- sessed by a new uneasiness. Previously existence had seemed to her merely sad and hopeless. Now it appeared to her shameful. : She became more and more confused in mind. The door that revealed light was now open and now closed. But even when it opened her eyes, unused to the light, were dazzled, and she could distinguish nothing clearly. She divined that in the light there was unbounded happiness, compared with which all else was of small value, so that even if Caesar, for example, should set aside Poppaea and again love her, Actea, this would not now bring her unalloyed happiness. Then the thought struck her that Caesar, whom she loved and regarded as a demigod, was in reality no better than any slave, and his palace, with its columns of Numidian marble, no better than a heap of stones. Thoughts such as these, which she could scarce comprehend, began to torment her. She desired to sleep, but, tormented by doubts, she could not close her eyes. Then, thinking that Lygia, threatened by so many uncertainties and perils, could not sleep either, she turned to speak to her of her flight, which was to take place in the evening. But Lygia was sleeping peacefully. Into the darkened room, through a curtain not entirely drawn, stole some bright rays, in which floated golden dust motes. By the light of these rays Actea looked upon Lygia’s delicate face, resting on her bare arm, her closed eyes and her lips slightly parted. She was breathing regularly, as people breathe while sleeping. “She sleeps—she is able to sleep,” thought Actea. “She is still a child.” Nevertheless, it was borne into her that this child preferred to flee rather than to become the favorite of Vinitius; that she preferred want to infamy, wandering to a luxurious house, to robes, beautiful ornaments, feasts, the music of lutes and cytheras. Why? 36 QUO VADIS. Actea looked more closely at Lygia, as if to read an an- swer in her sleeping face. She looked at her beautiful fore- head, at her arched eyebrows, at her dark lashes, her parted lips, at her heaving bosom, and she thought “How different she is from me!” ae a Lygia appeared a miracle to her, as some divine vision, a creation of the gods, a hundredfold more beautiful than all the flowers in Caesar’s garden and all the statues in his palace. But in the Grecian’s heart there was no envy. On the con- trary, at thought of the dangers that threatened the maiden, she melted into pity; a mother’s love was awakened in her. Lygia appeared to her not only as beautiful as a dream, but as very dear to her heart. Pressing her lips to the dark hair, she rained kisses upon it. But Lygia slept on calmly, as if at her own home, under the care of Pomponia, and she slept long. It was past noon when she opened her blue eyes and began to look with aston- ishment about the bed chamber. Evidently she was surprised that she was not in the house of Aulus. “Ts it thee, Actea?” said she at last, seeing in the darkness the face of the Grecian. “Yes, Lygia.” “Ts it evening?” “No, my child, but noon has passed.” “Has not Ursus returned?” “Ursus did not promise to return. He said that he would watch with the Christians for the litter.” “True.” They left the bed room and went to the bath, where Actea bathed Lygia; then they breakfasted together, and the Gre- cian conducted Lygia to the gardens of the palace, there being no danger, as Caesar and his guests were still asleep. For the first time in her life Lygia beheld these beautiful gardens, full of cypresses, pines, oak, olive and myrtle trees, amid which arose a veritable population of white, motionless statues. Mirror-like ‘streams gleamed brightly; groves of roses were in bloom, sprinkled with the spray of fountains; entrances to picturesque grottoes were overgrown with ivy and vines; silver-colored swans floated on the waters; amid statues and trees wandered gazclles from the deserts of Africa, and bright-plumed birds from all the known regions of the world. The gardens were empty, save that here and there slaves Henry Altemus. 1897, Copyright, LYGIA. QUO VADIS. ay were digging and chanting in undertones, and others, en- joying a recess, were sitting on the banks of the streams or beneath the shade of oaks, in the quivering light that broke in between the leaves, and others again were watering the roses or the pale, lily-colored crocus blossoms. Actea and Lygia walked for some time, taking in all the wonders of the gardens, and though the mind of Lygia was disturbed with other thoughts, she was too much of a child to resist the pleasure, curiosity and wonder raised by the scene. She thought that if Caesar were only good he might live very happily in such a palace and such gardens. Some- what tired at length, the two friends sat down on a bench almost hidden by cypresses, and talked of what weighed most on their minds—Lygia’s flight in the evening. Actca was far less hopeful of success than Lygia. At times it seemed to her a wild and impossible project. Her pity for Lygia increased. It seemed to her that it would be much safer to appeal to the mercy of Vinitius. She questioned Lygia as to how long she had known Vinitius, and whether he could not be persuaded to return her to Pomponia. But Lygia shook her head. “No,” she said, “in the house of Aulus he was very different; he was kind, but since last night’s feast I fear him, and I prefer to flee to the Lygians.” “But,” inquired Actea, “thou didst ike him in the house of Aulus?” “Yes,” answered Lygia, hanging her head. “Thou wert not a slave, as I was,” said Actea, meditatively. “Vinitius might marry thee. Thou art a hostage, and the daughter of a king. ‘Aulus and Pomponia love thee as their own child. They will, without doubt, adopt thee. Vinitius may marry thee.” But Lygia answered, in a low, sad voice: “J would rather fly to the Lygians.” “Dost thou wish me to go to Vinitius, awaken him if he sleeps, and tell him what I have just told thee? MHearken, my dear, I will go to him and say: ‘Vinitius, Lygia is the daughter of a king, and a beloved child of Aulus. If thou lovest her, return her to the house of Aulus, and from that house take her as a wife.’ ” But the maiden repeated, in a voice so low that Actea could scarcely hear it: “T would rather fly to the Lygians.” Further conversation was interrupted by the sound of ap- 6 82 QUO VADIS. proaching footsteps. Before Actea could see who was coming, Poppaca Sabina made her appearance, with a small retinue of women slaves. ‘Two of them held over her head bunches of ostrich feathers fastened to golden wires. These served both as fans and as a protection against the sun. Before Poppaea, an Egyptian woman, black as ebony, with breasts swollen from milk, bore in her arms a child, wrapt in purple fringed with golden embroidery. Actea and Lygia rose. They had expected that Poppaea would pass without paying any attention to them. But she stopped in front of them and said: “Actea, the bells sewn by thee on the doll were poorly fas- tened, and the child tore one of them off and put it into her mouth; fortunately Lilith noticed it in season.’ “Pardon me, O Divine one!” answered Actea, crossing her hands on her breast and bowing her head. Poppaea gazed at Lygia, and inquired: “What slave is this?” “She is no slave, Oh Divine Augusta, but a foster-child of Pomponia Graecina and the daughter of a Lygian king, whom he surrendered as a hostage to Rome.” “Tas she come to visit thee?” “No, Augusta, since day before yesterday, she has been staying in the palace.” “Was she at the banquet last night?” “She was, Augusta.” “At whose command?” “At Caesar’s command.” Poppaea gazed more attentively at Lygia. The maiden stood with bowed head, raising her bright eyes to her with curiosity, and now dropping them again. A frown appeared on the brow of Augusta. Jealously guarding her beauty ann power, she lived in constant dread less some fortunate rival might destroy her as she had destroyed Octavia. Therefore every beautiful face that appeared in the palace excited her suspicion. With a critical eye Poppaea scrutinized Lygia’s form, took in every feature at a glance, and became fright- ened. She is a nymph, thought she, and Venus, herself, must have given her birth. Suddenly a new thought came to her, which never before had occurred to her mind at sight of a beautiful woman, the thought that she herself was growing old. Wounded vanity and alarm seized Poppaea, many fears flashed through her mind. What might happen if Caesar QUO VADIS. 83 met this maiden during the day time in the sunlight? She was not a slave, but the daughter of a king. A barbarian, it is true, but still a king. “Immortal gods! She is as beau- tiful as I, and younger!’ The frown on her brow deepened. Beneath their golden lashes her eyes shone with an evil light. Turning to Lygia, she asked, in a calm voice: “Hast thou spoken with Caesar?” “No, Augusta.” “Why dost thou prefer to be here rather than in the house of Aulus?” “Tt is not my choice, lady. Petronius induced Caesar to take me from Pomponia. I am here against my will.” “Dost thou wish to return to Pomponia?” This question Poppaea asked in a softer and milder voice, and Lygia’s heart bounded with a new hope. “Lady,” she said, stretching out her hand, “Caesar prom- ised to give me to Vinitius as a slave. Pray intercede for me and return me to Pomponia.” “Then it was Petronius who induced Caesar to take thee from Aulus and give thee to Vinitius?” “Yes, lady, Vinitius will send for me to-day; but thou art kind, have pity on me!” She knelt and, seizing the border of Poppaea’s robe, awaited an answer with a beating heart. Poppaea looked at her a moment. Her face lit up with a malicious smile. “T promise,” she said, “that thou to-day wilt become the slave of Vinitius.” Then she went her way, fair as a dream, but evil. To the ears of Lygia and Actea came only the wail of the infant, who began to cry without any apparent reason. Lygia’s eyes, also, dimmed with tears. But she took Actea’s hand and said: “Let us return. Help is to be hoped for only from whence it can come.” They returned to Actea’s apartments, where they remained until evening. When darkness fell and the slaves brought in lighted torches, the faces of both women were pale. At every moment their conversation was interrupted. They both listened to hear if any one were approaching. Liygia said, re- peatedly, that, though grieved to part with Actea, she pre- ferred that all should end to-day, for Ursus without doubt was waiting for her in the darkness. Her breathing grew quicker from emotion and alarm. Actea hurriedly collected 84 Quo VADIS. all the gems she could find, and, fastening them in a corner of Lygia’s robe, begged her to accept these gifts as an aid to escape. At times there fell a deep silence, interrupted by deceptive sounds. It seemd to both that, at one time, there was a noise behind the curtain, then again the distant cry of an infant arose, and now they seemed to hear the barking of dogs. ; Suddenly the curtain of the ante-chamber was thrust aside. A tall dark man, his face pitted with small-pox, glided like a phantom into the chamber. Liygia, at the first glance, rec- ognized Atacinus, one of Vinitius’s freedmen, whom she had seen at the house of Aulus. Actea screamed. Atacinus bowed his head and said: “Vinitius greets the divine Lygia and bids her to come to a feast in his house, which he has adorned with green.” The lips of the maiden grew white. “T go,” said she. Then in farewell she threw herself into the arms of Actea. CHAPTER X. The house of Vinitius was, in fact, adorned with the green of myrtle and ivy, garlands of which hung on the walls and doors. The columns were wreathed about with grape vine. The great hall, whose entrance was covered with a purple woolen cloth, as a protection from the cool night air, was as clear as daylight. Lamps of eight or twelve flames were burning. These took the forms of vessels, trees, birds or stat- ues, with flames jutting from receivers full of perfumed oil. They were made of alabaster, or gilded Corinthian bronze, not so beautiful as the famous lamp from the temple of Apollo which Nero possessed, but nevertheless with a beauty of their own, fashioned as they all had been by celebrated masters. In some the lights were shaded by Alexandrian glass,oratrans- parent stuff from India of red, blue, yellow, or violet color, so that the entire hall was filled with many colored rays. The air was heavy with the odor of tuberoses, to which Vinitius had become accustomed while living in the Orient. The en- tire house, through which moved male and female slaves, was brilliant with lights. The table in the banquet room was laid QUO VADIS. 85 for four persons, for, besides Vinitius and Lygia, Petronius and Chrysothemis were to attend the feast. Vinitius had taken the advice of Petronius, not to go for Lygia himself, but to send Atacinus with the permission accorded by Caesar, and receive her in his own home, himself, with friendliness and even with marks of special consideration. “Thou wert intoxicated yesterday,” said Petronius. “I had my eyes on thee. Thou didst behave to her like a quarryman from the Alban hills. Be not so rough, and remember that good wine should be drunk slowly. Know, too, that to de- sire is sweet, but to be desired is sweeter.” Chrysothemis had a different opinion, but Petronius, call- ing her his vestal and his dove, began to explain the difference which must exist between an experienced charioteer and a youth who holds the reins for the first time. Then, turning to Vinitius, he said: “Win her confidence, make her happy, treat her with mag- nanimity. I care not to be present at a gloomy feast. Swear to her, even by Hades, that thou wilt return her to Pomponia, then see to it that to-morrow she prefers to remain in thy house.” Pointing to Chrysothemis, he added: “For five years I acted thus with this flighty dove and I cannot com- plain of her obduracy.” Chrysothemis coquettishly tapped him with her fan of pea- cock feathers, and said: “Did I not resist thee, Satyr?” “Out of regard for my predecessor.” “But wert thou not at my feet?” “To put rings on thy toes.” Chrysothemis looked involuntarily at her feet, on the toes of which jewels actually glittered. Both she and Petronius laughed. Vinitius did not listen to their banter. His heart was beating uneasily under the splendidly decorated robe of a Syrian priest which he had donned for Lygia’s reception. — “They must have left the palace already,” said he, as if speaking to himself. “They must,” said Petronius in confirmation. “In the meantime shall I tell you about the predictions of Apollonius, of Tyana, or shall I relate the history of Rufinus, which I have not finished, I know not why.” Vinitius was interested, neither in Apollonius or in Rufi- nus. He could not take his mind from Lygia. Though he he felt it was more befitting to receive her at home than to 86 QUO VADIS. go to the palace, as if he wished to take her by force, still he regretted that he had not gone, for then he would have seen her sooner and could have sat in the darkness by her side in a double litter. Meanwhile slaves brought in a tripod, ornamented with rams’ heads, and bronze dishes filled with live coals, over which they sprinkled pieces of myrrh and nard. “Now they are turning towards the Carinae,” said Vini- tius again to himself. “He has not the patience to wait, he will run to meet them, and will probably miss them,” exclaimed Chrysothemis. Vinitius smiled in an embarrassed manner and said: “I have patience and I will wait.” He dilated his nostrils and panted. Seeing this Petronius shrugged his shoulders and said: “There is not a farthing’s worth of philosophy in him; I shall never succeed in making a man of this son of Mars.” But Vinitius did not even hear his words. “They are already in the Carinae,” he murmured. Indeed, the litter in which Lygia lay was really turning to- wards the Carinae. The lamp bearers were in front; the car- riers were on both sides of the litter. Atacinus followed just behind them. They moved slowly, for the streets were not lighted and the lanterns hardly sufficed to show the way. The street was uncommonly crowded; almost from every turning people poured out in groups without torches or lamps and clad in dark mantles. Some of them mingled with the slaves accompanying the litter. Others, in greater numbers, ap- proached from the opposite direction. Some staggered, as if drunk, and for some moments the advance grew so difficult that the lamp-bearers began to shout: “Make way for the noble tribune, Marcus Vinitius!” Lygia, throwing aside the curtain, looked upon these peo- ple clad in dark mantles, and trembled with emotion. Hope and fear mingled in her breast. “That is he! That is Ursus and the Christians! The struggle will begin soon,” she mur- mured, with quivering lips. “Help me, Oh Christ, save me!” Atacinus, who at first had not noticed the uncommon ani- mation in the streets, now became alarmed. Something un- usual was taking place. The lamp-bearers had to keep up their shouting: “Make way for the litter of the noble tribune!” From all sides unknown people had crowded around the QUO VADIS. 87 litter to such an extent that Atacinus ordered the slaves to drive them away with clubs. Suddenly, a cry rang out. Immediately all the lights were extinguished. Around the litter a confused struggle began. Atacinus perceived that an attack had been made upon the litter. This frightened him. It was known to all that Cae- sar, with a crowd of attendants, frequently amused himself with such attacks in the Suburra and in other parts of the city. It was known that Nero sometimes returned from these nocturnal adventures with black and blue spots. But those -who defended themselves were condemned to death, even if of senatorial rank. The quarters of the guards, whose duty it was to preserve order in the city, were not far away, but, on such occasions, the guards feigned to be deaf and blind. Meantime, the struggle thickened about the litter; people struck and trampled upon one another. It flashed upon Atacinus that he had best save Lygia and himself and leave the rest to their fate. Drawing the maiden from the lit- ter, he took her in his arms and attempted to escape in the darkness. But Lygia began to shout: “Ursus, Ursus!’ She had left the palace in a white robe, hence she was plainly visible. Atacinus, with his free arm, was just cover- ing her with his mantle, when, suddenly, terrible claws were dug into his neck and a crushing mass, like a stone, came down upon his head. He dropped, in a twinkling, as an ox might drop beneath the butt-end of an axe, before an altar of Jove. Most of the slaves were already lying on their backs. The rest had scattered in the darkness. On the spot only the broken litter remained. Ursus bore Lygia to the Suburra, his companions following him and dispersing gradually at the street corners. The slaves began soon to assemble before the house of Vini- tius, and stood there debating. Not daring to enter, they decided to return to the scene of the attack, where they found a few dead bodies, among them that of Atacinus, He was still quivering, but after a moment of violent convulsion he expired. The slaves lifted him up and carried him towards the house of Vinitius, but they stopped at the gate, dreading to inform their master of what had happened. “Let Gulo be our spokesman,” whispered a few voices; “his 88 QUO VADIS. face is bloody, as are ours, and our master loves him; he runs less risk than any of us.” Gulo, a German slave, who had nursed Vinitius, and who had descended to him from his mother, the sister of Petro- nius, said: “T will inform him. But let us all go in together. Let not his wrath descend on my head alone.” Meantime the patience of Vinitius was exhausted. Petro- nius and Chrysothemis ridiculed him as he walked with quick steps up and down the room, repeating: “They should be here already; they should be here already.”: He would have gone out to meet them, but Petronius and Chrysothemis held him back. Suddenly steps were heard in the vestibule, and into the hall there rushed a crowd of slaves, who began to utter mourn- ing cries. “Aaaa!—aa!” Vinitius rushed towards them. “Where is Lygia?” he cried, in a strange and terrible voice. “Aaaa!—aa!” Then Gulo came forward, the blood streaming down his face. Ina trembling voice he exclaimed: “Behold our blood, master! We defended her. Behold blood, master, blood!” But, ere he could finish, Vinitius seized a bronze lamp, and with one blow shattered his skull; then, clutching his own head with both hands, he tore his hair, and repeated, in a hoarse voice: “Woe is me! Woe is me!” His face grew livid, his eyes started from his head, and foam appeared at his mouth. “Whips!” he roared, in a terrible voice. “Master, Aaaa!—aa! Have mercy on us!” implored the slaves. Petronius arose, an expression of disgust upon his face. “Let us go, Chrysothemis,” he said. “If thou wishest to look upon raw flesh, I will command a butcher’s stall to be opened in the Carinae.” And he left the room. Throughout all the house, hung with ivy and prepared for feasting, there rang groans and the whistling of whips. These sounds lasted almost until the morning. QUO VADIS. 89 CHAPTER XI. Vinitius sought not his couch that night. Some time after the departure of Petronius, as the groans of the slaves undergoing flagellation could appease neither his grief nor his anger, he collected a crowd of other slaves, and, though it was late at night, he led them forth in search of Lygia. He searched the Esquiline district, the Suburra, the criminal quarter, and all the adjoining by-lanes. Then, passing the Capitol, he crossed the bridge of Fabricius to the island, and thence passed hurriedly through the trans-Tiber district. But search was in vain. He himself had little hope of finding Lygia, only he felt he must do something during that terrible night. He returned home at daybreak, when the carts and mules of the vegetable dealers had already appeared in the streets, and when bakers were opening their shops. On his return he ordered the removal of Gulo’s corpse, which nobody had dared to touch. The slaves who had escorted Lygia he sent to rural dungeons, a punishment con- sidered more terrible even than death. Throwing himself, at last, on a couch in the banqueting hall, he pondered con- fused plans of how he could find and seize Lygia. He could not bear the thought that he would not see Lygia again. The very idea threw him into a frenzy. Imperious by nature, the young soldier, for the first time in his life, met resistance, met another unyielding will, and he could not understand how anyone could dare to thwart his desires. Vinitius would rather the entire world should perish and Rome fall into ruins than that he should fail to attain the object of his desires. The cup of joy had been snatched from his lips, therefore it seemed to him that an unprece- dented something had happened—something that cried aloud for vengeance to all laws, divine and human. He could not reconcile himself to fate. Never in his life had he desired anything so keenly as Lygia. He felt that he could not live without her. He could not imagine what he would do on the morrow without her, how he could sur- vive the days that were to come. At times he was trans- ported by fits of rage against her. He wanted to possess her, to drag her by the hair to his bed room, and there to gloat over her; and then again his heart was stirred by a yearn- ing for her form, her eyes, her voice, and he felt that he go QUO VADIS. would gladly fall at her feet. He called to her, he gnaw his fingers, he clasped his head with his hands. He strove compel himself to think calmly about continuing his searc but he could not. A thousand plans flitted through | head, one more foolish than the other. Then it occurred him that it must have been Aulus who had rescued t maiden, and that Aulus must know where she was co céaled. He sprang up to rush off at once to the house Aulus. If Aulus would not return Lygia to him—if he did n fear his threats—then he would go to Caesar, accuse the c general of disobedience, and prevail upon Nero to conder him to death. But, previous to this, he would compel t old man to reveal Lygia’s hiding place. Even if she we returned voluntarily, he would be revenged. True, he h been sheltered in the house of Aulus, he had been tak care of—but what of that? This insult had freed him frc his debt of gratitude. In imagination the young tribune revelled in the despair Pomponia when the centurion should bring the death se tence to old Aulus. He was certain that he could secure Petronius would assist him; besides, Caesar denied nothing his intimates, the Augustales, unless the request were ante onistic to his own desires or wishes. Suddenly his heart almost died within him under the inf ence of a terrible thought. Suppose Caesar himself had taken Lygia? It was generally known that Caesar, to relive his enn sought amusement by making night attacks. Even Petroni used to take a hand in them. The main object of the escapades was to seize women and toss them on a soldie blanket until they lost consciousness. Caesar at times call these adventures “pearl hunts,” for it sometimes happen that in densely populated districts they found a real pearl youth and beauty. Then the sagacio (the term for tl sport) was turned into an actual carrying off. The “pear was sent either to the Palatine Palace or to one of Caesa numerous villas, or else Caesar presented the jewel to one his intimates. Such a fate might have befallen Lyg Caesar had seen her at the feast. Vinitius had no doubt tt he must have thought her the most beautiful woman he h ever beheld. It was all clear enough now. True, Lygia h been in the Palatine Palace, and Caesar might have kept k QUO VADIS. 91 openly; but Caesar, as Petronius truly said, had no courage in wrong-doing; having the power to act openly, he preferred to do his ill deeds in secret. In this case fear lest he should betray himself to Poppaea had probably influenced him to act secretly. It now occurred to Vinitius that Aulus and Pom- ponia would not have dared to rescue the girl given to him by Caesar. Who, indeed, would dare to do this? Would that gigantic Lygian who had entered the banquet hall and had boldly taken her from the feast on his arm? But where could he hide her? No, a slave could not have done this deed. Hence, no one had taken Lygia except Caesar him- self. At this thought darkness fell about his eyes and his fore- head was bedewed with sweat. If this be the case, then Lygia was lost to him forever. It was possible for him to wrest her from the hands of anyone else, but not from those of Caesar. Now, with all the more reason, he could exclaim: “Woe, woe be unto me!” His imagination, allowing him no rest, pictured Lygia in the arms of Nero, and, for the first time in his life, he compre- hended that there are thoughts that are beyond human en- durance. Lygia’s image haunted his mind as the past flashes through the memory of a drowning man. He saw her, and heard every word that she uttered—saw her at the fountain, at the house of Aulus, at the banquet. Again he felt her presence, the fragrance of her hair, the warmth of her body, the sweetness of the kisses which he had imprinted upon her innocent lips. She appeared to him a hundredfold more beautiful than ever, more desirable and dearer to his heart, surpassing all mortal women and all goddesses. And when he thought that all that had so deeply stirred his heart, and had become mingled with his very blood and life, was now possessed by Nero, he was seized with a purely physical pain, so terrible that he wished to dash his brains out against the walls of the chamber. He felt that he was losing his mind, and he would surely have gone mad but for the hope of vengeance. Hitherto he had thought that he could not live without Lygia. Now he was determined that he would not die until he had avenged her. He found relief in this thought. “I will be thy Cassius, Oh Caesar!” he repeated to himself, addressing Nero in his mind. After a time he dug his hands into a flower pot, and squeezing a handful of earth together, he vowed to Erebus, Hecate, and his household lares, that he would avenge the spiriting away of Lygia. 92 QUO VADIS. And he was in a measure consoled. Now at least he had something to live for—something with which to occupy his days and nights. Abandoning his intention of visiting ‘ Aulus, Vinitius gave orders that he should be borne to the Palatine. On the way he decided that should he not be admitted to Caesar’s presence, or should they search him for concealed weapons, it would be a proof that Caesar had car- ried away Lygia. He took no weapon with him. He had lost his usual presence of mind in general, yet, as is not uncommon with people possessed by a single idea, he retained it in all things which concerned his revenge. He acted with great haste, in order that his thirst for vengeance should not weaken before he had slaked it. He desired, above every- thing, to see Actea, for from her he hoped to learn the truth. At times, also, he was consoled with the hope that he might see Lygia, and this thought made him tremble. If Caesar had taken her from the slaves, not knowing who she was, he might return her to him on that day. But he soon threw aside this idea. Had Caesar wished to return her to him, he would have sent her on the previous evening. Actea alone could explain everything to him. He would go to her first of all. Having determined on this course of action, he com- mandcd his litter bearers to make all speed. On the way his thoughts were disconnected, dwelling now on Lygia, now on his plans for revenge. He had heard that priests of the Egyptian goddess Pacht could bring on disease as they pleased, and he determined to learn their secret from them. In the Orient he had been informed, also, that the Jews knew certain invocations by means of which they covered the bodies of their enemies with ulcers. In his household he had about a score of Jewish slaves. He decided that on his return he would have them flogged until they gave up the secret. But with a special delight he thought of the short Roman sword which let out streams of blood such as had run from Caius Caligula, and left indelible stains on the columns of the por- tico. He was ready to bathe all Rome in blood. Had some revengeful gods promised him to destroy all mankind save himself and Lygia, he would even have agreed to that. In front of the arch of the Palatine Palace he recovered his pres- ence of mind. At sight of the pretorian guards he thought that if they tried even in the slightest way to detain him that this would be a proof that Lygia was in the palace by the will QUO VADIS. 93 of Caesar. To his surprise, the chief centurion smiled at him in a friendly way, and approaching him, said: “Greetings, noble Tribune. If thou desire an audience with Caesar, thou hast chosen an inopportune time. I do not think that thou wilt be able to see him.” “What has happened?” asked Vinitius. “The divine little Augusta was suddenly taken ill yester- day. Caesar and Poppaea are at her bedside with physicians whom they have summoned from all parts of the city.” This was a matter of importance. When the infant was born Caesar had became almost insane from joy and received her with divine honors. Tven before the birth the Senate had solemnly committed it to the guardianship of the gods. After the birth splendid games were celebrated and a temple was erected to the two Fortunes. Nero, extreme in every- thing, loved the child beyond measure. It was dear also to Poppaea, if only for this reason, that it strengthened her posi- tion and made her influence irresistible. On the health and life of this infant might depend the fate of the whole Em- pire. But Vinitius was so carried away with his love, that, paying no attention to the news, he answered: “I only wish to see Actea.” But Actea also was in attendance upon the child, and Vini- tius had to wait long before seeing her. She came only about noon, with a pale and weary face, which paled still more at sight of Vinitius. “Actea,” cried he, seizing her hand and drawing her to the middle of the room, “where is Lygia?” “T was going to ask thee concerning her,” she answered, reproachfully. Though he had determined to question her calmly, Vinitius now clasped his head in his hands, while his face grew dis- torted with grief and anger, and he said: “She has disap- peared. She was seized on the way to my house.” Then he grew calmer, and, bringing his face close to Ac- tea’s, he hissed through his teeth: “A ctea—if thy life is dear to thee, if thou desirest not to be the cause of unimaginable misfortunes, tell me the truth: did Caesar take her?” “Qaesar was not away from the palace yesterday.” “By the shade of thy mother, in the name of all the gods, is she not hidden in the palace?” “Marcus, by the shade of my mother, she is not inthe palace 94 QUO VADIS. and Caesar did not take her. The infant Augusta has been sick since yesterday and Caesar has not left her cradle.” Vinitius breathed more freely. What had seemed to him the most terrible of possibilities was removed from his path. “Then,” said he, sitting on the bench and clenclting his fists, “Aulus and Pomponia have taken her—woe to them.” “Aulus Plautius was here this morning. I could not see him because I was busy with the infant, but he made in- quiries of Epaphroditus and other servants of the palace con- cerning Lygia and told them he would come again to see me.” “He wished to avert suspicion from himself. If he really knew not what had become of Lygia he would have sought her in my house.” “He left a few words for me on a tablet. These will show thee that Aulus, knowing Caesar had taken Lygia from him at the request of thyself and of Petronius, feared that the maiden had been sent to thy house. This morning he went there, and was informed of what had happened.” With these words Actea went to the bed-room and returned with the tablet which Aulus had left for her. Vinitius read it and became silent. Actea, guessing his thoughts from the gloomy expression of his face, said: “No, Marcus, what Lygia herself desired, has happened.” “Didst thou know that she desired to escape?” exclaimed Vinitius, wrathfully. Fixing her sad eyes upon him she answered, almost sternly: “T knew that she would not become thy concubine.” “And thou, what hast thou been all thy life?” “T was first of all a slave.” But the anger of Vinitius could not be calmed. Caesar had given Lygia to him, consequently he did not need to in- quire what had been her previous condition. He would find her even if she were hidden in the bowels of the earth, and he would do what he pleased with her; she should be his slave. He would have her flogged as often as he pleased. When he ceased to love her he would bestow her on the lowest of his slaves, or he would send her to turn a handmill on his Africau estates. He would begin his search for her at once, and find her that he might punish her, that he might trample upon her and compel her obedience. As his anger grew he placed no limits to his vengeance, so that even Actea perceived that he was threatening more than he could perform, under the influence of anger and QUO VADIS. 95 despair. She would probably have felt pity for his sufferings had not his extravagant rage exhausted her patience, so that at last she inquired why he had come to her. Vinitius did not find an immediate answer. He had come to her because he had wanted to come, because he thought she would give him some information; but really he had come to see Caesar, but not being admitted to him he had asked for her. Liygia’s flight had been disobedience to the will of Caesar. Therefore he would petition Nero to give command that she should be sought over the whole city and over the entire Empire, even if this entailed the aid of all the legions and the searching of every house throughout the Em- pire. Petronius would support this petition, and the search would begin at once. “Beware,” said Actea, “lest when she is found thou lose her forever at the command of Caesar.” “What dost thou mean?” Vinitius asked, with wrinkled brows. : “Listen to me, Marcus, yesterday I was walking with Lygia in the gardens; we met Poppaea with the infant Augusta, borne by the Egyptian, Lilith. At evening the infant fell ill. Lilith declares that the child was bewitched. She accuses the foreign woman whom they met in the gardens. If the child recovers they will forget all about this, but if not Pop- paea will be the first to accuse Lygia of witchcraft, and then whenever she is found nothing can save her.” There was a moment of silence, which Vinitius was the first to break. “Perhaps she did bewitch the child and has bewitched me.” “Lilith says that the child began to cry immediately after she had passed us. This is true in fact. No doubt the child was ill when they brought it into the garden. Marcus, search for Lygia wherever thou pleasest, but until the little one re- covers mention not her name to Caesar, or thou wilt bring down upon her the vengeance of Poppaea. Her eyes have shed tears enough already on thy account. May all the gods protect her now.” “Dost thou love her, Actea?” asked Vinitius sadly. Tears sprang to the eyes of the freed woman. “Yes, I love her.” “But she did not repay thee with hatred as she did me.” Actea looked at him as if hesitating, or as if she wished to test his sincerity. Then she said: 96 QUO VADIS. “Oh, blind and passionate man, she loved thee.” Vinitius sprang up as if possessed; “that is false,” he said, “she hates me.” How could Actea know? It was hardly possible that Ly- gia, after one day’s acquaintance, would make such a con- fession to her. What kind of love was that which would pre- fer wandering, poverty, the uncertainty of the morrow, per- haps even a shameful death, to a house bedecked with green wreaths where a lover was in waiting with a banquet all pre- pared? Better he should not hear such words lest he go mad. He would not have exchanged the girl for all the treasures of the Palatine—and she had fled. What kind of love was that that feared delight and courted pain? Who could un- derstand it? Who could explain it? But for his hope of finding her he would fall upon his sword. Love surrenders, it does not run away. There were moments in the house of Aulus when he felt that happiness was near, but now he was convinced that she hated him, and would die with that hatred in her heart. Actea, naturally gentle and timid, now burst forth with indignant reproaches. How had he tried to win the love of Lygia? Instead of asking Aulus and Pomponia to give her to him, he had taken her away from her guardians by stealth. He wished not to make her his wife but his concubine, she, the foster daughter of an honorable family and the daughter of a king. He had brought her to an abode of vice and in- famy, he had defiled her innocent eyes with the spectacle of a shameful orgy, he had treated her as a harlot. Had he for- gotten what sort of man was Aulus and what sort of woman Pomponia, they, who had brought up Lygia? Had he not wit enough to understand that women existed quite different from Nigidia or Calvia Crispinilla or Poppaea, and from all those whom he met in Caesar’s house? Had not a conviction forced itself upon his mind at his first sight of Lygia that so pure a soul would prefer death to shame? Did he not know that the Gods she worshipped were better and purer than the dissolute Venus, or Isis, who were honored by the corrupt women of Rome? No, Lygia had made no confession to her. But she had said that she hoped Vinitius would save her; she hoped Caesar, through Vinitius’s petition, would al- low her to return home; she hoped that Vinitius would restore her to Pomponia. While speaking Lygia had become con- fused, as a maiden who loves and trusts. Her heart had beat for him but he had terrified her and made her indignant— QUO VADIS. 97 and now let him seek for her with the aid of Caesar’s cohorts, but let him know that should Nero’s child die, suspicion must fall upon her, and her ruin would be inevitable. In spite of his rage and pain what Actea had said affected Vinitius. Her assurance that Lygia loved him thrilled him to the very soul. He recalled how she had blushed and how her eyes had become radiant with light when she had listened to his words in the house of Aulus. Yes, at that time love was touching her heart. The thought filled him with de- light, and then he saw that he might have won her through peaceful means and have possessed himself of her heart. She might have put twine on his door, rubbed it with wolf’s fat, and sat as his wife on a sheepskin by his hearth. He might have heard from her lips the words sanctioned by custom: “Where thou art, Caius, there an. I Caia,” and she might have belonged to him forever. Why had he not acted thus? Did he not wish to marry her? Now that she had gone, now that he might never find her, or, finding her, might cause her ruin. Or even if he did not bring ruin upon her, neither Lygia nor Aulus might listen to his proposals. Again anger seized him. But it was now turned, not against Aulus or Pomponia, or Lygia, but against Petronius. He was the one at fault. Had it not been for him Lygia would not be wandering about now. She would be his bride and no danger would threaten her life. Now all was over; matters could no longer be mended. Now it was too late. An abyss seemed to yawn at his feet. What was he to do, what meas- ures could he take? Like an echo Actea repeated the words “too late.” Falling from another’s lips they sounded like a death sentence. One thing, however, was certain. He must find Lygia, otherwise some terrible evil would befall him. Mechanically wrapping himself in his toga he was on the point of leaving without even bidding farewell to Actea, when suddenly the curtain that separated the vestibule from the hall was thrust aside, and he saw before him the sad face of Pomponia. Evidently she also had heard of Lygia’s disappearance, and, judging that she could easily gain admittance to Actea, she had come for information. Seeing Vinitius she turned toward him her pale, delicate face and exclaimed: “Marcus, may God forgive thee the wrong thou hast done to us and to Lygia.” 7 98 QUO VADIS. He hung his head, feeling both unhappy and guilty, yet not understanding what God was to forgive nor why Pom- ponia spoke of forgiveness when she ought to have spoken of revenge. At length he departed, tormented by sad thoughts, despair and perplexity. In the courtyard and in the gallery were crowds of people. Mingled with slaves of the Palace were knights and Senators come to inquire after the health of the little Augusta, and at the same time to show themselves in the Palace and give a proof of their devotion in the presence of Caesar’s slaves. The news of the illness of the little divinity had evidently spread quickly, for every moment visitors arrived, and through the archways crowds of people could be seen. Some of the recent arrivals noticing Vinitius coming out of the Palace stopped him for news, but he hurried on without an- swering them, until he ran against Petronius. Doubtless Vinitius would have been seized with rage at sight of Petronius and committed some unlawful act in Caesar’s Palace, were it not that when he had left Actea’s chamber he was so crushed and humiliated that for the mo- ment his innate irascibility had left him. Vinitius pushed Petronius aside and was about to continue his way but the lat- ter detained him. “Tow fares the divine infant?” This forcible detention aroused anew the anger of Vinitius. “May Hell swallow her and all this house,” he hissed through his teeth. “Be silent, unhappy man,” said Petronius, and, looking about, he hastily added: “If thou desirest to learn some- thing about Lygia, follow me. No, I will say nothing here! Follow me, I will explain my surmises in the litter.” Placing his arm about the young man, he led him out of the Palace as quickly as possible. ‘This was his aim, for he had no news whatever about Lygia. But as a man of resources, who, in spite of yesterday’s indignation felt compassion for Vinitius, together with a certain responsibility for what had happened, he had taken some measures already. When they were seated in the litter he said: “I have ordered my slaves to watch at every gate, giving them minute descriptions of the maiden and of that giant who carried her out from Caesar’s feast, for doubtless he is the one who recaptured her from thy slaves. Hearken! Aulus and QUO VADIS. 99 Pomponia may have wished to hide her away on one of their estates. If so we will find in what direction she was con- ducted. If she passes none of the gates, then this will be proof that she is still in the city, and we will begin to search for her in Rome to-day.” “Aulus and Pomponia know not where she is,” answered Vinitius. “Art thou sure of that?” “T have seen Pomponia, and she also is searching for her.” “She could not have left the city yesterday, for the gates are closed at night. Two of my slaves are watching each gate, one is to follow Lygia and the giant and the other is to return immediately and inform me. If she be in Rome we shall find her, for the Lygian can easily be recognized by his height and the breadth of his shoulders. It is lucky that she was not carried away by Caesar. I can assure you that it was not he for I know all the secrets of the Palace.” Vinitius broke out rather in sorrow than in anger. In a voice broken by emotion, he told Petronius all he had heard from Actea. He explained the new dangers which threat- ened Lygia, that now, in case they found her, they must needs hide her from Poppaea. Then he reproached Petronius bit- terly for his advice. Had it not been for him, everything would have been well. Jiygia would have been in the house of Aulus, Vinitius could have seen her every day,and he would now be a happier man than Caesar. Carried away by his own words, he became more and more agitated, until at last tears of sorrow and anger coursed down his cheeks. Petronius, who had not thought the young Tribune capable of such passion, beholding his tears, said to himself with wonder: “Oh, mighty sovereign of Cyprus, thou alone art the ruler of gods and men!” CHAPTER XII. When they alighted before the house of Petronius, the chief of the hall informed him that none of the slaves sent to the gates had as yet returned. He had given orders that food should be brought them, and that on the penalty of a flogging they should carefully watch all who left the city. ioe QUO VADIS. “See!” said Petronius, “they are still within the city, and we cannot fail to find them. Give orders to thy slaves also that they watch the city gates, selecting those especially who formed Lygia’s escort, for they will easily recognize her.” “T have given orders that those slaves should be sent to my country estates,” answered Vinitius, “but I will recall my orders and send them to the gates.” : When he had written a few words on a tablet covered with wax, he handed the tablet to Petronius, who ordered it sent immediately to the house of Vinitius. Then they entered the inner portico, and sitting on a marble bench, began to con- verse. The golden-haired Eunice and Iris placed bronze foot- stools beneath their feet, and moving a table near the bench, poured wine into goblets out of beautiful, long-necked jars, imported from Volaterrae and Caecina. “Do any of thy slaves know this gigantic Lygian?” asked Petronius. “Only Atacinus and Gulo knew him; but Atacinus was killed beside the litter, and I slew Gulo.” “T am sorry for him,” said Petronius. “He carried in his arms not only thee, but me also.” “T was going to free him,” replied Vinitius. “But let that rest. Let us speak of Lygia. Rome is a sea—” “A sea isa place in which to find pearls. We shall not find her to-day, of course, nor to-morrow, but sooner or later we shall find her. Just now thou didst reproach me for having advised thee to take the course which thou didst, but the advice in itself was good; it became bad because of unfavor- able circumstances. Besides, thou thyself hast heard from Aulus that he intends to go to Sicily with all his family. So Lygia would in any event have been far away from thee.” “I should have followed her,” replied Vinitius, “and in any case she would have been out of danger; but now if this infant dies, Poppaea will believe, and will persuade Caesar to believe, that Lygia caused the death.” “True; this thought has alarmed me also. But the little doll may get well. If it dies, we shall find some means of escape.” Petronius, after a moment’s thought, added: “Poppaea, it is said, believes in the faith of the Jews, and in evil spirits. Caesar is superstitious. If we spread the rumor that Lygia has been carried away by evil spirits it will be believed, since neither Caesar nor Aulus have carried her off; therefore, it QUO VADIS. IOI will be believed that she was spirited away. The Lygian could not have rescued her alone. It is evident that others helped him. But how could a slave collect so many people in q a day?” “In Rome slaves help one another.” “But someone pays for it with blood. True, they help one another, but not when it is against the interest of other slaves. On this occasion it was known that your slaves would be held responsible and punished. If thou give thy slaves the idea of evil spirits, they will assert that they saw them with their own eyes, for this would justify them before thee. Ask any one of them if he did not see Lygia borne through the air, and he will swear at once by the Aegis of Zeus that this was just what happened.” Vinitius, who was himself superstitious, looked with awe at Petronius, and said: “Tf Ursus could not get slaves to help him, and was not able to take her alone, who did take her?” Petronius laughed. “See,” said he; “how can they dis- believe if thou believest? Such is our world which laughs at the gods. All will believe, and cease searching for her, and meantime we will hide her in one of our villas.” “But who could have helped her?” “Her co-religionists,” answered Petronius. “What co-religionists? What deity do they worship? 1 ought to know better than thou.” “Nearly every Roman woman worships a different deity. Doubtless Pomponia has brought up Lygia to worship the deity which she adores, but what deity this is I do not know. i One thing is certain—no one has seen her make offerings to any god in our temples. She has been accused even of being : a Christian, but this is not possible; a secret investigation cleared her from this charge. It is said that Christians not only worship the head of an ass, but that they are enemies of the human race, and that they revel in the most terrible crimes. Consequently Pomponia cannot be a Christian, for she is a good woman. Were she a hater of humanity she would not treat her slaves so kindly.” “In no house are they so well treated as in that of Aulus,” added Vinitius. “Pomponia told me of a God who was one, powerful, and merciful. What she has done with all the other gods is her affair. But this Logos of hers cannot be very powerful, or, Bae 762 QUO VADIS. rather, he must be a poor kind of a God if He is worshipped only by Pomponia and Lygia and Ursus. It may be that there are more adherents of this God, and they assisted Lygia.” “Their faith commands forgiveness,” said Vinitius. “In Actea’s chamber I met Pomponia, and she said to me, ‘May God forgive you the wrong you have done to Lygia and to us.’ 29 “Evidently their God is a very mild being. Let Him for- give thee, then, and as a sign of His forgiveness let Him restore the maiden to thee.” “T would offer him a hecatomb to-morrow! I have desire neither for food nor sleep nor for the bath. I shall put on dark raiment and wander through the city. Perhaps I shall find her in disguise. I am sick.” Petronius gazed at him compassionately. There were dark streaks beneath the eyes of Vinitius; his pupils were bright with fever; his unshaven beard made a bluish shade over his jaw; his hair was disordered; he looked indeed like a sick man. Iris and the golden-haired Eunice gazed at him also with commiseration. But he seemed not to notice them. Neither he nor Petronius paid any more attention to the presence of the slave women than if they were dogs moving about the room. “Thou art feverish,” said Petronius. “Yes,” “Hearken! I know not what a physician would prescribe for thee, but I know what I would do in thy place. Till Lygia is found I would replace the lost one with a substitute. I have seen beautiful women in thy house. Contradict me not. I know what love is, and I know that if love is pro- voked by one woman another cannot satisfy it. Nevertheless, a beautiful slave will afford at least a temporary distraction.” “JT do not wish it,” replied Vinitius. But Petronius, who was sincerely attached to him, and who was anxious to relieve his suffering, began to consider how this might best be done. “Perhaps thy slaves do not possess for thee the charm of novelty,” said he. He glanced first at Iris, and then at Eunice. At last he laid his hand on the hip of the golden- haired Grecian and resumed: “Look at this nymph! But a few days ago the young Fonteius Capiton offered for her three beautiful boys from Clazomeme. Scopas himself has not QUO VADIS. 103 chiseled a more beautiful form. I cannot tell why I have been cold to her since thoughts of Chrysothemis have not restrained me. Here, I give her to thee; take her.” When the golden-haired Eunice heard these words she grew white as a sheet. Looking with frightened eyes at Vinitius, she seemed benumbed while she awaited his an- swer. But the young soldier sprang up from the bench and, pressing his temples with his hands, began to speak hurriedly, as a man who, tormented by pain, does not wish to listen to any soothing words. “No, no, I do not care for her, I do not care for any other woman. I thank thee, but I do not want her. J am going to search for Lygia throughout the city. Have a Gallic cloak with a hood brought to me. I shall go to the trans-Tiber. Oh, if I can succeed merely in seeing Ursus!” Then he withdrew hurriedly. Petronius, seeing that he could not stay still in any one place, did not attempt to detain him. Taking his refusal as a manifestation of a temporary aversion for all women except Lygia, but wishing still to be be generous, he said, turning to Eunice: “Kunice, bathe thyself, anoint thy body with perfumes, then dress and go to the house of Vinitius.” The Grecian woman fell on her knees, and stretching out her hands, implored him not to send her away from his house. She would not go to Vinitius. She would prefer to carry wood to the furnaces of the baths of Petronius than to be the chief servant in that of Vinitius. She would not, she could not go. She implored him for pity. Let him have her flogged daily, but let him not send her away from his house. Trembling like a leaf with fear and excitement, Eunice extended her imploring hands to Petronius, who listened with astonishment. A slave woman who dared to answer a command with a prayer, declaring “I will not and I cannot,” was something so unheard of in Rome that Petronius could not believe his ears. Finally he frowned. He was too re- fined to be cruel. He gave more freedom to his slaves than other masters, demanding only that they should render good service and honor his will like that of a god. But if his slaves violated either of these requirements, Petronius had them punished in the usual fashion. Besides, he could not endure opposition or anything that ruffled his peace of mind. So he looked at the kneeling slave, and said: 104 QUO VADIS., “Call Tiresias, and return with him.” She arose, trem- bling, with tears in her eyes, and retired, returning soon with the chief of the hall servants, the Cretan Tiresias. “Take Eunice,” said Petronius, “and give her twenty-five lashes, but in such a way as not to disfigure her skin.” Then he went into his library, and, sitting at the rose- colored marble table, he commenced work on his “Feast of Trimalchion.” But Lygia’s escape and the illness of the little Augusta distracted his thoughts so much that he did | not work long. The important question at present was the; illness of the infant. Petronius saw that if Caesar believed Lygia to have bewitched the young Augusta, the blame might fall on him also, for the maiden had been brought to the Palace at his request.. But he hoped that as soon as he saw Caesar he would convince him of the absurdity of such a sup- position. He relied somewhat also on a certain weakness which Poppaea had for him—a weakness which she had not succeeded in concealing from him. After a time he shrugged his shoulders, having convinced himself that his fears were groundless, and he decided to take his meal in the dining hall. After that he would go in his litter to the Palace, next to the Campus Martius, and finally to Chrysothemis. On his way to the dining hall, at the entrance to the corridor assigned to the slaves, Petronius noticed the shapely figure of Eunice. For- getting that he had given no order to Tiresias beyond that of flogging her, he frowned and looked around for that official. Not seeing Tiresias among the salves, he turned to Eunice. “Hast thou been flogged?” “Yes, master, I have been flogged. Oh, yes, master!” Joy and gratitude blended in her voice. She evidently thought that the punishment had been given in place of send- ing her away from the house, and that now she might re- main. Petronius, seeing this, marvelled at the passionate resistance of the slave; he was too deep a student in human nature not to understand that only love could call forth such resistance. “Dost thou love someone in this house?” She looked at him with her blue eyes dim with tears, and answered in a voice so low that it could scarcely be heard: “Yes, master.” Eunice, with her wonderful eyes, with her golden hair flowing down her back, with an expression of hope and fear upon her face, was so beautiful that Petronius, who, as a philosopher, recognized the power of love, and as QU0 VADIS. 105 an aesthete rendered homage to all beauty, felt pity for the slave. “Whom of these dost thou love?” he inquired, turning towards the slaves. No answer came. Eunice bent her head down to his very feet, and remained motionless as a statue. Petronius looked around at the slaves, among whom were some beautiful and shapely youths. None of the faces ex- plained anything to him; he saw only strange smiles. He looked again at Eunice, who was lying at his feet, and then went on in silence to the dining hall. When he had eaten, he gave orders that he should be carried to the Palace, and from there to Chrysothemis, where he remained until late in the night. On his return he summoned Tiresias. “Didst thou punish Eunice?” “Yes, master. But thou didst command me not to dis- figure her skin.” “Did I give any other command?” “No, master,” answered the slave, with alarm. “Very good. Whom of the slaves does she love?” “None, master.” “What dost thou know about her?” - Tiresias answered in an uncertain voice: “Eunice does not leave the bed room at night in which she lives with old Acrisiona and Ifida. After thou art dressed she never goes to the bath rooms. Other slaves laugh at her, and call her Diana.” “Enough,” said Petronius. “My relative Vinitius, to whom I offered her this morning, did not want her, hence she may remain here. Thou mayest go.” “May I speak, master, a few more words concerning Eu- nice?” “T commanded thee to tell all thou knowest about her.” “The entire household is talking about the escape of the maiden who was to dwell in the house of Vinitius. After thy departure Eunice came to me and said that she knew a man who could find this maiden.” “Who is this man?” asked Petronius. “T do not know him, master, but I thought I ought to tell thee about the matter.” “?Tis well. Let that man await to-morrow the arrival of the Tribune, whom in my name thou wilt summon hither.” The slave bowed and departed. The thoughts of Petro- 106 QUO VADIS. nius dwelt on Eunice. It was clear to him that the young slave woman wished Vinitius to find Lygia, so that she should not be compelled to be her substitute in the house of the Tribune. It occurred to him that the man who she had proposed for the search might be her lover. Somehow this thought hurt him. It would not be difficult to get at the truth; he had only to summon Eunice, but it was now late, and Petronius feeling weary after his long visit to the house of Chrysothemis, desired to sleep. On the way to his chamber he recalled for some unknown reason that he had noticed wrinkles that day in the corners of Chrysothemis’s eyes. It came to his mind also that her reputation for beauty was greater than she deserved; and that Fonteius Capiton who had offered three boys for Eunice, wished to buy her too cheaply. CHAPTER XIII. Next morning Petronius had scarcely dressed himself ere Vinitius, who had been summoned by Tiresias, appeared. He was aware that no news had come from the gates. This, in- stead of consoling him as proof that Lygia was still in the city, troubled him, for that he feared Ursus had carried her out of the city immediately after her rescue, and consequentiy before the slaves of Petronius had been sent to watch the gates. True, in Autumn the gates were closed earlier on account of the short days, but then they were open for the people going out. Of these there were always a great many. One could pass out of the city also by other ways, known for instance to slaves who contemplated an escape. Vinitius had dispatched his slaves to all the roads leading to the Prov- inces, instructing them to carry alarms to all the watchmen in the smaller towns, and to furnish minute descriptions of Ursus and Lygia and to offer a reward for their capture. But it might be doubted whether the fugitives could be overtaken, or, if so, whether the local officials would arrest them at the private instance of Vinitius, unsupported by the Pretor. Vinitius had no time to gain such support. Disguised as a slave he had sought for Lygia the entire previous day in every corner of the city, but he could not find any clue. True, he QUO VADIS. « 107 had met the slaves of Aulus, who were also seeking for some- thing, and this confirmed his belief that Aulus and Pomponia had not taken Lygia away, and that they did not know what had become of her. - So, when Tiresias had informed him that there was a man who would undertake to find Lygia, Vinitius rushed to the house of Petronius, and, barely greeting him, began to inquire about that man, “We shall soon see him,” said Petronius. “He is an ac- quaintance of Eunice. She is even now coming to fold my toga. She will give us additional information.” “Ts that the slave woman whom thou didst wish to give me yesterday?” “The one whom thou didst reject, for which, by the way, I am grateful, as she is the best robe-folder in the city.” He had barely finished when Eunice entered. Taking the toga which was lying on.a chair inlaid with ivory, she opened the garment to throw it over Petronius’s shoulders. Her pretty face brightened, and joy was reflected in her eyes. Petronius looked at her and she appeared beautiful to him. While she was wrapping him up in the toga, bending now and again to smooth the folds, he noticed that her arms were of a wonderful pale rose color, and that her bosom and shoulders were transparent, like mother-of-pearl or alabaster. “Eunice,” said he, “has the man come of whom thou didst speak yesterday to Tiresias?” “Yes; master.” “What is his name??” “Chilo Chilonides, master.” “Who is he?” “A physician, sage and soothsayer who can read the book of fate and forecast the future.” “Did he forecast thy future?” A rosy blush spread over the ears and neck of Kunice as she answered. “Yes; master.” “What did he predict?” “That pain and happiness should be my lot.” “Pain thou didst suffer yesterday at the hands of Tiresias, hence the prediction about happiness should also be realized.” “Tt is realized already, master.” “What is this happiness?” “That I remain,” she replied in a low voice. 108 QUO VADIS. Petronius put his hand on her golden head. “Thou hast arranged the folds well to-day and I am pleased with thee, Eunice.” As his hand touched her head her eyes grew moist and her bosom began to heave quickly. Petronius and Vinitius went into the ante-chamber, where Chilo Chilonides was waiting for them. The latter bowed low on their entrance. Petronius smiled at thought of his suspicion of yesterday that this man might be Eunice’s lover. This man could be no woman’s lover. His queer figure was at once repulsive and ridiculous. He was not old. Only a few gray hairs showed in his straggly beard and curled locks. He had a lank stomach. His shoulders stooped so that a cursory glance might have mistaken him for a humpback. Above his bent shoulders was a large head that seemed a cross between the face of a monkey and a fox. His eyes were bright and inquisitive. His jaundiced face was ornamented with pimples, which concentrated on his nose, suggesting an excessive love for the bottle. His disordered attire, consist- ing of a dark tunic of goat’s wool and a ragged mantle of sim- ilar material, indicated poverty, real or pretended. At sight of him Petronius was reminded of Homer’s Thersites. So, answering Chilo’s bow with a wave of his hand, he said: “I greet thee, divine Thersites; how are the lumps which Ulysses gave thee at Troy, and how is he himself in the Elysian fields?” “Noble lord,” answered Chilo, “Ulysses, the wisest of the dead, sends through me to Petronius, the wisest of the living, his greetings, and requests that thou shouldst cover my lumps with a new mantle.” “By Hecate!” exclaimed Petronius, “the answer merits a new mantle.” Vinitius impatiently interrupted the conversation and asked Chilo point-blank: “Art thou sufficiently acquaint with the problem thou hast to solve?” “Tt is not difficult to learn what the question is,’ answered Chilo, “when the slaves of two lordly mansions speak of nothing else, and when it is the current gossip of half of Rome. Night before last, a maiden called Lygia, a ward of Aulus Plautius, was carried away while thy slaves were bearing her from Caesar’s palace to thy house. I offer to find her in Rome, or if she has left the city, which seems im- Copyright, 1297, Henry Altemus. THE GOLDEN-HAIRED EUNICE. QUO VADIS. 109 probable, I shall discover for thee, noble Tribune, whither she has fled and where she is hiding.” “-is well,” said Vinitius, pleased with the confidence of the answer, “what means hast thou to accomplish this?” Chilo smiled shrewdly: “Thou, master, hast the means. I have only the wit.” Petronius smiled also, for he was fully satisfied with his visitor. “This man can find the maiden,” thought he. Vi- nitius frowned and said, “If thou deceivest me for gain, I will bestow a flogging upon thee.” “T am a philosopher, master, and a philosopher cannot be tempted by gain, especially such as thou dost promise so mag- nanimously.” , “Tlow! art thou a philosopher? Eunice told me thou wert a physician and soothsayer. How didst thou make Eunice’s acquaintance?” “She came to ask my advice, for my fame had reached her ears.” “What advice did she desire?” “Master, she desired to be cured of unrequited love.” “Didst thou cure her?” “IT did more than that. JI gave her an amulet which in- sures reciprocation. In Paphos, on the Island of Cyprus, there is a temple wherein a girdle of Venus is preserved. 1 procured her two threads from that girdle, enclosed in an almond shell.” “And no doubt thou hast received a good price for it?” “One can never pay enough for reciprocated love. And I, who have lost two fingers of my right hand, am saving money in order to buy a slave copyist, that he may write down my thoughts and preserve my wisdom for mankind.” “To what school dest thou belong, venerable sage?” “Master, I am a cynic, because I wear a tattered mantle. I am stoic because I bear want patiently; I am a peripatetic because, not owning a litter, I walk from one wine shop to another, teaching on the way those who promise to pay for a pitcher of wine.” “And does the pitcher change thee into a rhetorician?” “Heraclitus says that all is fluid. Thou canst not deny that wine is fluid.” “And he taught also that fire is a divinity; divinity there- fore is perched upon thy nose.” “The divine Diogenes of Apollonia taught that the uni- arg Quo VADIS. verse is created from air, and that the warmer the air, the more perfect are the created beings. And as in autumn the air is cold, ergo, a genuine sage ought to warm his soul with wine. Thou canst not deny, master, that a pitcher even of the stuff made in the environs of Capua or Telesia would now impart warmth to all the bones of a perishable human body.” : «Where is thy birthplace, Chilo?” “On the Euxine Pontus. I come from Mesembria.” “Thou art a great man, Oh, Chilo.” “But unrecognized,” said the sage in a mournful tone. Vinitius’s impatience increased. Because of the hope that Chilo had raised, he wished him to begin his search at once; hence he regarded the conversation as a waste of time and felt wroth with Petronius. “When wilt thou begin the search?” he said, turning to the Greek. “T have begun it already,” was the answer. “Even here, even in answering thy courteous questions, I am still search- ing. Confide in me, noble Tribune. Know that if thou wert to lose the string from off thy sandal, I would find it, or him who picked it up.” “Hast thou ever performed such services?” asked Petro- nius. The Greek lifted his eyes to heaven. “Nowadays wisdom and virtue are so little esteemed that a philosopher is forced to seek other means of earning a live- lihood.” “What other means hast thou?” “To find out everything, and to furnish information for all who wish it.” “And who pays for it?” “Ah, master, I must buy a copyist, otherwise my wisdom will perish with me.” “Tf thou hast not saved enough money to buy a new man- tle, thy services evidently are not very valuable.” “Modesty forbids my speaking of them. But, master, take into consideration the fact that there are no longer so many benefactors as of old, for whom it was as great a pleasure to cover a body with gold for services rendered as to swallow an oyster from Puteoli. It is not my services that are small, but the gratitude of men. If a slave escapes, who will find him, if not the son of my father? When on the walls ap- QUO VADIS. III pear inscriptions against the divine Poppaea, who else will indicate the authors? Who will unearth in the bookshops verses against Caesar? Who will tell of conversations held in the houses of Senators and Patricians? Who will deliver letters which cannot be entrusted to slaves? Who will listen to the gossip of the barber shops? From whom have the wine and bake shops no secrets? In whom do slaves trust? Who can see at a glance through any house, from the innet chamber to the garden? Who knows every street and by- way and hidden den? Who knows what is talked of in the baths, in the circus, in the markets, in the gymnasiums, in the stalls of the slave dealers, and even in the arenas?” “By the gods, enough! noble sage!” exclaimed Petronius, “otherwise we shall be drowned in thy virtues, thy wisdom and eloquence. Enough! we wished to know what thou art, and now we know.” Vinitius was pleased. Once put a man like this on the trail, he thought, and, houndlike, he would not stop until he had flushed the game. “Tis well,” said he. “Dost thou need clues?” “T need arms.” “What kind of arms?” asked Vinitius, perplexed. Chilo stretched out one hand, while with the other he made a motion as if counting money. “Such times as we live in!” he sighed. “This means that thou wilt be the ass who wins the fort- ress by means of gold,” remarked Petronius. “I am but a poor philosopher, master,” answered Chilo, with humility. “Thou hast the gold.” Vinitius tossed him a purse. The Greek caught it ere it fell, though two fingers were missing from his right hand. Then he raised his head and said: “Master, I know already more than thou dost suspect. I came not here empty-handed. I know that Aulus and his wife did not intercept the maiden, for I have questioned their slaves. I know that she is not in the Palatine Palace, for all there are occupied with the sick child; and perhaps J know also why thou preferest my aid in the search for the maiden to that of the guards and soldiers of Caesar. I know that her escape was effected by the co-operation of a slave who came from the same country as she. He could not have pro- cured assistance from slaves because slaves stand together, and would not have helped him against your slaves. Only his co-religionists could have given him aid.” irs QUO VADIS. “Harken to these words, Vinitius,” interrupted Petronius. “Have I not said the same thing to thee?” “Thou dost me a great honor,” said Chilo. “The maiden, master,” he continued, addressing himself again to Vinitius, “worships beyond doubt the same divinity as Pomponia, that most virtuous of all Roman matrons. I have heard that Pomponia was tried in secret for worshipping strange Gods, but 1 could not learn from her slaves what kind of divinities these are, and what their adherents are called. If I could learn this I should go to them and become the most devout among them and win their confidence. But thou, master, as is known to me, hast passed a few weeks in the house of Aulus, canst not thou give me some information about these Gods?” “I cannot,” answered Vinitius. “Thou hast questioned me long about various matters, and I have answered thee. Now allow me to question tliee. Hast thou not seen, noble Tribune, some statuette, some sac- rifice, some token or some amulet upon Pomponia or Lygia? Hast thou not seen them drawing some images intelligible to them alone?” “Yes, I once saw Lygia draw a fish on sand.” “A fish? A! a! O!o! Did she draw it once or many times?” “But once.” “And art thou sure that she drew a fish?” “Yes, Iam sure,” answered Vinitius, with interest. “Dost thou know what it means?” “Do I know!” exclaimed Chilo. Then bowing in sign of farewell, he said, “May fortune present you with all gifts, noble masters.” “Order a mantle to be brought to thee,” said Petronius at parting. “Ulysses thanks thee for Thersites,” answered the Greek, and bowing again, he left the room. _“What dost thou think of that noble sage?” asked Petro- nius. “I think that he will find Lygia,” exclaimed Vinitius, joy- fully. “But I think also that if there were a kingdom of knaves he would be crowned king there.” “Without doubt. I must get better acquainted with this Stoic. Meantime I will have this hall disinfected.” Chilo Chilonides, wrapt in his new mantle, felt beneath QUO VADIS. 113 its folds the purse which Vinitius had given him, and rejoiced. at its weight and jingle. Walking slowly and looking fur- tively around to see that he was followed by no one from the house of Petronius, he passed a portico of Livia, and, reaching the corner of the Virvius quarter, turned into the Suburra. “T must go to Sporus,” said he to himself, “and pour out a libation to Fortune. I have at last found what I have long been looking for. He is young, passionate, bountiful as the mines of Cyprus, and is ready to give for this Lygian linnct half of his fortune. I must deal with him carefully, how- ever, for his frowns forebode no good. Oh, the wolf-whelps rule the world to-day! I should not be so afraid of Petronius. Oh, Gods! to be a procurer pays better in these times than virtue. Ah! she drew a fish on the sand. May I choke my- self with goat’s cheese if I know the meaning of that symbol. But I shall find out! As fish live under water, and seeking under water is harder than on land, he shall pay me liberally for this fish. One more purse like this and I might cast aside the beggar’s wallet and purchase myself a slave. But suppose, oh, Chilo, if I advised thee to buy not a male but a female slave? I know thee! I am sure that thou wouldst say yea! Were she as beautiful as Hunice, for instance, thou wouldst grow young at her side. Moreover, thou wouldst draw from her a large and certain income. I sold that poor Eunice two threads from my old mantle. She is stupid. Nevertheless, if Petronius would give her to me, I would not reject her. Yea! yea! Chilo, thou hast lost both thy father and thy mother. Thou art an orphan; therefore, purchase a female slave to console thee. She must have shelter, there- fore Vinitius will hire a dwelling for her, in which thou also mayest abide; she must have raiment, therefore Vinitius will pay for it; and she must have food, therefore he will provide it. Oh, it is costly to live in this world! Oh, for the times when a farthing would buy as much pork and beans as one could hold in both hands, or a piece of goat’s entrails as long as the arm of a twelve-year-old boy. But here is that knave Sporus. ’Twill be easier to gain some information in the wineshop.” He entered the shop and ordered a pitcher of wine. Not- ing the distrustful look of the shopkeeper, he took a gold coin from the purse and threw it on the table. “Sporus,” he cried, “I worked to-day with Seneca from dawn until noon, and here, see what my friend hath given me!” 8 114 QUO VADIS. The big eyes of Sporus grew bigger still at sight of the coin. Ina twinkling the wine was placed before Chilo, who, moistening his fingers, drew a fish on the table and said: “Dost know what that means?” “A fish? A fish means a fish.” “Thou art stupid, though thou dost add so much water to the wine that one might find a fish in it. It is a symbol, which in the language of philosophers means ‘the smile of fortune.’ Shouldst thou divine it, thou, too, mightst make a fortune. And, look you, honor philosophy, or I shall change my wine shop, which my dear friend Petronius has long urged me to do.” CHAPTER XIV. For some days Chilo disappeared from sight. The infor- mation Vinitius had received from Actea that Lygia loved him, made him a hundred-fold more eager to find her. Through his slaves he instituted a careful search. He was both unwilling and unable to appeal to Caesar, whose atten- tion was now completely absorbed in the dangerous illness of the little Augusta. Nothing availed to help the child, neither sacrifices in the temples, nor prayers, nor vows, nor the skill of physicians, nor the magic spells to which they had recourse when the last hope had vanished. At the end of a week the infant died. The Court and the whole city of Rome were plunged in mourning. Caesar, who had been wild with delight at the birth of the child, was now equally wild with grief. Shutting himself up in his room, he re- fused food for two days. The Court was crowded with Sena- tors and Augustales, who hastened thither with their condo- lences. Caesar denied himself to all. The Senate assembled in extraordinary session, and proclaimed that the little Au- gusta was a goddess. The Senators decided to dedicate a temple to her and appoint a special priest for the service of the new goddess. In other temples sacrifices were also offer- ed to her. Statues were cast from precious metals. Her funeral was celebrated with unprecedented solemnity. The people marveled at the unrestrained grief to which Caesar surrendered himself. They wept with him, stretched out QUO VADIS. 115 their hands for gifts, and above all found amusement in the splendid pageant. The death of the little Augusta dlarmed Petronius. All Rome was aware that Poppaea ascribed it to witchcraft. The physicians eagerly caught up her words as a convenient excuse for their unsuccessful efforts. So like- wise did the priests whose sacrifices had proved unavailing, the soothsayers who trembled for their lives, and the people generally. Petronius was now glad that Lygia had disap- peared. He wished no evil to the house of Aulus, and espe- {cially he wished good to himself and to Vinitius. As soon as the cypress placed before the Palatine, as a sign of mourn- ing, had been removed, he went to the reception appointed for Senators and Augustales to learn how far Nero had credited the rumors of witchcraft and to neutralize the possible con- sequences. With his knowledge of Nero, he was convinced that though he did not believe in witchcraft he would feign believe, partly through self-deception, partly through a desire for revenge, but especially for the purpose of averting the suspicion that the gods were punishing him for his crimes. Petronius did not admit that Caesar had any deep or sincere love even for his own child, though he made a great show of attachment. But he had not the least doubt that Nero would pretend an exaggerated grief. Nor was he mistaken. Nero listened with stony face and fixed stare to the condolences of Knights and Senators. It was evident that even if he were suffering he was simultaneously taking thought of the impression which his despair made on others. He was posing as a Niobe and giving a representation of paternal sorrow, such as an actor might give on a stage. Yet even now he could not long re- tain his attitude of stony and silent sorrow. At one moment he would make a gesture as if casting dust upon his head, at another he groaned deeply. Seeing Petronius, he assumed a tone of tragic pathos, evidently wishing that all should hear him. “heu!” he cried. “Thou art the cause of her death. By thy advice the evil spirit was admitted to these walls, which at one glance smote the life out of her breast. Woe is me! Better that I had never seen the bright face of the sun god. Woe is me! Eheu! Eheu!” Gradually raising his voice he filled the chamber with ex- _ clamations of despair. Petronius saw that he must put every- thing to the hazard of a die. He stretched out his hand. 116 QUO VADIS. seized the kerchief, which was always around Caesar’s neck, and put it to Nero’s lips. “Caesar,” he cried, solemnly, “let Rome and the whole world perish from grief, but preserve thy voice for us!” All present were astonished. Caesar himself was stricken dumb for a moment. Petronius alone stood unmoved; he well knew what he was doing. He did not forget that Terp- nos and Diodorus had an order to close Caesar’s mouth when- ever his voice might be threatened by over-exertion. “Oh, Caesar!” continued Petronius, in the same sad and persuasive voice, “we have suffered an immense loss, but let this treasure remain to console us.” Nero’s face quivered. Tears stood in his eyes. Placing his arm on Petronius’ shoulder, he suddenly bent his head to his breast, and in a voice choked by sobs he began: “Only thou, Petronius, hast reminded me of this, only thou, Petronius, only thou!” Tigellinus grew yellow with envy. Again Petronius turned to Nero: “Go to Antium. There she appeared unto the world; thence issued thy joy; thither consolation will come thee. Let the sea air refresh thy divine throat; let thy breast breathe in the soft moisture of the air. We, thy loving ser- vants, will follow thee everywhere, and when we comfort thy sorrow with our friendship, thou wilt console us in turn with song.” “Yes,” answered Nero, sadly, “I will write a hymn in her honor, and will compose the music for it.” “And then thou wilt go to Baiae and revive under the warm rays of the sun.” “And later I will seek forgetfulness in Greece.” “In the land of poetry and song.” His mood of stony grief gradually dispersed like clouds that cover the sun. Then ensued a conversation, which though still full of signs of sorrow, was none the less enlivea- ed by plans for the coming journey. They spoke of the ex- hibitions that Caesar would make of his artistic skill, of the feasts that would be prepared for the expected arrival of Tiri- dates, King of Armenia. It is true, Tigellinus tried to bring up once more the matter of witchcraft, but Petronius took up the challenge with -full assurance of victory. “Tigellinus,” said he, “dost thou think that witchcraft can harm the gods?” i “Caesar himself hath spoken of spells,” answered the cour- ier. QUO VADIS. 117 “Twas grief speaking with his lips. But tell us what thou thinkest of them thyself?” “The gods are too powerful to be influenced by spells.” “And dost thou not acknowledge the divinity of Caesar and his family?” “It is finished,” exclaimed Eprius Marcellus, who stood close by, repeating the shout used in the circus when a gladi- ator had received a mortal blow. Tigellinus smothered his rage. Between him and Petronius had long existed a rivalry for the favor of Nero. Tigellinus had this advantage, that Nero observed no ceremony in his presence, but Petronius hitherto had always vanquished Tigellinus in every encounter of wit and judgment. And so it happened now. Tigellinus grew silent; he occupied himself merely by impressing upon his memory the names of the Senators who crowded around Petronius at the other end of the hall, in the expectation that after this victory he would become the prime favorite of Caesar. Petronius on leaving the palace, directed his litter to be borne to the house of Vinitius. He informed the latter of his encounter with Caesar and Tigellinus and added: “1 have removed all danger, not only from Aulus Plautius and Pomponia, but also from ourselves, and more particularly from Lygia. She will not now be pursued, for the reason that I have persuaded the Red-bearded ape to go to Antium, and then to Naples or Baiae. He will surely go. He has not yet made up his mind to an appearance before the Ro- man public in the theatre, but I know that for some time he has purposed to make a trial in Naples. Moreover, he is dreaming of a visit to Greece, where he wishes to sing in all the principal cities. After that, he will make a triumphal entry into Rome, with all the wreaths which the Greeklets may bestow upon him. In the meanwhile we will have an opportunity to search for Lygia without hindrance, and to ‘hide her in a safe place if we find her. But has not our noble philosopher returned yet?” “Thy noble philosopher is a cheat. He has not appeared, and we may be certain of never casting eyes upon him.” “Nay, I have a better opinion, if not of his honesty, at least of his wit. He has drawn blood once from thy purse; be assured that he will return, even were it only to draw blood a second time.” “Let him beware lest I draw his own blood.” 118 QUO VADIS. “Do not do that. Bear with him until thou art entirely convinced of his deceit. Give him no more money, but pro- mise him a liberal reward in case he brings thee correct’ in- formation. But thou thyself, what art thou doing in this matter?” “Two of my freedmen, Nimphidius and Demas, with sixty slaves, are in full pursuit. I have promised freedom to him who finds her. Further, I have sent special messen- gers to inquire of Ursus and the maiden, in all the inns lead- ing to Rome. Day and night, I myself traverse the city in the hope of a chance meeting.” “Whatever thou learnest inform me of it by letter. I must go to Antium.” “It is well.” “And if some fine morning thou wakest to say to thyself that it is not worth while to waste time and pains on a maid- en, then come thou to Antium, and there we will have plenty of women and amusement.” Vinitius strode with long steps across the floor. Petronius gazed at him for some time before he again broke silence. “Tell me frankly,” he said, at last, “not as a dreamer who conceals something within himself, but as a man of sense answering a friend. Art thou still carried away by Lygia?” Vinitius stopped for a moment, and gazed at Petronius as intently as if he had never seen him before. Then he re- sumed his walk. Evidently he was restraining an outburst. But the sense of his own impotence, the pain, the wrath and the ceaseless yearning which possessed him moved him to tears. His dim eyes spoke to Petronius with more force than the most eloquent words. After a moment’s thought the elder said: “’Tis not Atlas who bears the world on his shoulders, but wee and sometimes they play with it as with a all.” “True,” answered Vinitius. Then they bade each other farewell. But just then a slave announced that Chilo Chilo- nides was outside in the ante-chamber, awaiting permission to enter. Vinitius ordered his instant admittance. “Behold!” laughed Petronius. “Did I not tell thee so? By Hercules, preserve thy calm, otherwise he will subdue thee; not thou him.” “Salutations and honor to the noble soldier and Tribune, and to you, oh, master,” said Chilo, entering. “May your QUO VADIS. 119 good fortune equal your fame, and may your fame resound over the world from the pillars of Hercules to the uttermost boundaries.” “A greeting to thee, wise and virtuous law-giver,” answer- ed Petronius. Vinitius asked with assumed calmness, “What news hast thou brought?” “Master, on my first visit I brought thee hope, and now I bring assurance that the maiden will be found.” “Which means that the maiden is not yet found?” “True, master, but I have discovered the meaning of the sign she drew. I now know who are the people that rescued her, and I also know among what class of religionists she mast be sought.” Vinitius was on the point of leaping from the chair where- on he sat, but Petronius laid his hand on the young man’s shoulder and turning to Chilo said: “Speak on.” “Art thou certain, oh, master, that the maiden drew a fish upon the sand?” “Yes,” exclaimed Vinitius. “Then she is a Christian, and Christians have taken her away.” A moment of silence followed. “Hearken, Chilo,” said Petronius, “my kinsman hath set aside for thee a large reward for the finding of Lygia, and no smaller allowances of lashes if thou art striving to deceive him. In the first case, thou wilt be able to buy not merely one, but three copyists; in the second case, not all the philoso- phy of all the seven sages and thine own in addition will serve thee as a healing ointment.” “Master, this maiden is a Christian,” insisted the Greek. “Hearken, Chilo, thou art no fool. We know that Unia Sylana and Calvia Crispinilla accused Pomponia Graecina of professing the Christian superstition. It is also known to us that a private investigation acquitted her from this charge. Dost thou wish to renew it? Dost thou think thou wilt be able to convince us that both Pomponia and Lygia belong among the enenties of the human race, the poisoners of foun- tains and wells, the worshippers of an ass’s head, among 2 people who murder infants and who give themselves up to the foulest corruptions? Beware, Chilo! lest the thesis an- nounced by -thee be not turned back upon thee as an anti- thesis.” Chilo spread out his hands as a sign that it was not his fault, and said: 1386 QUO VADIS. “Lord, pronounce the following words in Greek: ‘Jesus Christ, Son of God, Saviour.’ ” “Well, I have done so, but what of that?” “Now take the first letters of each word, and form them in such a manner as to compose a new word.” “Fish!” cried Petronius, astonished. “Now thou seest why the symbol of a fish became the sym- bol of Christianity.” The argument of the Greek was so convincing that both the friends remained buried in thought. “Vinitius,” asked Petronius, “art thou not mistaken? Did she really draw a fish?” “By all the infernal gods, dost thou wish to drive me in- sane?” cried the young man, wrathfully. “Had she drawn a bird I should have said a bird.” “Tt follows that she is a Christian,” repeated Chilo. “Which means,” said Petronius, “that Pomponia and Lygia are poisoning wells, murdering kidnapped children, and giv- ing themselves up to corruption. Nonsense! Thou, Vini- tius, didst remain for some time in their house. I was not there long, but I know Aulus and Pomponia well enough. If a fish be the symbol of the Christians, which is really diffi- cult to deny, and if they are all Christians, then, by Proser- pina! it is evident that Christians are not what we suppose them.” “Master, thou speakest like Socrates,” replied Chilo. “Who has ever interrogated a Christian? Who is familiar with that creed? When, three years ago, I passed from Naples to Rome (oh, wherefore did I not remain there?), I was joined by one Glaucus, who was said to be a Christian, and in spite of this, I convinced myself that he was a good and virtuous man.” “Did this virtuous man inform thee of the meaning of the fish ?” “Master, on the road this honorable man was stabbed in an inn, and his wife and child were taken away from him by slave dealers. In their defense I lost these two fingers. But they say that there is no lack of miracles among Christians, _ so I hope that these two fingers may grow out again.” “How is that? Hast thou become a Christian?” “Since yesterday, oh, master, since yesterday. This fish has made me a Christian. See what power it has. In a few days I shall become one of the most zealous of believers, so QUO VADIS. 7 that I may be admitted to all their secrets. But when I am admitted, I shall learn where the maiden is. Then perchance my Christianity will pay me better than my philosophy. I made a vow to Mercury that if he aided me in finding the maiden I would sacrifice to him two heifers of the same age and size, whose horns I shall gild.” “Which means that your Christianity of yesterday, and your philosophy of the day before, allow thee to believe in Mercury?” “T always believe in what I need to believe in. Such is my philosophy, and it ought to harmonize with the taste of Mer- cury in especial. But you, worthy lords, know what a sus- picious god he is. He trusts not the vows of the most irre- proachable philosophers. Perchance he may desire the heifers in advance, but this involves a large outlay. Not every one can be a Seneca, and I cannot afford the expense, unless the noble Vinitius be willing to advance a portion of the promised reward.” “Not a farthing, Chilo,” said Petronius, “not a farthing. The liberality of Vinitius will surpass thy expectations, but not before thou findest Lygia, or showest her place of con- cealment. Mercury must trust thee for the two heifers, though I do not wonder that he does it unwillingly. I see Mercury has wit.” “Listen to me, worthy masters. The discovery I have made is a very great discovery. For, though I have not yet found the maiden, I have found the method by which she may be found. Ye have scattered freedmen and _ slaves throughout the city. Has any one of them given you a clue? No; I am the only one who has found one. I will say more. Among your slaves may be slaves of whom ye know nothing. This superstition hath spread itself everywhere. Instead of helping you they may betray you. It is even dangerous for me to be seen here. Therefore, thou, noble Petronius, swear Eunice to silence, and thou, noble Vinitius, announce that T am selling thee an ointment which secures certain victory for horses in the circus. I alone will seek her, and I alone will find the fugitives. But have faith in me, and know that whatever I receive in advance will be only a stimulus, for I will always hope to receive more, and will be more certain that the promised reward will not fail me. Yea, this is true. As a philosopher I have a contempt for money, though it is not scorned by Seneca, nor by Carnutus; yet these philosophers 122 QUO VADIS. have not lost two fingers in defense of some unfortunate. They can write themselves and leave their names to posterity. But, besides the slave whom I wish to buy, and Mercury, to whom I have promised two heifers (and ye know how dear cattle are at present), the search itself involves numerous ex- - penses. Listen to me patiently. During these last few days my feet have become sore from continuous walking. I have sdught converse with people in the wine shops, in the bak- eries, in the butcher shops, and with oil dealers and fisher- men. [I have run through all the streets and lanes; I have been in the dens of escaped slaves; I have lost large sums of money playing mora; I have been in laundries, in drying sheds, and in lunch rooms; I have met mule drivers and carvers, men who cure troubles of the bladder, and men who pull teeth.” “T have talked with dealers in dried figs; I have beenincem- eteries; and know ye my object in all this? *Twas in order to draw a fish everywhere, to look into peoples eyes and to hear what they might say when they saw this sign. For a long time I learnt nothing. Then at last I met an old slave at a fountain, drawing water and weeping. Approaching, I asked the cause of his tears. We both took our seats on the steps of the fountain, when he told me that all his life-time he has been saving up sesterces to redeem his beloved son from slavery; but his master, Pausa by name, on seeing the money, took it and kept the son in slavery. ‘And so I weep,’ said the old man, ‘for though I repeat ‘the will of God be done,’ yet I, a poor sinner, cannot restrain my tears.’ Then I moistened my finger in the pail of water and drew the figure of a fish, at which he remarked: ‘I also put my trust in Christ.’ Then I asked him: ‘Didst thou recognize me by this sign?’ and he answered: ‘Yea, may peace be with thee.’ I then began to question him and the old man told me all. His master Pausa is himself a freedman of the great Pausa. He ships along the Tiber to Rome, stone in boats, which slaves and hirelings unload and carry to buildings at night time so as not to obstruct the streets during the day. Many Christians are engaged in this work, and among them his son; but as the work is beyond his son’s strength, he desired to redeem him. But Pausa kept both the money and the slave. While relating this, the old man wept again and I followed his example, which was not difficult, because of my kind heart and the pain in my feet, caused by continual walking. QUO VADIS. 123 I lamented, likewise, that I had arrived recently from Naples, so that I knew none of the brethren, nor where they assem- bled for prayer. He marvelled that the brethren in Naples had not given me letters of recommendation to the brethren in Rome, but I explained to him that I had been robbed of my letters on the way. Then he instructed me to come to the river at night and he would introduce me to the brethren, who would conduct me to the houses of prayer and to the elders who rule this Christian community. I was so over- joyed by this information that I gave him the necessary amount for his son’s redemption, feeling confident that the magnanimous Vinitius would return me double the amount.” “Chilo,” interrupted Petronius, “in thy narrative falsehood floats on the surface of truth as oil on water. No doubt thou hast brought important news. I think indeed that a great step has been taken towards finding Lygia; but do not mix falsehood with truth. What is the name of the old man from whom thou didst learn that Christians recognize one another by the sign of a fish?” “Euritius is his name, master, a poor unfortunate old man. He reminds me of Glaucus, whom I defended from mur- derers.” “T believe thou didst make his acquaintance and that thou wilt be able to make use of this acquaintance, but thou didst give him no money. Thou didst not even give him one farthing, dost understand? Thou didst not give him any- thing.” “But I assisted him to lift his pail and I spoke of his son with the greatest sympathy. Yea, master, what can be con- cealed from the insight of Petronius? I did not give him any money, or more correctly, I gave to him in intention only. This would have sufficed him had he been a true philosopher. I gave it to him because I considered the gift necessary and useful; for think how this will win for me the hearts of all the Christians, and how I will secure access to them and win their confidence.” “True,” said Petronius, “but it was to thy interest to do it.” Then Petronius turning to Vinitius, said: “Order that five thousand sesterces be counted out to him, but in intention only.” But Vinitius said: “I will give thee a servant who will carry the necesssary amount. Thou wilt tell Euritius that the servant is thy slave, and thou wilt count out the money 124 QUO VADIS. to the old man in the servant’s presence. But as thou hast brought important news thou shalt have the same amount for thyself. Call this evening for the servant and the money.” “Thou art as liberal as Caesar,” cried Chilo; “permit me, master, to dedicate my work to thee, but permit also that I come this evening for the money only, as Kuritius informed me that the boats had all been unloaded,and that others would not follow from Ostia until a few days have passed. May peace be with you! thus do Christians greet one another. I shall buy a female slave. No, I mean a male slave. Fish are caught with a bait and Christians with fish. Peace be with ye! Peace! Peace!” CHAPTER XV. Petronius to Vinitius: I forward this letter from Antium by a faith- ful slave, expecting that thou wilt return an an- swer without delay, by the bearer, although thy hand is better used to the sword than to the pen. I left thee hopeful and on a clear trail. I trust, therefore, that thou has already satisfied thy swect desires in the arms of Lygia, or that thou wilt satisfy them ere the winter winds from the summits of Soracte shall blow on the Campania. Oh, dear Vinitius! may the golden haired goddess of Cyprus be thy instructor, and mayst thou in turn be the instructor of this Lygian morning star, fleeing before the sun of love. But remember that even the most precious marble is nothing in itself, and that it obtains real value only when the sculptor makes of it a masterpiece. Be thou such a sculptor, oh, my beloved! To love is not enough, one should know how to love aud how to teach love. Even the common people and ani- mals experience sensual delight, but a genuine man differs from them in this, that he transforms love into a noble art, and, conscious of its divine meaning, recreates it in his mind, so that he satisfies not only his heart, but his soul. Often when I think of the vanity, the uncertainty and cares of life, it comes to my mind that perhaps thou hast taken the wiser course, and that not the court of Caesar, but war and love are the only things worth being born and living for. QUO VADITS. 125 Thou hast been fortunate in war, be fortunate also in love; and if thou art curious to know what goes on at the court of Caesar, I will send thee news of everything. We are sojourn- ing here at Antium and taking care of our divine voice, cher- ishing an unchangeable hatred to Rome, and intending to spend the winter at Baiae to appear in public at Naples, whose citizens being of Greek descent, are better critics than the wolf brood on the banks of the Tiber. People will come from Baiae, from Pompeii, from Puteoli, from Cumae, and from Stabiae; there will be no lack of applause or crowds, and this will be an encouragement for the expected expedition to Achaea. As regards the memory of the little Augusta? yes, we are still lamenting her. We are singing hymns of our own com- position, so beautiful, that the sirens, from envy, are hiding in the deepest caves of Amphitrite. The dolphins them- selves would listen to us were it not for the noise of the sea. Our grief is not yet over, hence we shall exhibit it in every form of sculpture known to art, and we are careful that our postures shall be beautiful and that the world shall recognize this beauty. Oh, my friend, let us be mountebanks and com- edians as long as we live. All the Augustales are here, male and female, not includ- ing five hundred she-asses, in whose milk Poppaea bathes, and ten thousand servants. At times it is even cheerful. Calvia Crispinilla is growing old. It is said that she petitioned Poppaea to be permitted to bathe after herself. Lucan slapped Nigidia’s face because he suspected her of relations with a gladiator. Sporus lost his wife to Senecio at dice. Torquatus Sillanus has offered me for Eunice four chestnut horses which will surely win this year at the races. But I declined the offer. I am grateful to thee that thou didst not accept her. As to Torquatus Sillanus, he, poor wretch, does not suspect that he is more of a shadow than a man. His fate is decided. Dost thou know what his crime is? He is the great grandson of the divine Augustus. There is no help for him. Such is our world. As thou knowest, we have been expecting Tiridates. Mean- while, we have received an offensive letter from Vologeses. Having conquered Armenia, he asks that it be left to him for Tiridates; and if it be not left to him, he declares he will hold it in any case. This is mockery! We have decided on war. Corbulo will be given such power as Pompius Magnus re- ee 126 QUO VADIS. ceived in the war against the pirates. There was a moment when Nero hesitated. He evidently fears the glory which Corbulo may win by martial deeds. It was even thought to give the chief command to our Aulus, but Poppaea, to whom Pomponia’s virtue is as salt in the cye, opposed it. Vatinius notified us of a remarkable gladiatoral combat which he is preparing in Beneventum. Behold the height to which cobblers rise in our time, despite the saying, “let the cobbler stick to his last.” Vitelius is the descendant of a cob- bler, but Vatinius is the son of one. Perhaps he himself has stitched with the waxed thread! Alituras, the actor, gave a great representation of Oedipus yesterday. He is a Jew, and I asked him whether Jews and Christians were the same? He answered that the Jewish religion is a very ancient one, but that the Christians are a new sect, risen lately in Judea; that in the time of Tiberius a man was crucified, whose fol- lowers are increasing daily. He has even been deified by them. The Christians, it seems, refuse to worship all other gods, especially ours. I comprehend not the harm which such worship would do them. Tigellinus openly manifests his enmity to me. As yet he has not prevailed against me, though he is my superior in that he cares more for life and is at the same time a greater knave than I, which helps him in Bronzebeard’s eyes. Sooner or later these two will understand each other and then my turn will come. I do not know when this will happen, but *tis only a question of time. Meantime I must enjoy life. Life would not be a bad thing, if it were not for Bronzebeard. Thanks to him, one revolts at times, disgusted against oneself. The struggle for his favor must not be placed upon the same plane as that of rivals in the circus, or in games, where the victory is desired on account of ambition. True, I often explain it to myself in these terms; but at other times it jecemts to me that I am in no way better than Chilo. When thou dost need him no longer, send him to me. I delight in his edifying conversation. Present my greeting to thy divine Christian maiden, or, rather, implore her in my name not to be a fish to thee. Write to me about thy health and the progress of thy love affair, know how to love, teach how to love, and farewell. QUO VADIS. 127 Vinitius to Petronius. Lygia has not yet been found. Were it not for the hope that I shall find her ere long, thou wouldst not receive this answer, for one is not inclined to letter-writing when con- cerned in a matter of life and death. I wished to find out whether Chilo was deceiving me, so on the night that he came to secure the money for Euritius I wrapped myself in a military cloak, and followed him and the servant whom I sent with him. When they reached the appointed place, I watched them from a distance, hiding behind a portico pillar, and I convinced myself that Euritius had not been invented for the occasion. Below, by the river, groups of workmen were unloading stones from a large boat and hoisting them on the bank. I saw Chilo approach and enter into conversa- tion with an old man, who knelt down before him. Others surrounded them, looking on with astonishment. Before my eyes the servant gave the purse to Euritius, who, seizing it, began to pray, raising his hands to the sky. At the old man’s side another was kneeling, evidently his son. Chilo said something that I could not hear, and blessed the kneel- ing figures and the others about them, making in the air a sign in the form of a cross, which evidently they all honor, for all knelt down. I would have approached them, to prom- ise three such purses to him who would deliver Lygia to me, but I feared lest I might spoil Chilo’s work; so, after hesitating for a moment, I departed. This was some twelve days after thy departure. Chilo has visited me frequently since. He tells me that he has gained great influence among the Christians. He explains that if he has not yet found Lygia, ’tis because there are such mul- titudes of Christians in Rome that they are not all acquainted with one another, and cannot know everything that goes on in the community. Besides, the Christians are wary and usually reticent. But he assures me that when he comes in contact with the elders, called presbyters, he will be able to learn everything from them. He has gained access to some of them already, and has begun to question them, though with the utmost circumspection, lest he awaken their suspicions and thus raise difficulties in his own path. It is hard to wait, and I am impatient, but I feel that he is right, and I wait. He has gleaned the further information that the Christians 128 QUO VADIS. assemble for prayer beyond the city gates, in empty houses, and even in sand pits. They pray to Christ, sing hymns, - and hold feasts. They have many such places of assembly. - Chilo thinks that Lygia goes intentionally to different places of worship than those frequented by Pomponia, so that the latter, if questioned by the authorities, would be able to swear that she did not know Lygia’s hiding place. Perhaps the presbyters suggested this precaution. When Chilo discovers these places 1 will go with him, and if the gods permit me a sight of Lygia, by Jupiter! she shall not escape me. My thoughts dwell continually on these places of prayer. Chilo does not wish me to go with him. He is afraid. But I cannot sit idle at home. I should recognize her at once, even in disguise, or veiled. The Christians assemble during the night, but I should recognize her even at night. IL should know her voice and movements under all possible conditions. I will go myself in disguise and scrutinize every person who comes in or goes out. I think of her always, and shall certainly recognize her. Chilo is to come for me to-morrow, and we shall go. I shall take arms with me. Some of my slaves whom 1 sent to the provinces have returned without any news. I am certain now that she is here in the city, and possibly not far away. I myself have looked through many houses under pretext of hiring them. She will be far better off with me, for she is now probably dwelling amid poverty. I shall refuse her nothing. Thou sayest that I have chosen the happier lot. Nay, I have chosen only suf- fering and sorrow. We shall go first to the houses within the city, then to those beyond the gates. Hope is born anew in my breast every morning, otherwise I could not live. Thou sayest that one should know how to love. I could speak of love to Lygia, but now I only yearn; I wait for Chilo, and I cannot stay at home. Farewell. CHAPTER XVI. It was a long time before Chilo showed himself again. Vinitius knew not what to think. Vainly he repeated io himself that a successful search must be slow and careful. Hot-tempered and hot-blooded, he would not listen to the QUO VADIS. 126 voice of reason. To do nothing, to wait and sit with folded hands, was so repugnant that he could not reconcile himself to it. To run in the disguise of a slave through dark streets and alleys, without result, seemed a useless employment of energy. His freedmen, quick, sagacious and experienced, whom he had commanded to make an independent search, proved themselves to be a hundredfold less expert than Chilo. But Vinitius, in addition to his love for Lygia, felt the gam- bler’s craving for victory. ‘This had always been one of his characteristics. From his childhood he had accomplished all his wishes with the passion of one who dves not under- stand the word impossible, or recognize the necessity of sur- render. Military discipline had, tor a period, put bounds upon his own will, but it had awakened in him at the same time the sense that every command given by him to his subordinates must be carried out at any cost. His long sojourn in the East, among a docile people accustomed to slavish obedience, strengthened him in his belief that there was no “nay” to his “I will.” His pride as well as his heart was wounded. ‘The flight of Lygia was unintelligible to him. Ife racked his head in ctiiving to solve the puzzle. He felt that Actea told the truth—that Lygia was not indifferent to him. Yet, if this were so, why did she prefer vagrancy and misery to his love, to his caresses and to his luxurious home? Ile could not answer this question. He only had an undefinable comprehension that between him and Lygia, between her feelings and his, between the world of Lygia and Pomponia and that in which he and Petronius lived, there existed a discrepancy as deep and impassable as an abyss. His one thought was that he must lose Lygia; but at that thought he lost all the remnant of self-control which Petronius sought to bolster up. There were times when he knew not whether he would love or hate Lygia in case he found her; but one thing he knew, was that he must find her. Better that she was swallowed up in the bowels of the earth than that he should surrender her. The strength of his imagination often conjured her up visibly before his eyes. He recalled almost every word that he had ever spoken to her, or heard from her; he felt her near him; felt her lying on his bosom, in his arms; and pride and passion re- awakened in him like flame. He loved her and called upon her, and when he remembered that she loved him in turn, and might yield willingly to his desire, a deep sadness over- 9 30 QUO VADIS. ame him. This sadness flooded his heart like gigantic sea raves. At times his face grew livid from anger. His in- ‘ard passion would have riven his heart had he not found nlace in gloating over the tortures which he would inflict pon Lygia if he found her, in vengeance for the tortures he had inflicted upon him. He desired not merely to possess er, but to possess her as an abject and humiliated slave. Tevertheless, he felt that if the choice were given him to e her slave or never to see her, he would rather be her lave. He revelled in the very thought of the scars that is merciless whip would inflict upon her rosy body, but imultaneously a wild desire arose within him to kiss those gars. He even thought that he would be happy if he could ill her. The torture, torment, excitement and doubt told pon his health, and even upon his manly beauty. He be- ame cruel and unreasonable. Slaves and freedmen ap- roached him trembling. He punished them without mercy nd without pretext, and they grew to hate him secretly. le recognized this, and felt his isolation still more keenly nd wreaked a still bitterer and more unreasonable revenge. Vith Chilo alone he was on friendly terms, for he feared hat Chilo might give up his search. Chilo divined the eason, established greater control over him, and grew more omineering in his demands. At first he had assured Vini- ius that the task would be easily and speedily accomplished. Tow he inwardly exerted himself to invent new difficulties, nd, although holding out the hope of ultimate success, in- isted that time was needed. Finally, after many days had assed, he arrived with so troubled a look that the young aan paled at sight of him. Springing up, he had barely trength to ask him: “¥s she not among the Christians?” “Of course she is,” answered Chilo; “but among them have found a physician, Glaucus.” “What of that? Who is Glaucus?” “Master, hast thou forgotten the old man with whom I raveled from Naples to Rome, in whose defense I lost these wo fingers—a loss that has deprived me of the use of a en? ‘The robbers who carried off his wife and children stab- red him with a knife. I left him in a dying condition at . tavern in Minturnae, and mourned for him a long time. 3ut, alas! I have now ascertained that he is alive, and a aember of the Christian community in Rome.” QUO VADIS. 131 Vinitius, who could not catch the drift of this speech, but only understood that Glaucus in some way was an obstacle in his path, suppressed his rising impatience, and said: “He should be grateful for thy assistance and now aid thee in return.” “Yea, honorable Tribune. But if the gods themselves are not always grateful, what can we expect from men? Yea, he should be grateful. But, alas! he is an old man. His mind is bowed and darkened by age and disappointment. IL learn not only that he is ungrateful, but that he has accused me to his fellow-Christians, saying that I did conspire with the thieves and that I am the cause of all his misfortunes. Such is my reward for my two lost fingers.” “Caitiff!’ cried Vinitius, “I know that he tells the truth.” “Then thou knowest more than he does, for his is only a guess. But that guess would suffice for him to call the Christians to aid him in some cruel re- venge. He would certainly have done this sooner and found many willing Christians, but that happily he knows not my name. In the house of prayer where I ran against him he did not recognize me. But I recognized him at once. My first impulse would have been to throw myself on his neck. Prudence and long habits of self-restraint pre- served me from this. But on leaving the place I made in- quires and learned from his acquaintances that this was a man who had been betrayed by his companion on the way from Naples. And that is how I know what story he gives out.” “What is all this to me? Tell me, what sawest thou in the house of prayer?” “It may be nothing to thee, master, but *tis everything to me. As I wish my wisdom to survive me, rather would I re- nounce the reward thou hast offered, than sacrifice my life for empty gain. A true philosopher can always live without lucre and devote his time to the search for wisdom.” Vinitius bent upon him a menacing look and said in a voice that trembled with wrath: “Who told thee that death was more certain at the hands of Glaucus than of mine? And how knowest thou that I will not bury thee even now like a dog in my garden?” : Chilo caught that glance and trembled. He knew thar one more unguarded remark might destroy him. “I will seek, master, and I will find!” he cried hastily. 32 QUO VADIS. A silence followed. Only the heavy breathing of Vinitius md the far-off songs of slaves at work in the garden could ve heard. Not until Chilo had assured himself that the roung Tribune had grown calmer did he resume the conversa- ion. “Death hath often passed so close as to touch me, but T ooked at it with the coldness of a Socrates. No, master, I ave not said that I would renounce the search for the girl, yut only that this search involves much danger for me. Chere was a time when thou didst doubt the very existence if a certain Euritius, but thou didst ascertain with thine own xyes that the son of my father told thee the truth. Now, hou thinkest that I have conjurea up an imaginary Glaucus. Alas! were he really a fiction and could I walk among the shristians as safely as of yore, I would cheerfully give up the oor old slave whom three days ago I purchased for my as- sistance in my old age and decrepitude. But, master, Glau- sus is alive. Were he to see me, even once, thou wouldst ever see me again. Then who would discover the girl?” He seased, dried his eyes and continued: “So long as Glaucus is ilive, how can I continue my search for her, when I may meet iim at any moment? If I meet him, I am lost, and with me che search is lost.” “What dost thou think of doing? What is thy advice? What is thy decision?” asked Vinitius. “Master, Aristotle teaches that small things must be sacri- iced to great. King Priam always said that old age is a aeavy burden. This burden has oppressed the aged Glaucus for long years, so heavily, indeed, that death would be a bene- ‘action. And, indeed, what is death? According to Seneca, ‘tis but a release.” “Keep thy jesting for Petronius, not for me. Tell me thy cnotentions.” “Tf virtue be a jest, may the gods allow me to remain a jester forever. I wish to put Glaucus out of the way. While ie lives, my life and the search are in the greatest danger.” “Hire men to beat him to death with clubs, I will pay the oil.” “Master, thou wilt only go to needless expense and dis- slose thy secrets in vain. There are as many rascals in Rome is there are grains of sand in the Arena. Thou knowest not what might happen if an honest man needed their base ser- vices. No, worthy Tribune, suppose the watchmen caught QUO VADIS. 153 the murderers in the act? They would undoubtedly reveal the name. of him who had hired them, and great trouble might follow. °*Tis not I that will be denounced, for they know not my name. Thou art wrong in failing to trust me. Thou wouldst defile my sincerity with mire. Two things in- terest me, the wholeness of my skin, and the reward which thou hast promised me.” “How much dost thou need?” “T need a thousand sesterces, for look you, Master, I must find honest rascals, who will not disappear after taking bribes and leave no trace behind them. Good work requires good pay. Something should be added also for me, to wipe away the tears of sorrow that I will shed over Glaucus. The gods be my witness how I love him. Could I get the thousand ses- terces to-day, in two days his soul will be wandering in Hades. Then and there, if souls retain the power of memory and of reason, he will learn how deeply I loved him. I will find the men this very day and tell them that for every day of Glau- cus’s continued existence one hundred sesterces will be sub- tracted from their pay. Then there will be no failure.” Vinitius once more promised him the stipulated sum. He forbade him, however, to speak further of Glaucus. He also questioned him as to what news he brought, where he had been in the interval, what he had seen, and what he had dis- covered. But Chilo had little news to tell. LHe had been in two more places of prayer, he had carefully watched every one, especially the women, but had seen no one who bore any re- semblance to Lygia. The Christians all looked upon him as one of themselves. Ever since the time when he had ran- somed the son of Euritius, they had honored him as one who trod in the ways of Christ. He learned further that their great teacher, Paul, of Tarsus, was now in Rome, imprisoned on charges preferred by the Jews and he had determined to make his acquaintance. He was most overjoyed with the ad- ditional news that the greatest of all the sect, a disciple of Christ, to whom had been confided the administration of the entire Christian world, might arrive in Rome at any moment. All the Christians were anxious to see him and to hear his teachings. There would be great gatherings, in which Chilo himself would be present. He would bring Vinitius there in disguise and they would certainly find Lygia. If Glaucus were out of the way, there would be small peril in all this. The Christians might plan revenge, but they were usually a peaceful people. 134 QUO VADIS. And now Chilo began to explain with some enthusiam that he had never found them to engage in any debauchery, nor to poison wells and fountains, nor to preach enmity to human- ity, nor to worship an ass, nor to feed on the flesh of children. Nay, these things he had never seen. True, among them might be found persons who would do away with Glaucus, bui their teaching, so far as he knew, would not incite them to crime. On the contrary, it commanded forgiveness even to the wronged. Vinitius recalled what Pomponia Graecina had said to him at Actea’s, and listened with delight to the words of Chilo. Though sometimes he felt that he hated Lygia, he was re- lieved to hear that the sect to which she and Pomponia be- longed was neither criminal nor disgusting. An indescriba- ble feeling rose within him that these unknown teachings and the mysterious reverence which they paid to Christ, created a chasm between him and Lygia. So he began to hate those teachings and to fear them. CHAPTER XVII. Chilo did, in fact, have the intention to put Glaucus out of the way, for Glaucus, though old, was by no means de- crepit. There was some slight truth in the story he told to Vinitius. He had once known Glaucus; he had betrayed him and sold him to robbers, he had caused the loss of his family and fortune and had delivered him up to murder. He could easily recall all the facts. He had left him dying, not in a tavern, but on a field near Minturnae. He had not thought at the time that Glaucus would ever recover and come to Rome. On seeing him in the church he had been terribly frightened. His first thought had been to renounce his search for Lygia. But, on the other hand, he feared Vinitius even more. When it came to a choice between his dread of prosecution by Glaucus and of the vengeance of the mighty patrician, who would summon to his aid the still mightier Petronius, he did not long hesitate. He deemed it better to have small enemies than great ones. His cowardly nature revolted from bloodshed, but when he found that bloodshed was necessary he would shift the deed into the hands of hire- QUO VADIS. 135 lings. The important question now was that of choosing the right men for his purpose. He would give them the task of which he had spoken to Vinitius. Passing his nights in tav- erns among vagrants, men without home or honor or faith, he could readily find men willing for any crime. But it was still easier to find among them men who would receive his money, would promise to do the work, and then extort still further money from him on a threat of betraying him into the hands of justice. Moreover, he had long felt a repugnance for these wretched vagrants who lurked in the disreputable houses of the Suburra and the Trans-Tiber. Judging all people by himself, he believed that among Christians, who seemed to him a trifle more trustworthy, he might find willing tools whom he might mislead into the idea that the work was not done merely for money, but with the aim of accomplishing some good. Therefore he spent his evenings with Euritius, whom he knew to be devoted to him body and soul and would do any- thing at his bidding. With his native caution, he decided not to reveal the whole truth to him, which might prove re- pugnant to one so pious and full of devotion to God. He needed men who were ready for anything, but in whom he could confide only so far that they would keep his secret for- ever. Euritius, after the redemption of his son, had rented a | small shop, one among many, which surrounded the Circus Maximus. Here he sold olives, beans, fruit cakes and water sweetened with honey, to the people who flocked to the circus. Chilo found the old man at home, busily arranging his little shop. Greeting him in the name of Christ, he unfolded the reason of his visit, confident that he could depend upon his gratitude for the service he had already extended. He ex- plained that he needed two or three strong, courageous and fearless men to ward off the dangers that threatened not only himself but all Christians. Poor as he was since he had given up his all for Euritius, he still would be able to pay men of this sort for their services, but only on condition that they would trust him and do blindly whatever he commanded. Euritius and his son, Quartus, listened to him as to their bene- factor. They almost dropped upon their knees when they as- sured him that they were ready to fulfill all his wishes, being convinced that so holy a man would not require from them anything inconsistent with the teachings of Christ. Chilo 36 QU0 VADIS. ssured them that they were right. He lifted up his eyes as fin prayer. In truth he was inwardly meditating whether ie would not accept their offer and keep the thousand ses- erces for himself. But after a moment’s thought he decided o refuse. Euritius was an old man, burdened not only by iis age, but by sickness and sorrow. Quartus was but a boy of ixteen. What Chilo needed was strong and sagacious men. (s to the thousand sestertia, he hoped that his elaborate cheme would enable him in any event to save the larger por- ion of it. The men insisted for some time that he should in- orm them of his wishes, but when he had firmly made up his nind to abide by his last decision, they yielded. “Master,” said Quartus, “I know a baker called Demas, who aaploys slaves and hired men. There is one among the hired nen who is more vigorous than two or even four ordinary nortals. I myself have seen him lift stones which no four nen could have lifted.” “Tf he be a good and pious man, willing to sacrifice himself or his brethren, you may introduce him to me.” “He is a Christian,” said Quartus, “for Demas employs ew except Christians. He has both night and day laborers. Chis man is one of the night laborers. If we go there now, ve shall find them at supper, and thou wilt have a chance to alk freely with him. Demas lives near the Emporium.” Chilo joyfully consented. The Emporium lay at the foot of the Aventine Hill, but a short distance from the Circus faximus. It could be reached without climbing the hill, by yassing along the river, through the Aemilian Gate and this vould shorten the journey. “T am old,” said Chilo, when they had arrived under the Jolonnade, “and sometimes my memory betrays me. Yea, vur Lord was betrayed by one of His disciples, but I recail iot his name at this moment.” « -f a o o "1897, Copyright, QUO VADIS. 161 time since he had met her at Aulus’s house, Vinitius felt that though he had now found her, she had not found him. No thought like this had come to him before, and he could not explain it to himself at the time why he had a confused feeling of irreparable loss and misfortune. He became alarmed, and his alarm soon changed into a tempest of wrath towards all Christians, and especially towards the old man. That fisherman, whom at the first glance he had considered an ignorant peasant, now filled him with vague alarm, and appeared to him as some mysterious power who held his fate in his hands. The quarrymen again quietly placed fresh torches on the fire. The wind ceased to mourn in the pines. ‘The flames rose evenly, ascending upwards towards the stars twinkling in a clear sky. The old man, recalling the death of Christ, talked now only of Him. All held their breath, and the deepest silence prevailed, so that almost could be heard the beating of hearts. The man had seen; and he narrated as one in whose mind every moment had been so fixed that were he to close his eyes he would still see. Hetoldthemhow on their return from the cross he had sat with John for two days and two nights in the supper chamber without eating or sleeping, in suffering, mourning, and alarm, their heads bowed in their hands, and thinking that He had died. Oh, how terrible, how awful it was! The third day had dawned, and the morning light illumined the walls, but he and John still were sitting in the chamber, hopeless and comfortless. How desire for sleep tortured them, for they had spent the night preceding the Passion without sleep. They bestirred themselves and began to weep anew. But just as the sun rose Mary Magdalene rushed in, breathless, her hair dishevel- ed, crying, “They have taken away the Lord!” Hearing this they sprang up and ran towards the sepulchre, but John, who was a younger man, ran faster and was the first to arrive. He saw that the place was empty, and dared not enter. Only when there were three at the entrance did he, the one now addressing them, enter; and on the stone he espied a shirt and a winding sheet. But the body they found not. Then a fear fell upon them, for they thought that the priests had removed the body of Christ, and they returned in greater grief than they had come. Other disciples arrived later and joined in the lamentations, so that the Lord of Hosts might hear them in chorus. They wept until the spirit died within iL 162 QUO VADIS. them, for they had hoped that the Master would redeem Is- rael, and it was now the third day since He died; they there- fore did not understand why the Father had forsaken the Son, and they preferred not to look at the daylight, but to die, so heavy was their burden. The remembrance of those awful moments caused two tears to flow from the eyes of the venerable man. These were visible in the light of the fire as they trickled down his gray beard. His bald and aged head trembled and his voice was choked. Vinitius said within himself, “this man speaks the truth and it moves him to tears.” The simple hearted auditors were greatly affected. They had heard more than once of Christ’s Passion, and they knew that joy would follow sorrow; but now that an Apostle, an eye witness, retold the story, they wrung their hands, and sobbed and beat their breasts. But they calmed themselves by degrees, for the desire to hear the continuation of the story prevailed over their grief. The old man closed his eyes as if to look more carefully into his soul for the things that had happened in the past and continued: “While the disciples were lamenting, Mary Magdalene rushed in again, proclaiming that she had seen the Lord. Fail- ing to recognize Him hecause of a great light that surrounded Him she had thought Him to be the gardener. But He said “Mary, and she cried ‘Rabboni’ and fell at His feet. He bade her go to His disciples. Then He vanished. But the dis- ciples would not believe her. When she wept for joy, some taunted her, others thought that sorrow had overthrown her mind, for she said also that she had seen angels at the grave. They ran therefore a second time to the grave and found it empty. Later in the evening came Cleopas with another from Emmaus, saying “Truly the Lord has arisen from the dead.’ And from fear of the Jews they discussed the subject with closed doors. Suddenly He stood among them, though there had been no sound at the door, and when they were afeared He said ‘Peace be with you.’ “And I saw Him as all did see, and He was lika a light, and like the joy in our hearts, for we believed that He had arisen from the dead, and that the seas would dry up and the mountains turn to dust, but His glory would never pass.” * eS ok * * * * x * “After eight days Thomas thrust his finger in His wounds and touched His side. Then he fell at His feet and cried, QUO VADIS. 163 ‘My Lord and my God!’ To whom the Lord answered ‘Be- cause thou hast seen Me, thou hast believed; blessed are they who have not seen and have believed.’ And we heard those words and our eyes looked on Him for Ile was among us.” Vinitius listened and a strange thing happened to him. For the moment he forgot where he was. he feeling of reality, of comparison, of judgement, began to slip away from him. Two impossibilities faced him. He could not believe what he heard, and yet he felt that one must be blind or lost to reason who would admit that that man who said “I have seen” was lying. There was something in his gestures, in his tears, in his whole figure, and in the details of his narrative, that made it impossible to suspect him. Vinitius felt as if in a dream. But round about was the silent crowd. The odor of smoking lanterns came to his nostrils. In the distance the torches blazed and at his side, on the rock, stood this old man on the verge of the grave, his head shaking, who, giving testimony, repeated “I saw.” And he told them everything up to the Ascension into heaven. At moments he paused, for he spoke very minutely, but it was felt that every circumstance had fixed itself in his memory as though engraved on stone. The listeners were seized with ecstasy; they threw back their hoods from their heads that they might hear him better and miss not a single word of those priceless utterances. To them it seemed that some supernatural power had carried them to Galilee, that with the disciples they were walking through the valleys and upon the waters. The cemetery was metamorphosed into the lake of Tiberius. On the bank in the morning mist stood Christ, as He had stood when John, looking up from the boat, said, “It is the Lord;’” and when Peter threw himself into the water and swam so as sooner to fall at the well beloved feet. in the faces of all shone boundless ecstasy, for- getfulness of life, happiness, and immeasurable love. It was evident that during Peter’s long exhortation some of the listeners had visions. When he began to relate how, at the moment of the Ascension, the clouds closed in beneath the Saviour’s feet, how they enveloped Him, how they hid Him from the gaze of the Apostles, all eyes wereraised involuntarily to the sky and a moment as of expectation followed, as if all hoped to behold Him there, or as if they expected that He would descend again from the heavens so that He might see how the venerable Apostle was tending the flock which had been entrusted to him, and bless both the lambs and him. 164 QUO VADIS, And for this people, at that moment, there existed neither Rome, nor the mad Caesar, nor temples of pagan gods. There was only Christ, who filled the land, the sea, the heavens, and the world. From about the houses scattered along the Via Nomentana, the cocks began to crow announcing the midnight hour. Just then Chilo tugged at a corner of Vinitius’s mantle and whis- “pered: : “Master, over there not far from the old man, I see Urban, and by his side is one that looks like a maiden.” Vinitius shook himself as though waking from a dream. He turned in the direction pointed out by the Greek and be- held Lygia. CHAPTER XXI. At that sight the blood coursed madly through the veins of the young patrician. The crowd, the old man, his own bewilderment at the marvelous things he had heard, all these were forgotten. The maiden alone remained. At last he had found her to whom he had devoted long days of agony, anxiety, alarm. Joy seemed to leap upon his heart like a wild beast and clutch it until breath failed him. Ne who had formerly held that it was the mission of the goddess of for- tune to do all his behests, now could hardly believe his eyes or realize his own happiness. Had it not been for this his unruly nature might have hurried him on to some rash deed. But now he paused to make sure that this was not one of those miracles which fille” his brain, that it was not a dream. No! he could doubt no longer. It was Lygia who stood before him, only a few steps away. She stood in the glare of a torch so that her full beauty was revealed to him. Her hood had fallen away from her head, her hair was dishevelled, her lips were slightly parted, her eyes were raised towards the Apostle and her whole attitude was one of rapt attention. She was dressed in the cheap garb of the working classes, but never had she seemed more beautiful to Vinitius. Despite the tumult in his soul, he was struck with the contrast between that noble patrician head and that dark mantle of coarse woolen stuff. Love burned in him like a flame, mingled with wild yearning, with honor, reverence and desire. He felt a QU0 VADIS. 165 delight as of life giving water after prolonged thirst. By the side of the Lygian giant she seemed smaller than ever, almost like a child. He noticed, also, that she had grown thinner. Ifer skin had a wax-like transparency. She affected him like a flower or a phantom. But the more he gazed the greater grew his desire to posssess that maiden so different from all the women of Rome or of the East whom hie had ever seen or possessed. Gladly would he have given them all up for her and given up also Rome and the world. He lost consciousness of his surroundings. But Chilo, fear- ing that he might do something to betray them, brought him back to reality by a tug at his mantle. And now theChristians lifted up their voices in prayer and hymn. “The Lord hath come!’ they thundered out. Then the great Apostle baptized with waters from the fountain all whom the presbyters pre~ sented as prepared for the rite. Vinitius impatiently thought that the night would never end. His aim was to follow Lygia as soon as possible and seize her either on the way or at her home. At last some of the Christians began to leave. Then Chilo whispered, “Master, let us go and wait at the gate, for people look at us askance seeing that we have not removed our hoods.” This was true. While the Apostle was preaching, the con- gregation had cast aside their hoods for convenience of hear- ing. They alone had not followed the general example. Chilo’s advice seemed sound. Standing at the gate they could see all who passed out. The huge form of Ursus would easily be recognisable. “Our plan is to follow them,” said Chilo, “We shall see whither they go. ‘I'o-morrow, master, or rather to-day, thou wilt surround the house with thy slaves and capture her.” “No!” cried Vinitius. “What then is thy will, master?” “We will follow her to the house and seize her at once. Wilt thou undertake this, Croto?” “Yea, master,” replied Croto, “and thou mayest make me thy slave if I break not the back of that bull who watches over her.” But Chilo would fain have dissuaded them. He implored them by all the gods not to act so rashly. Croto had accom- panied them only to assist in their defense if they were recog- nised. He had not been employed to capture the girl. To 166 QUO VADIS. seize her when they were only two against a multitude was to risk almost certain death. Worse still, she might escape from them and hide elsewhere or flee from Rome. What could they do? Why not wait until they were certain of suc- cess? Why expose themselves to destruction and risk a fail- ure of the enterprise? Though it was with a great effort that Vinitius had re- strained himself in the cemetery from seizing Lygia then and there, he saw that the Greek was right. He might have listened to his counsel but for Croto, whose one thought was of the promised reward. : “Master,” he cried, “command silence to that old goat or let me crush his head with my fist. On a time in Buxentum, after a spectacle to which Lucius Saturninus had taken me, seven drunken gladiators fell upon me at a tavern. Not one of them escaped me with a whole rib. I do not advise the seizure of the girl here in the crowd, fcr they might pelt us with stones. Wait till she has reached her house. There I will seize her and bear her whithersoever thou wishest.’* “By Hercules!” cried Vinitius, delighted with the advice, “so be it. ‘To-morrow we may not find her at home. If we alarm-them they may spirit her away.” Chilo groaned. ‘This Lygian is terribly strong,” he urged. “Thou wilt not be asked to hold his hands,” retorted Croto. There was still a long wait before them. Not until cock- crow did they catch sight of Ursus and Lygia coming through the gate. A uumber of people accompanied them. Among these, Chilo thought he recognised the great Apostle. Beside him walked another old man of much smaller stature, two elderly woman and a boy who lighted the way with a lantern. A crowd of about two hundred followed. In this crowd mingled Vintius, Chilo and Croto. “Yea, master,” said Chilo, “thy maiden is strongly guarded. "Tis the great Apostle himself who walks before her. See how they kneel as he passes them.” In fact many did kneel. Vinitius, however, paid no atten- tion to them. Never for a moment did he lose sight of Lygia. His one thought was that of her capture. His mili- tary experience had accustomed him to stratagem. He ar- ranged the whole affair in his mind with military precision. He felt that his plan was an audacious one, but he knew that success often crowned audacity. The way was long. At times his thoughts dwelt upon that ee we QUO VADIS. 167 strange creed which had opened a gulf between him and Lygia. Now he understood the meaning of everything that had happened. He had penetration enough for that. He had never really known Lygia before. He had seen in her a maiden surpassing all others, a maiden who inflamed his pas- sions, he knew now that her religion differed her from others. He recognized the vanity of his former hope that sentiment or passion, or wealth, or luxury, could tempt her. Last of all he understood what Petronius and he had never under- stood, that the new creed engrafted upon the soul something entirely foreign to the world in which he lived, and that even if Lygia loved him she would not for the sake of that love surrender an iota of her faith. If she looked forward to hap- piness, it was a happiness entirely different from that sought by himself, or Petronius, or Caesar’s court, or all Rome. There was no other woman of his acquaintance whom he could net make his mistress; this girl could only be his victim. At this thought rage seized him and a poignant pain because of the very uselessness of that rage. it might be possible to carry off Lygia; nay, he was assured that it was possible, but he was equally assured that in the face of her religion he himself was nothing, his courage was nothing, his power was nothing, all these things were of no avail. ‘The Roman soldier and Tri- bune, who had believed in the might of sword and fist to conquer the world and dominate it forever, realized for the first time in his life that beyond that might there was a greater might. Puzzled he asked himself what it was. He could give no clear answer. Confused pictures chased one another through his brain—the cemetery, the vast con- gregation, the figure of Lygia, listening with all her soul to the words of the old man as he told of the passion, death, and resurrection of the God-man, who had redeemed the world, and promised it everlasting happiness beyond the Styx. His brain was in a whirl. But he was brought back to earth again by the laments of Chilo, bewailing his fate. He had been hired to find Lygia, he had found her at the peril of his life, he had pointed her out. What more could he do? Could they expect him to carry her away, he, an old man who had lost two fingers,an old man devoted to philosophy, science, and virtue? Suppose so mighty a lord as Vinitius were to come to grief in the effort to capture the maiden! The gods are indeed expected to watch over their favorites, but does it not often appear that the gods give themselves up to dice- 168 QUO VADIS. playing, forgetting what goes on in the world? We all know that fortune is blindfolded. It is hard enough for her to see in the daylight, what must it be at night-time? Suppose anything were to happen. Suppose that Liygian bear were to hurl a milestone, a keg of wine, or, worse still, a keg of water, at the noble Vinitius, who could say whether blame instead of reward might not fall to the lot of the unhappy Chilo? A poor philosopher, he had attached himself to the noble Vinitius, as Aristotle to Alexander of Macedonia. If the noble Vinitius would give him merely the purse which he had thrust into his girdle before starting, that might be of some avail in an extremity, to summon aid or to bribe the Christians. Oh! why not listen to the advice of an old man who spoke from the fullness of wisdom and experience? Vinitius at once pulled out the purse and flung it at Chilo. “Take it and hold thy tongue.” The Greek, feeling its weight, grew more cheerful. “My one hope,” he said, “lies in the fact that Hercules and Theseus performed still more difficult tasks. And is not Croto, the friend of my bosom,a Hercules? As to thee, master, thou art more than a demigod—thou art a god. Surely thou wilt not forget in the future thy humble and faithful servant, whose necds must occasionally be provided for. When he is deep in his books, he forgets everything else. An acre or two of garden land, and a small house, with but the tiniest portico for shade in summer would well befit so princely a giver. From this sequestered retreat I will hail thy heroic deeds, and invoke the intercession of Jove, and if need be, raise so great a clamor that half Rome will rush to thy aid. Verily, this is a rough and difficult road! The oil in the lantern is all consumed. If Croto, whose strength is only equalled hy his nobility of character, would carry me to the gate in his arms, he would first be able to satisfy himself that he could carry the maiden easily, and, secondly, by imitating Aeneas, he would win over the favor of the honest gods and so assure the success of the enterprise. “Rather would I carry a sheep dead for a month of tho mange,” was the gladiator’s answer, “hut hand over that purse given by the worthy Tribune, and I will carry thee to the gate.” “Mayest thou forever lose the great toe from thy foot!” replied the Greek. “TTast thou profited nought from the teachings of that good old man who spoke of poverty and QUO VADIS. 169 charity as the greatest of virtues. Did he not expressly com- mand thee to love me? Alas, I sce that I can never make of thee even a poor Christian. Easier would it be for the sun to penetrate.the walls of the Mamertine Prison than for truth to penetrate that hippopotamus skull of thine.” “Fear not!” cried Croto, whose beast-like strength was con- joined with no element of human feeling, “I shall not be a Christian; I care not to lose my bread!” “Yet, but if thou knowest the merest rudiments of phil- osophy thou wouldst know that gold is vanity.” “Away with thy philosophy! I will butt my head into thy stomach, and thou wilt see who wilt come out the victor.” “An ox might have said the same thing to Aristotle.” The world was growing lighter. The gray of the morning defined the outlines of the walls. The trees that skirted the road, the buildings, and the gravestones scattered here and there emerged from the shadows. New signs of life appeared. Dealers in vegetables hurried their heavily laden asses and mules toward the gates, carts full of provisions creaked along the highway. A light mist lay upon the road and beyond it on both sides. ‘This was a portent of fair weather. Through that mist the passers loomed in the distance like phantoms. Vinitius had his eyes fixed upon the slender figure of Lygia, which seemed to grow more luminous as the light increased. “Master,” said Chilo, “far be it from me to foresee where thy bounty will cease. But now that I have been paid thou wilt not suspect me of speaking only for myself. Once more I advise thee to go home, to collect thy slaves and to bring a litter as soon as thou hast discerned the home of the divine Lygia. Hearken not to that mere elephant’s trunk, Croto. He promises to carry off the maiden only to squeeze thy purse as though it were a bag of curds.” “T have a blow of the fist to be struck between the shoul- ders which means that thou shalt die!” cried Croto. “T have a cask of Cephalonian wine, which means that I shall live!’ retorted the Greek. Vinitius made no answer. They had now neared the gate, where a strange scene greeted him. ‘Two soldiers knelt as the Apostle passed, who laid his hands upon their helmets, and then made the sign of the cross over them. The patrician had not dreamed that there were Christians among the sol- diers. Amazed, he thought that just as a great conflagration attacks house after house, so did that religion sweep within 170 QU0 VADIS. it new converts every day, from all classes of minds. How he saw that if Lygia desired to escape from the city she would find guards to assist her. He thanked the gods that she had not essayed this. As they reached vacant spaces outside the walls, the groups of Christians scattered. It was necessary, therefore, to fol- low Lygia from a greater distance, and with more care, lest suspicion be aroused. Chilo, complaining of bruises and pains in his legs, fell further and further to the rear. Vini- tius was content to allow this, as he knew that the pusillani- mous and incompetent Greek would not be needed. He would not even have denied him if he had expressed a wish to quit them. But the philosopher still followed them, urged on probably by curiosity. Occasionally he approached them to repeat his former counsels. He informed them also that he would have taken the Apostle’s companion for Glaucus, but that his diminutive stature had reassured him. It took a long time to reach the Trans-Tiber. The sun had almost risen when at last the group around Jygia dispersed. The Apostle, with an old woman and a boy, went up the river, his companion with Ursus and Lygia, turned into a narrow quarter, and about a hundred yards further on, en- tered a house which contained two shops, one for the sale of olives, the other of poultry. Chilo, lagging about fifty yards behind Vinitius and Croto, stopped, and crouching close to the wall, softly called them to turn back. They did so, wishing to consult as to their next movement. “Chilo,” said Vinitius, “go round and see if this house fronts on some other street.” Chilo forgot his bruises and pains, disappeared around the corner as nimbly as though the wings of Mercury were at- tached to his ankles. In a moment he returned. “No,” said he; “there is but one entrance. But I implore thee,” he added, clasping his hands, “by Jupiter, Apollo, Vesta, Cybele, Iris and Osiris, Mithra and Baal, and all the gods of the East and the West, to drop this plan. Hearken to me— He stopped short. He caught sight of the face of Vinitius, pale with agitation, and the wolfish glitter in his eye. One look was enough to convince him that nothing on earth would move him from his purpose. Croto drew air into his hercu- lean breast, and swayed his formless head from side to side, QUO VADIS. 171 as bears do in confinement. But not an iota of fear was visi- ble in his face. “T will enter first,” he said. “Thou wilt follow me,” commanded Vinitius, imperiously. Then both vanished through the dark entrance. Chilo found refuge behind the corner of the nearest alley, and awaited results. CHAPTER XXII. Not till he had reached the hall did Vinitius understand the whole difficulty of the enterprise. The house was large, con- taining several stories. It was one of the thousands of build- ings erected in Rome for renting to tenants. These houses, for the most part, were so hurriedly and poorly built that rarely a year passed without a number of them falling down upon the heads of their occupants. Veritable beehives they were, high and narrow, full of little rooms and dens over- crowded by the poor. In a city where many streets were without names, these houses had no numbers. The owners entrusted the collection of rents to slaves, who, not being obliged by the city authorities to report the names of the ten- ants, often did not know the names themselves. To find any- body by inquiry in such a house, was often a difficult task, es- pecially when there was no doorkeeper. Vinitius and Croto came to a long passage like a corridor, walled in on four sides, forming a kind of common court for the entire building, with a fountain in the middle, the water of which sprayed into a stone basin embedded in the ground. At all the walls were stone or wooden stairways, leading in- wardly to galleries that gave access to lodgings. On the ground floor were more lodgings, some provided with doors, others separated from the yard only by woolen curtains. These were for the most part torn or patched. It was early dawn. ‘There was no one in the yard. Evi- dently everybedy was asleep in the house, save those who had returned from Ostranium. “What shall we do, master?” asked Croto, halting. “Let us wait here; somebody may appear,” replied Vinitius. *Tt is best that we should not be seen in the yard.” 72 QUO VADIS. None the less he thought that Chilo’s advice was practical. Iad he with him but a score or so of slaves, nothing would ave been easier than to occupy the gate, which apparently vas the only exit, and then search all the lodgings. It was iecessary to find Lygia’s abode at once, otherwise the Chris- ians, who certainly were plentiful in this house, might warn ier that she was being searched for. On this account it was Aangerous to make inquiries of strangers. Vinitius was turn- ng over in his mind whether it would not be better to return or his slaves, when from behind a curtain screening a remote odging, emerged a man carrying a sieve in his hand, who ap- rroached the fountain. The young Tribune at once recognized Ursus. “?Tis the Lygian,” whispered Vinitius. “Shall I break his bones now?” “Wait!” Ursus had not seen them, for they stood in the shadow of he entrance. He quietly set to work washing the vegetables hat filled the sieve. It was evident that he was getting ready . meal after the night spent in the cemetery. When he had inished his preliminaries he took the wet sieve and disap- yeared behind the curtain. Croto and Vinitius ran after him, ‘xpecting that they would gain immediate access to Lygia’s odgings. They marvelled greatly on finding that the curtain livided not lodgings from the courtyard, but another dark rassage, at the end of which they beheld a small garden con- aining a few cypresses and myrtle bushes, and a small house ittached to the back wall of another stone building. Both inderstood that this was a favorable circumstance. The ten- ints might all assemble in the courtyard, but the seclusion of ‘he little house made their project easier. They would over- ome Ursus quickly and would reach the street just as quickly vith the captured Lygia. There their troubles would be over. ?robably no one would molest them. If they were questioned ‘hey would say that a hostage of Caesar’s had escaped. Vini- ‘us would then declare himself to the guards and would call ipon them for help. Ursus was on the point of entering the little house, when che sound of footsteps attracted his attention. He halted, ae seeing two men, put down the sieve and turned towards chem. “Whom seek ye?” he asked. “Thee,” replied Vinitius. 3 a g — => 4 o a 3 Copyright, ° & ° [a4 Oo a o a] Q ° OQ & jem} & o 4 = > 4 m4 < oO WN 2 wn io Pp QUO VADIS. 173 Turning to Croto he said in a low, hurried voice, “Kall!” Croto sprang upon Ursus like a tiger, and before the Lygian could recover himself or recognise his enemies, he had caught him in his arms of steel. Vinitius was so certain of Croto’s superhuman strength that he did not wait to witness the issue of the combat. Passing the two, he sprang to the door of the little house, pushed it open, and found himself in a room lighted only by a fire burn- ing in the hearth. A gleam from this fire fell full upon the face of Lygia. A second person sitting by the fire, was the old man who had accompanied the girl and Ursus on the road from Ostranium. Vinitius rushed in so suddenly, that before Lygia could recognise him, he had seized her around the waist, and lifting her, had gained the door again. The old man attempted to bar the way, but holding the girl with one arm, Vinitius push- ed him aside with the other. The hood fell from his head. At sight of his familiar but now terrible features, the blood froze in Lygia’s veins, and utterance died in her throat. She would have called for help, but could not. Vainly did she attempt to grasp the door frame and to resist. Her fingers slipped along the stone. She would have fainted were it not for a horrible sight that she was compelled to witness, when Vinitius had reached the garden. Ursus was holding in his arms the limp form of a man, whose head was hanging down with hlood flowing from his mouth. Seeing them the giant struck the head once more with his fist, and instantly sprang towards Vinitius like an infuriated animal. “Death!” thought the young Tribune. Then he heard, as in a dream, the cry of Lygia “Thou shalt not kill’? Then he felt that something like a thunderbolt relaxed the arms with which he embraced Lygia; then the earth spun round, and the light of day vanished from his eyes. * * cd * * * * * * Chilo, hiding around the corner, was waiting for what would happen. Curiosity and terror fought for the mastery within him. Should they succeed in kidnapping Lygia, he deemed that he would fare well at'the hands of Vinitius. He had no further fear of Ursus, for he was confident that, Croto would kill him. He calculated that in case a crowd 174 QUO VADIS. should gather in the now empty streets, or if Christians or anybody else, should offer resistance, he would speak to them as one in authority and a representative of Caesar. If neces- sary he would summon the guards to help the young patrician against the mob, and thus win fresh favor. He thought that the plan of Vinitius was unwise; but when he considered Croto’s remarkable strength he owned that it might succeed and thought that if any difficulty arose, the Tribune might carry the girl while Croto would clear the way. Time passed slowly, however, and the silence of the entrance where he watched, affrighted him. “Tf they do not find her hiding place, and make a noise, they will give her warning.” But this thought was not repugnant to him. He saw that in such a case he would again become necessary to Vinitius, and could squeeze out of him a number more of sesterces. “Whatever they do,” said he to himself, “it will enure to my benefit, though no one perceives it. Gods! O gods! gods!— permit me only—” He stopped suddenly. It seemed to him that someone was leaning forward from the entrance. Crouch- ing still closer to the wall, he peered out, holding his breath. He had not been deceived. A head thrust half way out of the entrance, looked hastily around. A moment later it disap- peared. “That is Vinitius or Croto,” thought Chilo, “but if they have seized the girl, why does she not cry out, and why are they gazing out upon the street? They are sure to meet people anyway, for before they reach the Carinae there will be people stirring in the city. What is that! By the immortal gods!” The remnant of his hair rose suddenly on his head. In the doorway stood Ursus, the body of Croto hanging on his arm. Warily glancing around, the giant started to run with the body towards the river. Chilo flattened himself against the wall like a piece of plaster. “TI am gone if he sees me.” Ursus ran quickly past the corner and disappeared against the next house. Chilo, without more ado, his teeth chatter- ing with fright, ran along the cross street with a swiftness that would have done credit to a youth. “Tf when coming back he spies me from afar, he will catch me and kill me” said he to himself. “Save me, Zeus! save me Apollo! save me, Hermes! save me, God of the Christians! J QUO VADIS. 175 will leave Rome and return to Mesembria, but save me from the clutch of that demon!” The Lygian, who had slain Croto, seemed to him a super- human being. Even as he ran he wondered if he were some god who had assumed the appearance of a barbarian. At that moment he believed in all the gods of the world, and in all the myths, at which he usually mocked. It passed through his mind also, that it might have been the God of the Christians who had killed Croto, and his hair rose again at the thought that he was warring against such a power. Not until he had traversed a number of alleys, and seen some workmen approaching him him did he recover. His breath failed him, so he sat down on the steps of a house and wiped his perspiring forehead with a corner of his mantle. “An old man like myself needs rest,” said he. The men turned into a side street. Again he was in soli- tude. The city still slept. In the mornings the stir began in the wealthier sections of the city, where the slaves of rich families were made to rise before daylight. In the sections inhabited by the freed population, supported in idleness at the expense of the state, the inhabitants rose late, especially in winter time. Chilo, after sitting for some time, began to get cold, so he got up, and after feeling for the purse that Vinitius had given him, he walked slowly towards the river. “T may see Croto’s body somewhere,” said he to himself. “Gods! this Lygian, if he be a man, could earn millions of sesterces in one year. If he strangled Croto like a whelp, who could withstand him? He could get his weight in gold for each appearance in the arena. He guards that girl better than Cerberus does Hades. But may Hades swallow him! I want nothing to do with him. He is too muscular. But what shall I do now? A horrible thing has happened. If he has broken the bones of such a man as Croto, surely the soul of Vinitius is weeping over that cursed house, waiting for his burial. By Castor! He is a patrician, a friend of Caesar, a relative of Petronius, a man known throughout Rome, and a military Tribune. His death will not be passed by. Suppose I should go to the pretorian camp, or to the city guards?” He stopped and debated with himself, then after a time he resumed: “Woe is me! who led him to that house if not I? His freed- men and his slaves know that I came to him, and some know 176 QUO VADIS. with what purpose. What will happen to me if they suspect that I purposely pointed out to him the house where he met his death? Although afterwards in court I could prove that I did not desire his death, they will say that I was the cause of it. Besides, he is a patrician, so in any case I will be pun- ished. But if I steal away from Rome and go far away I should expose myself to still greater suspicion” It was a bad case from any point of view. The only thing to be done was to choose the lesser evil. Rome was a big place, but Chilo felt that it might become too small for him. Another man might have gone straight to the prefect of the guards and inform him of what had happened. Suspicion might indeed fall on him, but he could calmly assist the inves- tigation. But Chilo’s whole past was of such a character that a closer acquaintance with the prefect of the city, or with the prefect of the guard, would cause him serious trouble, and confirm also any suspicions that might come into the heads of the officers. On the other hand, to fly would be to convince Petronius that Vinitius had been betrayed and murdered through conspiracy. Petronius was a powerful man who could enlist the police and the whole Empire, and who would undoubt- edly endeavor to find the guilty ones even at the end of the sarth. Still Chilo debated whether he should not go to Pe- tronius and te]l him the whole story. This might be the best plan to pursue. Petronius was an even-tempered man and Chilo could be certain at least that he would hear him out lo the end. Vetronius, who knew the whole affair would be more likely to believe in Chilo’s innocence than the prefects. But before going to him it was necesssary to know for a certainty what had befallen Vinitius, and Chilo did not know that. He had seen the Lygian stealing towards the river with Croto’s body, but that was all. Vinitius might be killed, or he might only have been wounded and taken orisoner. Now the thought struck Chilo that the Christians would not dare to kill so powerful a man, an Augustale, and 1 high military official, for such a deed might cause a general persecution. It was more likely that they had forcibly de- ee him to give Lygia time to hide herself in some other place. This thought filled Chilo with hope. “If that Lygian dragon has not torn him to pieces at the first onset, he is still alive, and if he is alive, he himself will QUO VADIS. 177 testify that I have not betrayed him: and then not only nothing menaces me, but—O Hermes! count on two heifers again—a new field opens before me. I can inform one of the freedmen where to look for his master. It is his business whether he goes to the prefect or not—the point is that I will not go. I may even count on a reward from Petronius. First I search for Lygia, now I shall search for Vinitius, then for Lygia again. But first of all I must find out whether Vinitius is alive or dead.” Here it occurred to him that he could go at night to the miller, Demas, and inquire about Ursus. But he threw aside this idea, he preferred to have nothing to do with Ursus. It was more than probable that if Ursus had not killed Glaucus, he had been warned perhaps by some Christian elder to whom he had confessed his purpose, that it was an evil affair to which a traitor had persuaded him. Besides, the very thought of Ursus sent a shiver through Chilo’s body. He thought that in the evening he would send Kuritius to the house in which the affair had happened, and let him bring back the news. Meantime he needed refreshment, a bath, and rest. The sleepless night, the journey to Ostranium, the flight from the Trans-Tiber, had fatigued him beyond measure. One thing gave him much comfort; he had two purses for himself; one which Vinitius had given to him at home, and another which he had flung to him on the way back from the cemetery. Because of this happy circumstance, and be- cause of the excitement through which he had passed, he resolved to eat heartily and to drink better wine than usual. Whenatlength the hour arrived for opening the wine shops, he ate and drank so much that he forgot about the bath. He desired sleep above all things, so he returned with wavering steps to his abode in the Subarra where a female slave, bought with Vinitius’s money, awaited him. As soon as he had entered the bedroom, dark as a fox’s hole, he threw himself upon the bed and immediately feil asleep. Not till evening did he awake, or rather he was then awakened by the slave woman calling him to get up, for someone was inquiring for him and wished to see him about an urgent matter. The vigilant Chilo was awake in an instant. Hastily throw- ing on his mantle and hood, he commanded his slave to stand aside and peered out cautiously. The sight which greeted him 12 178 QUO VADIS. almost paralyzed him. Before the door of the sleeping room stood the gigantic form of Ursus. He felt his feet and head grow cold as ice. His heart ceased to beat, and shivers passed up his spine. For some time he could not speak, but at length with chattering teeth he said, or rather groaned: “Syra—I am not at home—I know not that—good man—” “T told him thou wert home and asleep, master,”’ answered the girl, “but he bade me to awaken thee.” “Oh gods! I will command that thou—” But Ursus, as if impatient of delay, approached the door of the bedroom and thrust his head inside. “Chilo Chilonides!” he said. “Peace be with thee! peace! peace!” replied Chilo. “Oh best of Christians! yes I am Chilo, but there is some mistake—I know thee not!” “Chilo Chilonides,” repeated Ursus, “thy master, Vinitius, demands that thou go to him with me.” PART II. CHAPTER I. Vinitius was awakened by a poignant pain. Where was he? What was happening? For a moment he could not tell. There was a roaring in his ears, a mist over his eyes. Gradually he came into full possession of his senses, and through that mist he saw three men bending over him. Two of them he recognised. The first was Ursus. The second was the old man whom he had knocked down as he fled with Lygia. The third was a stranger. He had hold of Viniti- us’s left hand, and was feeling the arm from the elbow to the shoulder blade. This caused such exquisite agony that Vinitius, imagining it was some scheme of vengeance that was being wreaked upon him, cried through his set teeth: “Will me!” The men paid no attention to these words. They acted as though they had not heard them, or hearing, deemed them but the meaningless moans of a badly wounded man. Ursus, his face serious, yet stern in its strong barbaric lines, held a bundle of white linen rags torn into long strips. The old man was addressing the stranger. “Glaucus,” he said, “art thou certain that the wound in the head is not mortal?” “T am certain, worthy Crispus,” was the reply. “While serving as a slave in the galleys, and, later, while residing in Naples, i occupied my spare time in nursing the wounded. With my earnings I purchased my own freedom and that of my family. The wound in the head is a slight.one. When this man” (he nodded at Ursus) “snatched the girl from the young man he knocked him against the wall. To save him- self the youngster shielded his head with his arm, which he dislocated and broke.” “Thou hast had many of my brethren under thy care,” replied Crispus, “ard thou art renowned as a skillful physi- cian. That is why [ sent Ursus for thee.” “Ursus? Why, he is the man who on the way hither con- fessed that yesterday he was ready to kill me.” “Before he made that confession to thee, he had already said the same to me. I, who know thee and thy love for Christ, explained to him that not thou, but that stranger who sought to incite him to murder, is the traitor.” 181 182 QUO VADIS. # QUO VADIS. 459 tion, and fear, and agony, in order to call thee to Himself. Thou didst hate Him, but He loved thee. Thou didst deliver ep followers to torture, but He will forgive thee and save thee.” Great sobs shook the breast of the wretched man and rent his soul to its depths. But Paul embraced him, comforted him and led him away as a soldier leads a captive. After a time the Apostle spoke again: “Come with me, I will lead thee to Him, for why else would I come to thee? He commanded me to gather souls in the name of love, and I obey His command. Thou believest thy- self to be damned, but I say to thee: ‘Believe in Him and salvation awaits thee.’ Thou considerest that thou art hated, but I tell thee once more that He loves thee. Look at me! When I possessed Him not, I possessed nothing save themalice which dwelt in my heart, but now His love takes the place of father and mother, of riches and power. In Him alone is refuge. He will consider thy penitence, will have mercy on thy misery, will free thee from fear and raise thee to Him- self.” So speaking, he led him to the fountain, whose silvery spray gleamed in the light of the moon. Silence reigned all about and the gardens were deserted, for slaves had already removed the charred stakes and the bodies of the martyrs. Chilo fell upon his knees with a groan, and, hiding his face in his hands, remained motionless. But Paul raised his face towards the stars and prayed—“Oh, Lord, behold this wretched man, his sorrow, his tears, and his agony! Oh, Lord of mercy, who didst shed Thy blood for our sins, forgive him through Thy passion, Thy death, and Thy resurrection.” Then he was silent, but for a long time he looked upward at the stars and prayed. Meantime at his feet arose a cry like a groan. “Oh, Christ! forgive me!” Then Paul approached the fountain, and, dipping water in his hand, he returned to the kneeling wretch. “Chilo! JI baptize thee, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.” Chilo raised his head, and, crossing his arms, remained motionless. The moon shone full upon his white hairs and upon the equally white face, still, as if dead, or chiselled out of stone. The moments passed. From the great Aviaries in the gardens of Domitian came the crowing of cocks; but 460 QUO VADIS. 7 Chilo remained in his kneeling posture, like a monument. Finally he arose and said to the Apostle: “What shall I do before death?” Paul, roused from his meditation on the boundless power that moved even such minds as that of the Greek, answered: “Have faith, and testify to the truth.” They went out together. At the gates of the garden the Apostle blessed the old man once more, and then they parted. Chilo insisted upon this, because he foresaw that after what had happened both Caesar and Tigellinus would give orders that he should be pursued. His presentiment was fulfilled. When he returned home he found the house surrounded by pretorians, who seized him, and, under the direction of Scevinus, took him to the palace. Caesar had retired, but Tigellinus was waiting. As soon as he saw the wretched Greek, he greeted him with a calm, though ominous face. “Thou art guilty of treason,” said he, “and punishment will not be spared thee. But shouldst thou confess to-morrow in the ante-chamber that thou wert drunk and mad and that the instigators of the conflagration were the Christians, thy pun- ishment will be reduced to flogging and expulsion.” “T cannot do that,” said Chilo. Tigellinus approached him with a slow step and said in a low but terrible voice: “How is that, dog, wert thou not drunk and dost thou not understand what is awaiting thee? Look there,’ and he pointed to a corner of the chamber, where, beside the long wooden bench, stood four Thracian slaves, with cords and pincers in their hands. But Chilo replied: “I cannot.” Rage seized Tigellinus, but he restrained himself. “Hast thou seen,” he asked, “how Christians die? Dost thou wish to die in the same way?” The old man raised his pale face. His lips moved silently for a time; then he said: “I also believe in Christ.” Tigellinus looked at him in surprise. “Dog! art thou mad?” Suddenly the rage which had accumulated in his breast burst forth. Springing at Chilo he caught his beard with both hands, threw him to the floor and trampled on him, repeating, with foam upon his lips: “Thou shalt retract, thou shalt.” , “T cannot,” said the prostrate Chilo. QUO VADIS. 461 “Take him to the rack.” At this order the Thracians seized the old man and laid him on the bench, then, fastening him to it with cords, they began to squeeze his lean legs with pincers. But he kissed their hands with humility, as they bound him to the bench, and then he closed his eyes and seemed dead. He was alive, however, for when Tigellinus bent over him and asked him once more: “Wilt thou retract?” his pale lips moved slightly and he whispered: “I cannot.” Tigellinus ordered the torture to be stopped. Helpless, his face distorted by anger, he strode up and down the room. At last a new thought came to his head. He turned to the Thra- cians and said: “Tear out his tongue!” CHAPTER XX. The drama entitled “Aureolus” was usually performed in theatres or amphitheatres, so arranged that they could open and present, as it were, two separate stages. But after the spectacle in Caesar’s gardens this device was discarded; for in this case it was essential that the greatest number of specta- tors could enjoy the death of a crucified slave, who is de- voured by a bear. In the theatre the role of the bear was played by an actor sewed up in a bearskin, but this time a real bear was to appear upon the scene. This was a new device of Tigellinus. At first Caesar announced that he would not come, but at the urgent request of his favorite he changed his mind. Tigellinus convinced him that after what had hap- pened in the gardens he ought to show himself to the people, and at the same time assured him that the crucified slave would not abuse him, as had Crispus. The people were be- coming sated and tired of bloodshed, consequently a new dis- tribution of lottery tickets and gifts was announced, as. well as a banquet, for the performance was to be given at night in a brilliantly illuminated amphitheatre. By dusk the whole building was packed. The Augustales, with Tigellinus at their head, came in a body, not so much for the sake of the performers as to show their devotion to Caesar and their opinion of Chilo, about whom all Rome was talking. It was rumored that Cacsar, after his return from the gar- 462 @UO VADIS. dens, had fallen into a frenzy and could not sleep, that fears and strange apparitions tormented him, in consequence of which he announced the next morning that he would soon de- part for Achaea. But others denied this and expressed an opinion that Caesar would now be all the more relentless against the Christians. Cowards also were not lacking, who predicted that the accusation which Chilo had flung into Caesar’s face might have the worst possible consequences. Finally there were others, who, through humanity, petitioned Tigellinus to stop further persecution. “Behold what is happening!” said Barcus Soranus; “thou wished to satisfy the anger of the people and to convince them that the guilty were being punished, but the result is just the opposite.” “That is true,” added Antiscius Verus; “all now whisper to one another that the Christians are innocent. If that be clev- erness, then Chilo was right in saying that thy brains would not fill an acorn’s cup.” Tigellinus turned to them and said: “Barcus Soranus, people also whisper that thy daughter Servilia screened her Christian slaves from the justice of Caesar. The same thing they say also of thy wife, Antistius.” “That is false!” exclaimed Barcus, in alarm. “Thy divorced women,” said Antiscius Verus, with equal alarm, “wished to ruin my wife because they are envious of her virtue.” But others talked of Chilo. “What is the matter with him?” said Eprius Marcelus, “he himself delivered the Christians into the hands of Tigellinus; from a beggar he became wealthy; it was possible for him to live out his days in peace, to have a grand funeral and a fine tomb, but now what has happened? All at once he chooses to lose everything and ruin himself; without doubt he must be mad.” a “He is not mad, but he has become a Christian,” said Tigel- inus. “Tmpossible!” said Vitelius. “Have I not said,” remarked Vestinius, “that ye may butcher Christians, but ye cannot war against their Deity! It is no joking matter. See what is taking place. I did not set Rome on fire, but should Caesar permit me I should imme- diately sacrifice a hecatomb to the Christian God. And all should do the same thing, because, I repeat, it is no joking matter. Remember what I have said.” QUO VADIS. = 463 “And I said something else,” said Petronius. “Tigellinus laughed at me when I asserted that the Christians were arm- ing, but now I say more, they are conquering.” “Flow is that; what do you mean?” asked a number of voices. “By Pollux! if such a man as Chilo could not resist them, who can? If you think that after every spectacle the num- bers of Christians do not increase, then you had better become potters or barbers, for you will then find out what people think and what is going on in the city.” “He speaks the truth,” by the holy garment of Diana!” cried Vestinius. But Barcus turned to Petronius, and said: “What is thy conclusion?” “T conclude where thou didst begin, there has been enough of bloodshed. Tigellinus looked at him scornfully, and said: “Nay, a lit- tle more.” “If thy head does not suffice thee, thou hast another on thy cane,” retorted Petronius. The arrival of Caesar interrupted the conversation. Caesar took his place, with Pythagoras next to him. The perform- ance of “Aureolus”’ began immediately, but nobody paid much attention to it, for the minds of the audience were fixed on Chilo. The people, tired of torture and blood, began to hiss and to shout out uncomplimentary remarks and to call for the bear scene, which was the only thing they cared to see. Had it not been for the promised gifts and the hope of seeing Chilo the show would not have held the crowd. At length the looked-for moment came. The circus ser- vants first brought in a wooden cross, low enough to allow the bear, standing on his hind legs, to reach the breast of the vic- tim; then two men dragged in Chilo, for, as the bones in his legs were broken, he could not walk. He was nailed to the cross so quickly that the curious Augustales had not a good look at him, and only after the cross had been fixed in the place prepared for it did all eyes gain a view of the victim. But few could recognize Chilo in this naked old man. After the tortures which Tigellinus had inflicted, not a drop of blood remained in his face, and only on his beard was to be seen a red spot caused by the blood after his tongue had been torn out. It was almost possible to see his bones through the transparent skin. He seemed to have grown much older also. 464 QUO VADIS. His eyes formerly had cast glances filled with malice and ill- will, his face had before reflected alarm and uncertainty, but now, though it had an expression of pain, it was calm and se- rene as the faces of the sleeping or the dead. Perhaps he was comforted by the memory of the crucified thief whom Christ forgave, or perhaps he said in his soul, to the merciful God: “Qh, Lord! I bit like a venomous worm, but all my life Iwas “unfortunate; I was hungry, but people trampled upon me, beat me, and jeered at me. I was poor and very unhappy, and now they put me to torture, and I am hanging on a cross! But Thou, oh, merciful One! will not reject me in the hour of my death.” Evidently peace came to his penitent heart. No one laughed, for in this crucified man there was something pathetic, he seemed so old, so defenceless, so feeble, and his humility invited compassion, so that each one asked himself why men should be crucified and nailed to crosses, who would soon die in any case. The crowd was silent. Among the pre- torians Vestinius, looking to right and left, whispered in a frightened voice, “see how they die!” Others were looking for the bear and wishing a speedy end to the spectacle The bear appearcd at last in the arena, and, swaying his drooping head from side to side, he looked about as if seeking for something. When he saw the cross, with the naked body upon it, he approached and stood on his hind legs. After a moment he dropped down, and, sitting beneath the cross, be- gan to growl as if in his heart there were pity for this poor remnant of a man. The servants of the circus urged on the bear with cries, but the people were silent. Meanwhile Chilo raised his head slowly, and looked at the audience for some time; at last his eyes rested somewhere among the highest tiers of ‘the amphi- theatre; his breast began to ‘heave, and then appeared some- thing which caused wonder and astonishment. His face lighted with a smile, a ray of light seemed to encircle his fore- head, his eyes were raised, and two great tears rolled down his cheeks. Suddenly he expired. And at the same moment a man’s voice rang out from under the awning: “Peace to the martyrs.” In the amphitheatre deep silence reigned. Copyright, 1897, Henry Altemus. “SEE HOW THEY DIE?!’ QUO VADIS. 465 CHAPTER XXI. After the performance in Cacsar’s gardens, the prisons were almost empty. New victims, indeed, suspected of the Orien- tal superstition, were still seized and imprisoned; but fewer and fewer people were captured, so that it was difficult to fill out the programme of the spectacles which were approach- ‘ing. The people had become sated with blood; they evinced great weariness and increasing alarm on account of the un- paralleled conduct of the victims. Fears like those of the su- persitious Vestinius spread among thousands of people. More and more the people talked of the vengefulness of the Chris- tian God. The prison fever, which had spread all over the city, increased the general dread. Funerals were frequent. It was reported that fresh victims were needed to placate the unknown God. In the temples, sacrifices were offered to Jove and Libitina. At last, in spite of all the ciforts of Tigellinus and his followers, the belief spread rapidly that the city had been set on fire at the command of Caesar, and that the Chris- tians were suffering innocently. But for this very reason, Nero and Tigellinus continued the persecution. To placate the people fresh orders were issued to distribute corn, wine, and oil. New rules were pro- claimed to facilitate the rebuilding of houses, and these rules granted special privileges to the owners. New ordinances were given out also as to the width of the streets and the ma- terials to be used for building, so as to avoid fires in the fu- ture. Caesar himself participated in the sessions of the Sen- ate and counselled with the “Fathers” as to the welfare of the people and the city; but no favor was granted to the doomed. The ruler of the world desired to impress upon the people the idea that such cruel punishment could be inflicted only upon the guilty. In the Senate no voice was raised in behalf of the Christians, for no one cared to risk Caesar’s wrath. Besides, those who looked into the future asserted that the very foun- dations of the Roman Empire were threatened by the new creed. The dead and the dying were given to their families, as tne Roman law took no vengeance on the dead. Vinitius con- soled himself to some extent with the thought that should Lygia die, he would bury her in his family vault, and himself rest alongside of her. He lost all hope of saving her from 466 QUO VADIS. death. Half separated from life and absorbed in Christ, he did not now dream of any union save an eternal one. His faith had become so strong that eternity seemed to him some- thing incomparably more real and true than the fleeting ex- istence which he had lived up to that time. Tis heart over- flowed with happiness. While yet alive, he had become trans- formed into an almost immaterial being, which, longing after -a complete deliverance for itself, desired it also for another. He imagined that, when freed from earthly bondage, he and Lygia would go hand in hand to heaven, where Christ would bless them, and allow them to live forever in a light like that of the dawn. He only implored Christ to save Lygia from the torments of the circus, and let her fall asleep in the prison, feeling that he himself would die simultaneously. In view of the enormous amount of blood which had been shed, he could not hope that she alone would be saved. He had heard from Peter and Paul that they, too, must die as martyrs. The sight of Chilo on the cross had convinced him that the death of a martyr could be sweet. Hence, he desired it for both himself and Lygia, as a change from a sad and wretched condition to something better. At times he experienced a foretaste of the after life. The sadness which hung over the souls of both was gradually losing its former burning bitterness, and changing into a peaceful and heavenly submission to the will of God. Vini- tius, who formerly had striven against the current, and had struggled and tortured himself, now let himself drift, be- lieving that the stream would bear him into eternal rest. He divined also that Lygia, as well as himself, was preparing for death; that despite the walls of the prison which separated them, they were going onward together, and this thought brought him much happiness. In fact, they were going onward together, just as if they had exchanged thoughts every day. Lygia had no desire or hope save the hope of an after life. She looked upon death, not only as a deliverance from the terrible walls of the prison, from the hands of Caesar and Tigellinus, but as the wedding day with Vinitius. Besides this certainty, all else lost importance. After death there would begin for her even earthly happiness, so that she awaited it as a bride waits for the wedding day. The great. current of faith which swept thousands of be- lievers away from life and bore them beyond the grave, seized QUO VADIS. 467 Ursus also. He also, for a long time, could not resign him- self to the thought of Lygia’s death. But when every day, through the prison walls, came into the prison, news of what was going on in the amphitheatre and in the gardens, when death seemed the inevitable lot of all Christians, and also their gcod, higher than any earthly idea of happiness, Ursus did not dare to ask Christ to deprive Lygia of such bliss, or delay it for lung years to come. In his simple barbarian soul he thought, also, that the daughter of the Lygian chief would possess more of those heavenly delights than the com- mon crowd to which he himself belonged, and that she would sit nearer to the Lamb than others. Though he had heard that before God all are equal, still a conviction lingered at the bottom of his soul that the daughter of a chief, the chief of all the Lygians, was much better than a slave. He hoped, also, that Christ would allow him to continue to serve her. His dearest wish was to die on the cross like the Lamb, but this he considered bliss so great that he did not dare to pray for it. Although he knew that in Rome even the lowest criminals were crucified, he thought that he would cer- tainly have to perish torn bythe teethand claws of wild beasts. TLis was a source of sorrow to him. From his childhood he had roamed through forests in pursuit of wild animals. While still a youth, thanks to his superhuman strength, he had become famous as a hunter among the Lygians. Hunt- ing was his chief delight, so much so that later, when in tome, he visited the menagerie and the amphitheatres, just to look at beasts, known and unknown to him. The sight of these incited within him a great desire for struggle and killing. So now he feared that when he should meet the beasts in the arena, he would be possessed by thoughts un- becoming a Christian, whose duty was to die piously and patiently. But he committed himself to Christ, and found other thoughts to console him. Hearing that the Lamb had declared ‘war against the powers of hell and evil spirits, which, according to the Christian creed, included the pagan gods, he thought that in this conflict he might be of considerable service to the Lamb, and serve Him all the better, because he believed that his soul must be stronger than that of others. He prayed through entire days, rendered service to the pris- oners, helped the jailers, and consoled his princess, who re- gretted at times that in her short life she had not been able to perform as many good deeds as the famous Tabitha, of 468 QUO VADIS. whom the Apostle Peter had told her. Even the prison guards, who feared the great strength of the giant, since neither chains nor bars could restrain it, took a liking to him for his gentleness. Amazed at his serenity, they asked him the cause. He spoke with such certitude of the life that awaited him after death, that they listened with astonish- ment, seeing for the first time that happiness might come into a dungeon whither the sun’s rays could not penetrate. And when he exhorted them to believe in the Lamb, it struck more than one of them that his own service was the service of a slave, and his life the life of a wretched being, and more than one fell to thinking over his lot, the end of which was death. But death brought new fear and promised nothing, whereas the giant and the maiden, who resembled a flower cast upon the floor of the prison—these two looked upon death with delight, as the gate of happiness. CHAPTER XXII. On a certain evening Scevinus, a Senator, called upon Petronius and conversed with him at length about the griev- ous times in which they lived, and also about Caesar. He spoke so openly that Petronius, though friendly, thought it best to be on his guard. Scevinus complained that the world was becoming mad, and that all must end in some calamity more terrible even than the burning of Rome. He said that even the Augustales were discontented; that Fenius Rufus, second prefect of the pretorians, endured only with the greatest effort the vile rule of Tilleginus; and that Sene- ca’s entire family had been driven to the utmost despair by the conduct of Caesar towards his old master and, towards Lucan. Finally, he began to speak of the dissatisfaction of the people, and even of the pretorians, a considerable part of whom had been won over by Fenius Rufus. “Why dost thou talk in this manner?” asked Petronius. “Out of solicitude for Caesar,” replied Scevinus. “I have a distant relative among the pretorians, whose name is also Scevinus; from him I learn what is going on in the camp. Discontent is growing there also. Caligula was mad, and see what happened—Cassius Chaerea appeared. It was a terrible deed, and no one of us applauded it; but still Chaerea freed the world from a monster.” “Or, in other words,” remarked Petronius, “this is thy meaning: I do not praise Chaerea, but he was an excellent man, and would that the gods gave us more like him.” Scevinus changed the subject, and began of a sudden to praise Piso, glorifying his family, his generosity, his attach- ment to his wife, and finally his intellect, his calmness, and his peculiar gift of winning people. “Caesar is childless,” said he, “and all see his successor in Piso. Doubtless everyone would help Piso to ascend the throne. Fenius Rufus loves him, the family of Annaeus is entirely devoted to him. Plautius Lateranus and Tullius Senecio would go through fire for him. Equally devoted to him are Natalius, and Subrius Flavius, and Sulpicius Asper, and Atranius Quinetianus, and even Vestinius.” “The last will not be of much avail to Piso,” said Petro- nius. “Vestinius is afraid of his own shadow.” “Vestinius believes in dreams and apparitions,” said Sce- vinus, “but he is a valiant man, who, rumor says, will be nominated for Council. If in his heart he is opposed to persecuting the Christians, thou shouldst not blame him for it, for it concerns thee also that this madness should cease.” “Not me, but Vinitius,” seid Petronious. “On his account, I should like to save a certain girl, but I cannot, because I have lost favor with Caesar.” “How is that? Dost thou not see that Caesar wishes to be friendly with thee again? And I will tell thee why. He in- tends returning to Achaea, where he will sing Greek songs of his own composition. He is crazy about the trip, but trembles at the thought of the critical disposition of the Greeks. He imagines that a great triumph awaits him or a great failure. He needs good advice, and he knows that no one can counsel him as well as thou. That is the reason why thou art returning to favor.” “Tucan might take my place.” “Bronzebeard hates Lucan, and destines him for death. He is awaiting a pretext, for he always seeks pretexts. Lucan understands that it is necessary to make haste.” “By Castor!” said Petronius, “this may be. But I have still another way to regain favor.” “What is it?” “To repeat to Bronzebeard what thou hast said to me just now.” 470 “QUO VADIS. “I have said nothing,” said Scevinus, aghast. Petronius laid his hand upon the other’s shoulder. “Thou hast called Caesar a madman, thou hast predicted the succession of Piso, and thou hast said Lucan understands that it is necessary to make haste. What wouldst thou hasten, my dear friend?” Scevinus grew pale, and for a moment the two looked at each other. “Thou wilt not repeat?” “By the hips of Cypris, I will not! Thou knowest me well; no, I will not repeat. I have not heard anything, and I do not wish to hear anything. Dost thou understand? Life is too short to take any trouble. I pray thee only to visit Tigellinus to-day and talk with him as long as thou hast with me, about anything that may please thee.” “What for?” “So that should Tigellinus some day say to me ‘Scevinus was with thee, I might retort, “That same day he was also with thee.’ ” Scevinus, hearing this, broke the ivory cane which he held in his hand, and said, “I will see Tigellinus to-day, and after- wards I will go to Nerva’s banquet. Will not thou be there? But anyway we shall see each other the day after to-morrow in the amphitheatre, where the remainder of the Christians will appear. Farewell.” “The day after to-morrow,” repeated Petronius, when alone. “There is no time to lose. Bronzebeard will need me in Achaea, hence he may perhaps show some regard for my wishes.” And he determined to try the last means. At Nerva’s banquet Caesar himself asked that Petronius should occupy the seat opposite to him, because he wished to ask his advice about Achaea and about what cities he might appear in with the greatest chances of success. He feared most the Athenians. Other Augustales listened to the conversation with attention, so as to retain in their memory the opinions of Petronius, and repeat them afterwards as their own. “It seems to me as if I had not lived until this time,” said Nero, “and that I shall be born only in Greece.” “Thou wilt be born to new fame and immortality,” said Petronius. “T trust that it will be so, and that Apollo will not be jealous. Should I meet with success I will offer to him a hecatomb such as no god has ever had before.” QUO VADIS. 471 Scevinus quoted the lines of Horace: “Sic te diva potens, Cypri, Sic frates Helenae, lucida sidera, Ventorumque regat Pater.” “The vessel is waiting at Naples,” said Caesar. “I should like to set out even to-morrow.” Petronius arose and, looking straight at Nero, said: “Permit me, oh, divine one, first to celebrate a wedding feast, to which I shall invite thee before others.” “A wedding feast? What wedding feast?” asked Nero. “The wedding feast of Vinitius with the daughter of the king of the Lygians, who is thy hostage. Though she is now in prison, as a hostage she is not subject to imprisonment. Thou thyself didst permit Vinitius to marry her; and as thy decrees, like those of Zeus, are unchangeable, thou wilt order her to be set free, and I will give her to the bridegroom.” The cool and calm self-possession with which Petronius spoke impressed Nero, who was always impressed by this method of addressing him. “I know,” he said, with his eyes cast down. “I have thought of her, and of the giant who choked Croto.” “Then both are saved?” asked Petronius quietly. But Tigellinus came to the rescue of his master. “She is in prison at the command of Caesar, and thou thyself hast said, Petronius, that his decrees are unchange- able.” All present, knowing the history of Vinitius and Lygia, understood the situation, and they preserved silence, curious to see how the affair would end. “She is in prison against the will of Caesar, through thy mistake, and through thy ignorance of the law of nations,” replied Petronius, laying stress upon his words. “Thou art a dull man, Tigellinus, but even thou darest not assert that she set Rome on fire, for Caesar would not believe thee.” But Nero had recovered himself. Through his half-closed eyes shone indescribable malice. “Petronius is right,” he said after a while. Tigellinus looked at him with surprise. “Petronius is right,’ repeated Nero. “To-morrow the gates of the prison will be opened for her. As to the wedding feast, we will talk it over the day after to-morrow in the amphitheatre.” 472 QUO VADIS. “T have lost again,” thought Petronius. When he had returned home he was so sure that -Lygia’s fate had been decided, that he sent a trustworthy servant to the amphitheatre to make arrangements for the delivery of her body, which he wished to give to Vinitius. CHAPTER XXIII. During Nero’s reign evening exhibitions in the circus and amphitheatre had been common. Before that time exhibi- tions at night were rare. They were popular among the Augustales, because they were often followed by feasts and revels which lasted until the morning. Though the people had had enough of bloodshed, still when the news was spread that the end of the games was approaching, and that the last of the Christians were to expire during the night per- formance, great crowds filled the amphitheatre. The Au- gustales appeared in a body, for they understood that this would be an unusual performance, and they knew that Caesar had determined to make a tragic show of the agony of Vinitius. Tigellinus had not betrayed what kind of torture was intended for the bride of the young Tribune. But this only increased the general curiosity. Those who had seen Lygia at the house of Plautius extolled her beauty to the skies. Others were mainly concerned with the question as to whether they would really see her in the arena that night, because many of those who had heard the reply of Caesar to Petronius gave it a double meaning. Some believed that Nero would deliver, or perhaps had already delivered, the maiden to Vinitius. They remembered that she was a hostage, and hence could worship any god she pleased, and that the law of nations did not allow her to be punished. Uncertainty, expectation, and curiosity possessed all the spectators. Caesar arrived earlier than usual. Immediately on his coming conjectures were whispered about that some- thing unusual would happen, for beside Tigellinus and Vatin- ius, Caesar had with Cassius, a centurion of enormous size and strength, whom Caesar took with him only when he needed a defender—for instance, on his night escapades to the Suburra. Here he enjoyed an amusement called “Sag- QUO VADIS. 473 gatio,” which consisted in tossing on a soldier’s cloak every maiden he met on his way. It was noted, also, that precau- tions had been taken in the amphitheatre itself. The pre- torian guards were increased, and they.were commanded, not by a centurion, but by the Tribune Subrius Flavius, known for his blind attachment to Nero. It was generally under- stood that Caesar wished in any case to secure himself against an outburst of despair from Vinitius, and this added to the interest. All eyes were turned upon the seat occupied by the unfor- tunate lover. He was very pale, and his forehead was covered with perspiration. He was uncertain as to Lygia’s fate, as were the other spectators, but also he was alarmed to the very depths of his soul. Petronius, ignorant himself of what would happen, said nothing to him, except that when he had returned from Nerva’s banquet he had asked Vinitius whether he was prepared for everything, and then whether he would be present at the performance. To both questions Vinitius answered yes, but a shudder passed through him, because he surmised that Petronius did not ask these questions without reason. For some time he had been only half alive; he had been sunk in death, and had consented to Lygia’s death, since for both it was to be a deliverance and a marriage. But now he realized that it is one thing to meditate over the last moment as if it were to be a calm falling into sleep, and another thing to behold the agonies of a person dearer than life to him. AJl his former anguish came back again. The despair which he had repressed began again to cry in his soul; he felt again the old desire to save Lygia at any price. In the morning he had tried to get into the prison to be sure that she was there. But the pretorian guards watched all the entrances, and the orders were so strict that even the soldiers whom Vinitius knew personally could not be moved by entreaties or bribes. It seemed to Vinitius that uncertainty would kill him before the spectacle came off. Tn his heart there still lingered a faint hope that Lygia was not in the amphitheatre, and that his fears were groundless. At times he clung to this hope with all his strength. He thought to himself that Christ might have taken her to Him- self from the prison. He only knew that he could not bear to witness her agony in the circus. Formerly he had sub- mitted in everything to the Divine Will, but now, when re- pulsed from the doors of the prison, he returned to his seat 474 QUO VADIS. in the amphitheatre. From the curious eyes directed towards him he inferred that the most terrible conjectures might prove true, and in his soul he implored help with a passion that resembled a menace. “Thou canst!” he repeated, clench- ing his fist convulsively, “Thou canst!’ He had not realized heretofore that this moment would be so terrible. Now his mind was clouded, and he felt that if he should see Lygia tortured, his love for God would change into hatred and his faith into despair. He was terror-stricken at the same time, for he feared to offend Christ, whom he was imploring for mercy and miracles. He asked no longer for her life, but only that she might die before being led into the arena. With unspeakable anguish he repeated in his heart: “Refuse me not this one request, and I will love Thee more than I have hitherto loved Thee.” Then his thoughts raged like waves tossed about by a hurricane. A desire for blood and vengeance arose in him. He was seized with a mad desire to swoop down upon Caesar and choke him in the presence of all the spectators, but he felt this desire was an offense against Christ and His command. At times flashes of hope whirled through his brain that an Almighty and Merciful Hand would turn away all that his soul feared. But these hopes vanished before his overwhelming despair, as he thought that He who could destroy that circus with a word and save Lygia, sad abandoned her, though she trusted in Him and loved Him with all her pure heart. And he thought, moreover, that she was lying in the dark dungeon, weak, defenseless, deserted, dependent upon the mercy of the brutal guards, drawing perhaps her last breath, while he had to wait in that horrible amphitheatre, not knowing what tor- ture was destined for her, or what the next moment might bring forth. Finally, like a man who, falling down a preci- pice, grasps at everything that grows on the edge of it, sa did he grasp frantically at the thought that faith alone could save her. This means alone was left. Peter had said that faith could move the earth to its very foundations. There- fore, he concentrated his thoughts, hushed his misgivings, and compressed his whole being into the sentence, “I believe,” and awaited a miracle. As a cord stretched too tightly may break, so he was broken by the strain. A deathly pallor covered his face. His body relaxed. Then he thought that his prayer had been heard, and that he was dying. He thought that Lygia must QUO VADIS. 475 have died, and that Christ was taking them both to Himself. The arena, the white robes of the countless spectators, the lights of innumerable lamps and torches, all vanished from his sight. His weakness did not last long. In a moment he awoke, or, rather, was awakened by a stamping of the expectant mul- titude. “Thou art ill,” said Petronius; “give orders that thou be taken home.” Regardless of what Caesar would say, he rose to support Vinitius and leave with him. His heart was full of compassion. Moreover, he was vexed beyond endurance by the fact that Caesar was gazing through the emerald at Vinitius, and studying his agony with satisfaction, perhaps in order to describe it afterwards in pathetic verses and gain the applause of an audience. But Vinitius shook his head. He might die in the amphi- theatre, but he could not leave it. Moreover, the spectacle might begin at any moment. Indeed, at that instant the prefect of the city waved a red handkerchief. Upon: this signal the hinges of the doors opposite Caesar’s box creaked, and out of the dark chasm came Ursus, into the brightly illuminated arena. The giant blinked, evidently dazzled by the brightness of the arena; then he moved towards the centre, looking about as if to see what he had to encounter. All the Augustales and most of the spectators knew that this was the man who had strangled Croto; hence at his appearance murmurs arose from all the benches. There was no lack of gladiators in Rome larger in stature than ordinary men, but Roman eyes had never seen the like of Ursus. Cassius, who stood by Caesar, appeared puny in comparison. Senators, vestals, Caesar, the Augustales, and the people gazed with the delight of experts at his powerful limbs, like the trunks of trees; at his breast, which seemed like two joined shields, and at his herculean arms. The murmurs grew louder at every mo- ment. For the multitudes there could not be any greater pleasure than to see those muscles play in the exertion of struggle. The murmurs changed to shouts and to eager ques- tionings: “Where live the tribes who produce such giants?” Ursus stood there in the middle of the amphitheatre naked, resembling a stone Colossus rather than a man. Calm, col- lected, yet at the same time with the melancholy of a bar- barian. Looking about the empty arena, he fixed his blue 476 QUO VADIS. eyes in wonderment, now on the spectators, now on Caesar, now on the grating of the dungeons, whence he expected his executioners. At the moment when he stepped into the arena his simple heart was throbbing with the hope that death on the cross was awaiting him. But when he saw neither a cross nor a pit, he thought that he did not deserve such favor, and that she would have to perish in some other way, most probably from wild beasts. He was unarmed, and had resolved to die as became a follower of the Lamb, peacefully and pa- tiently. Meanwhile, he wished to pray to the Saviour. So, kneeling in the arena, he joined his hands and raised his eyes to the stars, which twinkled above the lofty opening on the arena. This attitude displeased the crowds. They had had enough of those Christians who died like sheep; they understood that should the giant refuse to defend himself, the spectacle would be a failure. Here and there hisses arose. Some cried for the scourgers, whose office it was to chastise combatants who refused to fight. But silence soon followed, for no one knew what awaited the giant, nor whether he would not be ready to fight when he looked death in the face. Indeed, they had not long to wait. Suddenly a deafening noise of trumpets arose, and at this signal a grating opened opposite the imperial box, and into the arena rushed, amid the shouts of the people, an enormous German bull, bearing on his horns the naked body of a woman. “Liygia! Lygia!” cried Vinitius. Then he seized his hair near the temples, writhed like a man wounded by a spear, and in a hoarse voice cried out: “I believe! I believe! Grant a miracle, O Christ!” He was not aware that Petronius, at that moment, covered his head with a toga. He thought that death or agony had covered his eyes. He did not look. He did not see. A feeling of awful emptiness seized him. No thought remained in his head, only his lips repeated, as if in delirium: “I be- lieve! I believe!” Suddenly the amphitheatre was hushed. The Augustales rose in their seats as one man, for something uncommon had happened in the arena. The Lygian, humble and ready to die, seeing his princess on the horns of the wild beast, sprang up as if burned by fire, and bending forward, rushed towards the frenzied animal. QU0 VADIS. 477 Cries of astonishment were heard on all sides. The Lygian ee in a twinkling the raging bull, and seized him by the orns. “Look!” cried Petronius, unveiling the head of Vinitius. Vinitius raised his face, pale as a sheet, and he looked at the arena with a glassy, vacant stare. Everyone held his breath. In the amphitheatre a fly might have been heard. People could not believe their own eyes. Never before was seen anything like this. The Lygian held the wild beast by the horns. His feet were buried in the sand to his ankles. His back was bent like a bow. His head was hidden between his shoulders. The muscles swelled on his arms so that the skin seemed to crack from the pressure, but he stopped the bull on the spot. The man and the brute remained so motionless that the spec- tators seemed to look at a picture representing a deed of Hercules or Theseus, or a group cut in stone. But in that apparent repose was evident the terrible exertion of two strug- gling forces. The bull as well as the man sank his feet deep into the sand, and his dark, shaggy body was so curved that it resembled a huge ball. Which would first be exhausted? Which first wauld yield? This was the question which at the moment was of greater importance to the spectators than their own fate, than that of Rome and its rule over the world. The Lygian, in their eyes, was a demi-god, worthy of admira- tion and statues. Caesar himself arose. He and Tigellinus, hearing of the strength of this man, had purposely prepared the spectacle, and laughing to each other, had said: “Tet the slayer of Croto vanquish the bull chosen by us.” But now they looked with amazement at the picture before them, hardly believing that it could be real. There were some of the spectators who had raised their arms and remained in this attitude. Sweat poured down the faces of others, as if they themselves were struggling with the animal. In the circus nothing was heard save the hiss of the flames in the lamps and the crackle of the torches. Words died in the throats of the spectators, but their hearts beat against their breasts as if to split them. It seemed to all that the struggle was lasting for ages. But the man and the brute continued motionless in their terrible struggle. They seemed rooted in the earth. Suddenly there reverberated through the arena a muffled roar, and then a shout arose from the spectators and then 478 Quo VADIS. again silence fell. The people saw as in a dream that the monstrous head of the bull was twisting around in the iron grasp of the barbarian. The Lygian’s face, neck and arms grew purple, his back curved still more. He was evidently rallying the rest of his superhuman strength. But he could not stand the strain much longer. Gradually the groans of the bull grew hoarser and duller and more painful as they mingled with the whistling breath of the giant. The head of the brute was twisted more and more. A long, foaming tongue protruded from its muzzle. Next instant the crack of breaking bones reached the ears of the nearest spectators; then the beast sunk to the earth with a broken neck. In a twinkling the giant slipped the cords from the horns of the bull, and, panting, raised the maiden in his arms. His face had paled, his hair was matted with sweat, his arms and shoulders were wet as though with water. For a moment he stood as if he were scarce conscious, then he lifted his eyes and gazed around the amphitheatre. The immense audience had gone wild. The walls of the building trembled from the shouts of tens of thousands of spectators. Since the beginning of the games no such en- thusiasm had ever been known. Those who occupied the higher tiers left them and crowded down the aisles between the seats, in order to get a better view of the athlete. From all sides came cries for mercy, passionate and insistent, which soon turned into one fierce roar. The giant was now the darling of the people, who, above all things, worshipped physi- cal strength; for the time he was the greatest personage in Rome. The Lygian understood that the mob were demanding his pardon and freedom, but his thoughts were not upon himself alone. For a time he looked about him, then he approached the imperial seat, and, holding the maiden on his outstretched arms, he raised his eyes in supplication, as if to say: “Take pity on her! Save her! For her sake this has been done.” The spectators understood his desire. The sight of the fainting girl, a mere child in comparison with the gigantic Lygian, had its effect upon the crowd and the soldiers and Senators. That slender figure, white as if cut from alabaster, her swooning condition, the awful peril from which the giant had rescued her, and finally her beauty, moved every heart. Some thought that the Lygian was a father begging mercy for QUO VADIS. 479 his child. Pity burst forth like a flame. Enough of blood and death and tortures! On every side arose entreaties for mercy from voices broken by sobs. Ursus, still carrying the girl in his arms, moved around the arena, and, by eye and gesture, begged mercy for the girl. Then Vinitius started up from his seat, leaped over the bar- rier which separated the front seats from the arena, and, run- ning to Lygia, threw his toga over her naked body. Then he rent the tunic on his breast and exposed the scars of wounds received in the Armenian war, and stretched his arms out to- wards the people. The enthusiasm of the crowd now passed all bounds. The mob stamped and howled. Voices demanding mercy grew terrible in their insistence. People not only took the part of the athlete, but rose in defence of the maiden and the 3oldier. With flashing eyes and clenched fists thousands of spectators turned towards Caesar. He, however, demurred and hesitated. He cherished no hatred for Vinitius nor did he particularly desire the death of Lygia, yet it would have given him pleasure to see the body of the girl torn by the horns of the bull, or the tusks of beasts. His cruelty and his degenerate disposition found a strange delight in such sights. And now the people wished to deprive him of one. This thought angered him. Wrath burned red on his bloated face. His self-love made it hard for him to yield to the will of the people. On the other hand his cowardice prevented him from opposing it. He looked around among the Augustales to see if he could discover thumbs pointing downwards to give the verdict of death. But Petronius held up his hand and looked almost defiantly into Caesar’s face. Vestinius, superstitious yet en- thusiastic, who feared ghosts but not the living, also gave the sign for merey. So did Scevinus, the Senator, and Nerva, and Tullius Senecio, and the famous warrior, Ostorius Scap- ula, and Antistius, and Piso Vetus, and Crispinus, and Minu- cius Thermus, and Pontius Telesinus, and, most important of all, Thrasea, who was adored by the people. In view of this opposition, Caesar dropped the emerald. from his eye with an expression of scornful indignation. Ti- gellinus, who wished to spite Petronius, bent over him and said: “Yield not, oh, divine one! we have the pretorians at our command.” Nero turned to the place where Subrius Flavius stood, in 480 QUO VADIS. command over the pretorians. He saw something which he little expected. The face of the old Tribune, hitherto always devoted to him, was now set and stern, although bathed with tears, and his hand was raised in sign of mercy. Meantime the masses had become enraged. Clouds of dust rose from beneath the stamping feet, and filled the amphi- theatre. Mingled with the shouts were heard cries: ‘“Ahe- nobarbus! matricide! incendiary!” Nero became frightened. In the circus the people were masters of the situation. Former Caesars, and especially Ca- ligula, had ventured sometimes to withstand the popular will, and the consequent disturbances sometimes ended in blood- shed. Nero’s position was different. Not only as a come- dian and a singer did he need the favor of the people, but also as a bulwark against the Senate and the patricians. Since the burning of Rome he had striven to win it by all means, and so had turned the anger of the people against the Christians. He understood that further opposition would be perilous. A riot begun in the circus might spread over the city, and pro- duce incalculable results. Once more he looked at Subrius Flavius, at Scevinus, the centurion, a kinsman of the Senator, at the soldiers; and, seeing everywhere knitted brows, and stern eyes fixed upon him, he gave the sign for mercy. Then thunders of applause burst out and echoed from the highest to the lowestseats. The people were now assured of the safety of the condemned ones. From this moment they passed under their protection. Caesar himself would not dare to molest them further. CHAPTER XXIV. Bithynian slaves bore Lygia to the house of Petronius. Vi- nitius and Ursus accompanied her. They made haste in order to place her as soon as possible under the care of the Greek physician. They spoke no word, for, after the experiences of the day, speech scemed to have forsaken them. Vinitius was scarcely conscious. Again and again he repeated to him- self that Lygia was saved, that neither imprisonment nor death in the circus menaced her longer, that their misfortunes were ended once and forever, and that now he was carrying ‘HaOW GNV FYOW GANUNL LSVAG AHL AO AVAH AHL “snuaz,y Aruoy '26g1 ‘3y3]aAdoD QUO VADIS. 481 her home and would never part from her again. From time to time he bent over the open litter to look at the face of his beloved, which in the moonlight appeared still as if in sleep, and he repeated to himself: “This is she! Christ saved her!” He remembered also that, while he and Ursus were carrying her from the Spoliarium, an unknown physician had looked at her and assured him that the girl was living and would surely recover. This thought filled him with such delight that he grew weak and was obliged to lean upon the arm of Ursus. Ursus looked up at the star-studded sky and offered up a silent prayer. Quickly they moved along the streets in which newly built houses gleamed white in the moonlight. The streets were de- serted save where here and there they came upon groups of ivy covered people, who sang and danced before porticos to the accompaniment of flutes, taking advantage of the marvel- lous night and the holiday season, unbroken since the begin- ning of the games. Only when they were near the house did Ursus cease praying, and, in a low voice, as if he feared to waken Lygia, said: “Oh, master, the Saviour preserved her from death. When I saw her on the horns of the bull I heard a voice in my soul erying, ‘Defend her, and this I knew was the voice of the Lamb. The prison had robbed me of my strength, but in that moment He restored it to me, and He inspired the cruel multitude to speak in her behalf. Praise be to Him.” And Vinitius answered: “Glorified be His name!” He could speak no further, for tears choked him. He felt an uncontrollable desire to fall down upon the earth and thank the Saviour for the miracle and mercy He had vouch- safed. They had now reached the house. The servants, warned by a slave who had been sent ahead, swarmed out to meet them. Paul of Tarsus had converted the greater part of these people. They knew of the misfortunes of Vinitius. Great was their joy at sight of the victims rescued from the power of Nero. It increased still more when Theocles, the physi- cian, after examining Lygia, pronounced that she had suffered no scrious injury, and that when the exhaustion produced by the prison fever had passed, she would surely recover. During the night she became conscious. Awakening in the gorgeous chamber lighted with Corinthian lamps, and fra- grant with the scent of flowers, she knew not where she was 31 nor how she had come hither. She recalled the moment when she had been tied to the horns of the chained bull and beholding above her the face of Vinitius, lighted by the pale glow of the lamp, she imagined that she was no more upon earth. Her thoughts were confused. She thought that she had been halted somewhere on the way to Heaven on account of exhaustion and weakness. Not feeling any pain, she smiled at Vinitius and attempted to ask him where they were, but could speak only in a low whisper, so that Vinitius could scarcely catch his name. He knelt beside her, and, laying his hand softly upon her forehead, said: “Christ saved thee and returned thee to me!” Her lips murmured some unintelligible words, her bosom heaved, and she fell into a deep sleep, which the physician was expecting; and from which he said she would awaken to life and health. Vinitius remained on his knees by her, sunk in prayer. His soul was transported with so mighty a love, that he for- got himself entirely. Theocles now returned to the chamber, and from behind the lace curtain the golden head of Eunice appeared frequently. At last the cranes outside in the gar- den announced the dawn of day, but Vinitius still knelt, em- bracing in imagination the feet of Christ, and not knowing or hearing what was going on about him. His heart, full of thanksgiving, hurned like a sacrificial Hame, and he was cai- ried away by his ecstasy to the very portals of Heaven. CHAPTER XXV. After Lygia was liberated, Petronius, lest he should offend Caesar, went to the Palatine with other Augustales. He wished to hear what they were saying, and especially to find out whether Tigellinus was plotting anew to destroy Lygia. Both she and Ursus were now under the protection of the people. No one could molest them without creating a tu- mult. But Petronius, knowing how the powerful prefect of the pretorians hated hii, thought it likely that Tigellinus, powerless to injure him directly, would try to revenge himself upon his nephew. Nero was in high dudgeon because the show had ended in QUO VADIS. 483 a way quite different from his wishes. At first he would not look at Petronius, but the latter, preserving a calm temper, approached him with all the freedom of the Arbiter of Ele- gance, and said: “Do you know, oh, divine one, what has struck me? Compose a song about the Virgin who, at the command of the ruler of the world, was rescued from the horns of a wild bull, and returned to her lover. The Greeks are impressionable, and 1 am certain that such a song will de- light them.” Despite his vexation, Nero was pleased with the suggestion, and for two reasons: In the first place, it was a good subject for a song, and, secondly, he could glorify himself as the mag- nanimous ruler of the world. He regarded Petronius kindly, and said: “Yes, mayhap thou art right, but would it hecome me ta chant my own praises?” “Thou needest not mention thyself hy name. In Rome, everybody will know who is the hero of the song, and from Rome the news will spread all over the world.” “Art thou sure this would meet with approbation in Achaea?” By Pollux! it will,” cried Petronius. And he took his de- parture, feeling certain that Nero, who loved to weave reality into his literary inventions, would not spoil the theme. Thus the hands of Tigellinus would be tied. But this did not alter his plans of sending Vinitius away from Rome as soon as Ly- gia’s health would allow it. When he saw him the next day he said: “Take her to Sicily. As things have turned out, you need fear Caesar no longer, but TigeHinus is perfectly capable of poisoning you both, if not for his hatred for you, out of hatred to me.” Vinitius smiled and replied: “She was on the horns of a wild bull, and yet Christ saved her.” “Sacrifice then a hecatomb to Him,” said Petronius, impa- tiently, “but do not expect Him to save her a second time. Dost thou remember how Aeolus received Ulysses when he asked him a second time for favoring winds? Gods do not like to repeat themselves.” “As soon as she is restored to health,” said Vinitius, “I will take her to Pomponia Graecina.” “And thou wilt do well, since Pomponia is lying ill. I heard it from Antistius, a cousin of Aulus. In the mean- time, occurrences will take place here to make people forget 484 QUO VADIS. you, and in our day, those who are forgotten are the happiest. May fortune be thy sun in winter, thy shade in summer.” He left Vinitius to his happiness while he went himself to inquire of Theocles concerning the life and health of Lygia. She was out of danger. Exhausted as she was after the prison fever, foul air and discomfort would have ended her life. Now she was surrounded by the tenderest care, and not merely by plenty but by luxury. By order of Theocles, she was borne daily into the gardens of the villa. She would spend hours in these gardens. Vinitius would adorn her litter with anemones and irises to remind her of the hall of the Auli. Hand clasped in hand, they frequently spoke of the past, as they sat under the spreading trees. Lygia told Vinitius that Christ had allowed him trials and terrors for the express pur- pose of changing his soul and raising it to Himself. And Vinitius acknowledged that this was true. He felt, indeed, that there was little in him of the former patrician who had known no law save his own will. There was no bitterness in these memories, however. It seemed to both of them that whole years had rolled over their heads and that the terrible past Jay very far behind. A feel- ing of calmness possessed them which they had never experi- enced before. A new and )lissful life lay before them. In Rome Caesar might rage and fill the world with terror, but they felt that they were under the protection of a far mightier power. They need have no further fear of C'acsar’s tage or mal- ice, as if he had ceased to be master of their lives. Onee, about sunset, they heard the roar of lions and cther wild beasts; formerly these sounds would have frightened Vinitius as a bad omen, but now the lovers regardcd each other with a smile and raised their eyes toward the glow of the sunset. At times Lygia, still very weak and unable to walk unaided, fell asleep in the quict of the garden. Vinitius watched over her, and, regarding her sleeping face, the thought would come to him that this was not the same Jiygia whom he had met at the home of Aulus. Indeed, the prison and the sick- ness it had brought had impaired somewhat her beauty. When he saw her at the house of Aulus, and when he came to take her from Miriam’s house, she was as beautiful as a statue, but now her face was almost transparent, her arms were thin, her body emaciated by illness, her lips pale, and even her eyes seemed less blue than formerly. The golden haired Funice, who brought lowers for her and costly rugs to cover her feet, seemed like a Cyprian deity in comparison. Pe- tronius, secing that she had lost so many of her charms, shrugged his shoulders and thought that this shadow from Elysian fields was not worth the trouble, and pain, and tor- ture which was sapping the life of Vinitius, but Vinitius, now in love with her spirit, loved her all the more, and when he watched her as she slept, he felt as if he were watching over the whold world. CHPTER XXVI. The news of Lygia’s miraculous rescuc spread rapidly among those Christians who had escaped destruction. Be- lievers came to look upon her to whom the grace of Christ had been so manifestly shown. First came Nazarius and Mi- riam, at whose house Peter, the Apostle, was concealed, and after them came others. All of them, together with Vinitius, Lygia, and the Christian slaves of Petronius, listened with rapt attention to the narrative of Ursus, as he related how a voice had spoken to his soul and commanded him to struggle with the wild bull. All departed much consoled, and, believ- ing that Christ would not allow his followers to be extermin- ated in this vale of tears before His coming to the day of judg- ment, and this hope supported them, for the persecution was not yet over. Whomever public opinion denounced as a Chris- tion, him the officers of the city seized and dragged to prison. The number of victims, indeed, were growing fewer, because the majority of the faithful had been seized and tortured to death. The Christians who were left had either deserted Rome to wait in distant provinces until the storm was over, or were concealing themselves in hiding places, not daring to assemble for common prayers except in sand pits in the out- skirts of the city. But the persecution was still going on, however, for, though the games were over, the newly arrested were preserved for future series of games or were convicted without delay. Though the Roman people did not believe that the Christians had caused the conflagration,still they were denounced as the foes of mankind and the state and the edict against them remained in full force. For a long time the Apostle Peter did not venture into the 486 QUO VADIS. house of Petronius, but at last one evening, Nazarius an- nounced his arrival. Lygia, who was now able to walk un- aided, and Vinitius hurried to meet him and embraced his feet. He greeted them with all the greater emotion because so few sheep remained in the fold over which Christ had placed him, and the fate of whom filled his great heart with anguish. Consequently, when Vinitius said to him: “Oh, Lord, through your intercession, the Saviour gave her back to me,” he replied: “Ie gave her back to you, because of your faith and that not all the lips which praised Him might be silent.”” Evidently he was thinking then of the thousands of his children who had been torn to pieces by wild beasts, of those crosses which had filled the arena, and those fiery pil- lars in the gardens of the “Beast,” for he spoke with great emotion. Vinitius and Lygia noticed also that his hair had grown quite white, that his body was bent, and that his face gave as much evidence of sadness and suffering as if he had passed through all the pains and tortures which had been en- dured by the victims of Nero’s rage and malice. But they both understood as Christ had delivered Himself to torture and death nobody could avoid such suffering. Nev- ertheless the sight of the Apostle, bent by age and pain, pierced them to the heart. So Vinitius, who intended in a few days to take Lygia to Naples to meet Pomponia there and go on to Sicily, entreated him to leave Rome with them. But the Apostle laid his hand on the head of Vinitius, and re- plied: “I hear in my soul the words of the Lord, which he spoke to me on Lake Tiberius: ‘When thou wert young, thou didst gird thyself and go whither thou wouldst; but when thou shalt le old, thou shalt stretch forth thy hand and another shall gird thee and carry thee whither thou wouldst not;’ it becomes me, therefore, to follow my flock.” And when they were silenced by the words, although they did not understand them, he added: “My toil is nearly over; I shall find refuge and rest only in the House of the Lord.” And then he turned towards them and said: “Remember me, because I have loved you as the father loves his children, and whatever ye do in life, do it for the glory of God.” With these words he raised his aged hands and blessed them; they nestled up to him, feeling that this perhaps would be the last blessing they should receive from him. QUO VADIS. 487 But it was destined that they should see him once again. A few days later Petronius brought dreadful news from the Palatine. It had been discovered that one of Caesar’s freed- men was a Christian, and on him were found letters of the Apostles Peter and Paul, and also letters of James, John, and Judas. Peter’s presence in Rome had been known to Tigelli- nus, but he thought that the Apostle had perished with the thousands of other believers. Now it was evident that the two leaders of the new faith were still alive and that they were in Rome. It was determined that they must be found and captured at any price, because it was believed that only with their deaths could the hated sect be eradicated. Petronius was told by Vestinius that Caesar himself had issued an order to cast Peter and Paul in the Mamertine prison within three days, and that whole detachments of the pretorians had been sent to search all the houses in the Trans-Tiber. As soon as he heard this Vinitius resolved to warn the Apostle. In the evening, he and Ursus donned Gallic man- tles, whose hoods covered their faces, and made their way to the house of Miriam, situated in the outskirts of the city at the foot of the Janiculum Hill. On the way they saw houses surrounded by soldiers, led by unknown persons. This divis- ion of the city was alarmed. Here and there groups of cur- ious people had assembled. Centurions went about examin- ing the prisoners and endeavoring to gain information about Simon Peter and Paul of Tarsus. Ursus and Vinitius, however, outstripped the soldiers and arrived safely at the house of Miriam, where they found Peter surrounded by a handful of the faithful. Timothy, Paul’s as- sistant, and Linus were at the side of the Apostle. On hearing of the approaching danger, Nazarius led all by a hidden passage to the garden gate, and then on to some de- serted quarries a few hundred yards from the Janiculum Gate. Ursus was obliged to carry Linus, whose bones, broken by tortures, had not yet knit together. But when they had entered a quarry they felt safe, and by the light of a torch which Nazarius lit, they held a consultation, carried on in low vorces, as to the best means of saving the life of the Apostle who was so dear to them. “Master,” said Vinitius to Peter, “let Nazarius at the break of day guide thee to the Alban Hills. We will find thee there and take thee to Antium, where a vessel waits to transport us both to Naples and Sicily. It will be a blessed day and hour when thou shalt enter my house and bless my home.” 488 QU00 VADIS. All the others approved this plan and urged the Apostle to accept, saying: “Take refuge, oh, Shepherd. Stay not in Rome. Preserve the living truth, so that it may not perish with us and with thee. Hear us, who implore thee as our father.” “Do this in the name of Christ,” cried others, clinging ta the Apostle’s garments. But Peter answered: “My children, who knows when the Lord will mark the end of His life.” But he did not say that he would not leave Rome, and he was in doubt as to what course to pursue, because, for some time, uncertainty and fear had stolen into his soul. His flock was dispersed, his work had come to naught. The Church which, before the burning of the city, had flourished like a great tree, had been annihilated by the power of the “Beast.” There was nothing left but tears and the remembrances of agonies and death. The sowing had yielded an abundant crop, but Satan had trampled it down. Legions of angels had not come to rescue the perishing, and Nero sat upon the throne of the world, terrible and more powerful than ever, Lord of the sea and of the land. Many a time had the fisherman blessed the Lord, stretched his hands towards Heaven in his loneli- ness and asked: “Oh, Lord, what shall I do. How can J, a powerless old man, wage war against the invincible power of evil, which Thou hast allowed to rule and to whom Thou hast granted victory.” And from the depths of his anguish he cried out in his soul: “The sheep which Thou didst command me to feed are no more. Thy Church is no more. In Thy capital are only sounds of mourning. What are now Thy commands? Am I to stay here, or shall I lead forth what remains of Thy flock to glorify Thy name in concealment somewhere beyond the sea?” He hesitated. He believed that the living truth could not perish, that it must prevail. But at times he thought that the hour had not yet come, that it would come only when the Lord should descend upon earth on the Day of Judgment, in glory and power greater a hundredfold than those of Nero. Often it seemed to him that if he left Rome the faithful would folow him, and then he would lead them far away to the shady groves of Galilee, to the yuiet waters of the Lake of Tiberius, to throw in their lot with shepherds as peaceful as doves or as the sheep that grazed there in the valleys. And the heart of the fisherman was filled with a yearning for peace QUO VADIS. 489 and rest, and for the lake and for Galilee. His eyes fre- quently moistened with tears. But the moment he made up his mind a sudden fear and anxiety seized him. Tow was he to leave that city whose sa- cred soil had drunk the blood of martyrs and where so many dying lips had given witness to the truth? Should he alone shrink from his fate? And what answer could he make to the words of the Lord: “These have suffered death for the faith, but thou didst flee.” He passed nights and days in anxiety and distress. Others whom lions had torn to pieces, who had expired on crosses, who had been burned in the gardens of Caesar, now slept in peace after their moments of torture. But he could not sleep and suffered greater tortures than any of those invented by persecutors for victims. Often the dawn whitened the roofs of houses while he was still crying from the depths of his suffering heart: “Oh, Lord, why didst Thou order me to come here and found Thy capital in the den of the “Beast?” During all the thirty-four years since the death of his Mas- ter, he had known no rest. With staff in hand he had trav- elled over the wide world to spread the good tidings. His strength had been exhausted by his travels and toils, and at last, when in this city, the capitol of all the world, he had es- tablished the work of his Master, the fiery breath of malice had blighted it and he saw that the struggle must be underta- ken anew. And what a struggle! On one side Caesar, the Sen- ate, the people, the legions, encircling the world with. chains of iron, lands innumerable, such power as was never seen be- fore; and on the other side, he, so weakened with age and toil, that his trembling hand could scarcely carry his staff. Often he told himself that he was no match for the great Caesar and that Christ alone had the power to uphold him. These thoughts passed through his careworn head as he lis- tened to the prayers of the last handful of his faithful fol- lowers, who, surrounding him in an ever narrowing circle, be- sought him with imploring voices: “Tlide thyself, oh, Rabbi, and deliver us from the power of the Beast.” Jinus himself, at last bowed before him his tor- tured head: “Master,” he said, “the Saviour commanded thee to feed his sheep, but they are here no longer, or they will disappear on the morrow. Go, therefore, where thou mayst still find them. The word of God still lives in Jerusalem, in Antioch, 490 QUO VADIS. in Ephesus, and in other cities. What wilt thou gain by stay- ing in Rome? If thou shouldst fall, thou wilt only magnify the triumph of the Beast. The Lord has not foretold the limit of John’s life. Paul is a Roman citizen and cannot be condemned without a trial. But if the powers of hell prevail against thee, oh, teacher, those who have lost heart already will ask: “Who is greater than Nero?” Thou art the rock upon which the Church of the Lord is founded. Let us die, but suffer not anti-Christ to prevail over the vicegerent of God, and return not here till the Lord has crushed him who shed the blood of innocents.” 5 “Regard our tears,” repeated all who were present. ‘ears coursed down the cheeks of Peter also. After a time he rose, and, stretching his hands over the kneeling people, said: “May the name of the Lord be glorified and may His will be done!” CHAPTER XXVII. At dawn of the following day two dark figures were stealing along the Appian Way towards the valley of the Campania. One of them was Nazarius, the other the Apostle, Peter, who was leaving Rome and his distracted brethren. In the East the sky was already assuming a slight tinge of green, which changed gradually into a saffron color. From out the shadows appeared trees with silvery foliage, white marble villas and the arches of aqueducts stretching along the plain toward the city. The green tinge of the sky was becom- ing shot with gold. Soon the rays began to redden and il- luminate the Alban Hills, which appeared as if wrapped in a violet frame. The dawn was mirrored in drops of dew trembling on the leaves of trees. The haze grew thinner, and unveiled a wider view of the plain, the houses that dotted it, the cemeteries, towns, and groups of trees, among which gleamed the white columns of temples. The road was deserted. The peasants who brought vege- tables te the city had evidently not yet harnessed their horses. The blocks of stone with which the road was paved as far as the mountains echoed from the wooden-soled shoes of the wayfarers. QUO VADIS. 491 The sun rose over the hills, and then a wonderful vision burst upon the Apostle. It seemed to him that the golden disc, instead of rising higher and higher in the sky, came glid- ing down from the heights and moved along the road. Then Peter stopped and said: “Dost thou see the brightness approaching us?” “T see nothing,” replied Nazarius. Peter, shading his eyes with his hands, continued: “Some figure is approaching us in the gleam of the sun.” But no sound of footsteps reached their ears. Nazarius saw only that the trees in the distance were trembling as if shaken, and that the light was spreading more widely over the valley. With amazement in his eyes he looked at the Apostle. “Rabbi, what troubles thee!” he cried in alarm. Peter dropped his staff; his eyes looked straight ahead, his mouth was open, his face expressed wonder, delight, ecstasy. Suddenly he fell upon his knees, with his hands stretched out, and cried: “Oh, Christ! Oh, Christ!” and he pressed his face towards the earth, as though kissing some one’s feet. There was a long silence. Then the voice of the old man was heard, choked with tears: “Quo Vadis, Domine?” (Whither goest Thou, oh, Lord?) Nazarius did not catch the answer, but to Peter’s ears came a sad, sweet voice, which said: “As thou art deserting my people, I go to Rome to be crucified, for the second time.” The Apostle lay on the ground, his face in the dust, motion- less and silent. It scemed to Nazarius that he had fainted, or perhaps even that he was dead. But suddenly he arose, and, without a word, turned back towards the City of the Seven Wills. The lad, seeing this, repeated like an echo: “Quo Vadis, Domine?” “To Rome,” replied the Apostle. And he returned. Paul, John, Linus and all the faithful greeted him with consternation in their eyes. Their alarm was all the greater because, at daybreak, just after Peter’s departure, the pretor- ians had surrounded the house of Miriam and had searched it for the Apostle. But to all questions he simply answered inacalm voice: “I have seen the Lord.” And in the even- ing he went to the Ostian Cemetery to teach and baptise those who wished to bathe in the Water of Life, and afterwards he went there daily, followed by increasing crowds. It seemed 492 QUO VADIS. that from every tear of the martyrs there were born new be- lievers, and that every groan in the arena reverberated in thousands of breasts. Caesar wallowed in blood; Rome and the whole Pagan world went mad. But those who were weary of crimes and bloodshed, those who were downtrodden, those whose lives were a succession of misery and oppression, all the weary and the sorrowful, and the heavy-laden, came to listen to the wonderful tidings of that God, who, moved by pity for men, had given Himself to be crucified in order to atone for their transgressions. : When they found a God they could love, they found that which the world at that time could not give, the happiness born of love. Peter understood that Caesar, with all his le- gions, could not crush the living truth, that it could not be quenched in tears or blood, and that now was the commence- ment of its victory. He understood now why the Lord had turned him back from the threshold of his journey. The city of pride, of crime, of debauchery, and of power, was now becoming His City, and the double capital, whence would is- sue the rule of the flesh and of the spirit. CHAPTER XXVIII. At last the hour of both the Apostles had come. But, as if to complete his work, it was given to the fisherman of the Lord to rescue two souls in his very prison. T'wo soldiers, Pro- cessus and Martinianus, his guards in the Mamertine prison, were baptized by him. But the hour of torture was at hand. Nero was not in Rome at the time. Sentence was passed by Helius and Polythetes, two freedmen, to whom Caesar had intrusted the government of Rome in his absence. Peter was first flogged, according to law, and the next day was taken outside of the city walls, toward the Vatican Hill, where he was to suffer death on the cross. The soldiers were surprised at the numbers that gathered before the prison. They could not understand how the death of a common man and an alien could excite such interest. They knew not that this retinue was composed not of the merely curious, but of believers, who wished to accompany the great Apostle to the place of his execution. At last, in the afternoon, the gates of the QUO VADIS. 493 prison were thrown open and Peter appeared in the midst of a detachment of pretorians. The sun was already slant- ing towards Ostia; the day was clear and calm. Peter was not required to carry his cross. lt was supposed that on account of his years he would not be able to support its weight. He walked slowly. The faithful could catch an unobstructed view of him. When his white head showed itself amid the iron helmets of the soldiers, a wail arose in the throng, but ceased almosi. immediately, because the face of the old man was so serene and shone with such joy that it seemed to all that this was not a victim going to his execution, but a conqueror cele- brating his triumph. And such was really the case. The fisherman, usually huinble and bent, now walked erect, towering above the sol- ciers, and full of majesty. Never before had there been such dignity in his bearing. He looked like a monarch attended by the people and soldiers. From all sides came voices: “Behold Peter going to the Lord!” All seemed to forget that he was going to torture and to death. The crowd marched in a solemn concourse, feeling that since the death on Golgotha, nothing so great had taken place, and that as the first sacrifice had redeemed the world, this was to redeem the city. People stopped on the road and gazed with wonder at the old man, but the faithful, placing hands upon one another’s shoulders, said: “Behold how a just man dics, one whe knew the Lord and proclaimed love to the world!” And those who had halted to gaze upon the Apostle, walked away, saying: “Verily, this is not a criminal!” Along the way, the noises and the cries of the streets were hushed. he procession wound along by newly-built houses and the white columns of temples, above which hung the deep blue sky, calm and serene. They moved in silence, save when, at times, the arms of the soldiers clashed, or the murmur of prayers arose. Peter caught the low-breathed prayers, and his face shone with an increasing delight, for his glance could hardly compass those thousands of believers. Tle felt that his work was crownéd with triumph, and now he knew that the truth which he proclaimed all his life would overwhelm everything like a sea, and that nothing could restrain the waves. Thinking thus, he lifted up his eyes and said: “O Lord, Thou didst command me to conquer this city, 494 QUO VADIS. which rules over the world, and J have subdued it. Thou didst command me to found thy capitol] in it, and I have done so. Now, O Lord, it is thy citadel, and I am going to Thee, because my work is done.” As he passed by the temples he cried: “Ye will become the temples of Christ!” Gazing at the crowds of people that swarmed before his eyes, he said: “Your children will be the servants of Christ.” And he went on with the consciousness of victory achieved, aware of his services, aware of his power, calm, and great. The soldiers took him across the Pons Triumphalis, or Bridge of Triumph, as if unwittingly testify- ing to his triumph, and led him on toward the Naumachia and the Circus. The faithful from the Trans-Tiber joined the procession, and swelled it to such an extent that the centurion who commanded the pretorians, appreciating now that he was escorting a high priest, surrounded by his cor- gregation, grew alarmed because of the smallness of his force. But no cry of indignation or anger arose from the crowd. All felt the solemnity of the moment, and the faces of the believers were grave and expectant. Some of the faithful, recalling that at the death of the Saviour the earth opened in terror, and the dead rose from their graves, thought that now some portents would appear, so that the death of the Apostle would not be forgotten in the ages to come. Others said to themselves, “Perhaps the Lord will choose the hour of Peter’s death to descend upon the earth, as He promised, and judge the world.” With this idea they commended themselves to the mercy of the Saviour. All about there was a great calm. The hills appeared as if resting and basking in the sun. At length the procession stopped between the Circus and the Vatican Hill. Some of the soldiers began now to dig a hole, others placed the cross and the hammers and nails upon the earth, waiting till all the preparations should be finished. The crowd, hushed and solemn, fell upon their knees. The Apostle, his head glorified by the sun, turned for the last time toward the city. Far away below them the gleaming Tiber could be seen; beyond was the Campus Martius. Higher up was the mausoleum of Augustus; below were the great baths which Nero had just begun to build; still lower was Pompey’s Thea- tre, and beyond them, partly visible and partly screened by other buildings, were the Septa Julia, a multitude of porticos, temples, columns, towering edifices. Finally, far away in the QUO VADIS. 495 distance, were the hills studded with houses whose summits faded away in the blue haze, the abodes of crime but of power, of madness but of order, all these forming the city which had become the throne of the world, its oppressor and yet its law and its peace, omnipotent, invincible, eternal. Peter, surrounded by the soldiers, gazed over this scene as a ruler and king looks upon his inheritance, and thus he addressed it: “Thou art redeemed and mine.” And no one there present, not merely among the soldiers digging the pit in which the cross was to be planted, but even among the faithful, could divine that the real ruler of that city stood amongst them; that Caesars would pass away, that waves of barbarians would come and go, that ages would vanish, but that this old man would hold there uninterrupted sway. The sun slanted still more towards Ostia, and had become large and red. The whole western sky was bathed with the glow of the dying day. Then the soldiers approached Peter to strip him of his garments. But he, who had been bowed in prayer, now suddenly stood erect and stretched forth his right hand. The executioners paused as if in awe at his attitude. The faithful scarce dared to breathe, thinking that he desired to speak. Unbroken silence prevailed. But he, standing on the height, with his right hand extended, made the sign of the cross, blessing in the hour of his death— “Urbi et Orbi!” (The City and the World). On that same beautiful evening another detachment of soldiers led along the Ostian Way Paul of Tarsus, towards a place called Aquae Salviae. He also was followed by a band of the faithful whom he had converted. Whenever he recog- nized a friend, he stopped and talked with him, for the guard treated him with greater consideration because he was a Roman citizen. Beyond the gate known as Tergemina he met Plautilla, the daughter of the prefect, Flavius Sabinus, and noticing that her youthful face was wet with tears, he said: “Plautilla, daughter of eternal salvation, depart in peace. Only lend me your veil to cover my eyes as I go to the Lord.” Taking the veil, he went on with a face as full of joy as that of a laborer returning home after a day’s toil. His thoughts, like those of Peter, were calm and serene as that evening sky. He gazed in thoughtful contemplation over the plain which extended before him, and upon the Alban Hills, bathed in light. He recalled his journey, his pains and labors, the trials he had overcome, the churches he had 496 QUO VADIS. founded, in all lands and beyond all scas, and he felt that he had earned his rest, that his work was completed. Le knew that the seed he had sown would not be scattered by the breath of malice. He was departing from this life with the certainty that the conflict against the world which the spreading of the truth had occasioned would result in victory. A peace beyond understanding filled his soul. The road to the place of execution was long, and the shades of evening were falling. The mountains became purple and their bases were gradually veiled in shadows. Flocks were wending their homeward way. Ilere and there groups of slaves walked along with their implements upon their shoul- ders. Children at play before the houses on the road looked with wonder at the soldicrs. On that evening the trans- parent, balmy air seemed filled with peace and harmony, which, as it were, rose from the earth and floated heaven- ward. And Paul felt this, and his heart was filled with joy at the thought that to this harmony of the earth he had added a note which did not exist before, but without which the whole earth was like sounding brass and tinkling cymbals. And he recalled how he had taught the people charity; how he had admonished them that though they should give all they possessed to the poor, and though they learned all languages, all mysteries, and all sciences, they would be nothing without love, which is kind, patient, which does not return evil, does not erave lionor, suffers all things, be- lieves all things, hopes all things, and endures to the end. His whole life had been spent in teaching people this truth. And now he said within himself: “What power can equal it? What power can conquer it? Can Caesar over- come it, though he had twice as many legions, twice as many cities, the seas and the lands and nations?” And like a conqueror he went to his reward. The escort finally left the main road and turned eastward along the narrow path leading to the Aquae Salviae. The red sun was lying low on the heather. The centurion halted the soldiers at the fountain, for the time had come. Paul threw Plautilla’s veil over his arm, intending to cover his eyes with it, and for the last time he raised those eyes, filled with indescribable peace, towards the eternal light of the evening, and prayed. Yes, the hour had come; but now he saw be- fore him a long road of light leading to heaven, and to himself QUO VADIS, DOMINE? QUO VADIS. 497 he repeated the same words which formerly he had written in the consciousness of duty done and the end at hand: “IT have fought the good fight; I have finished my course; I have kept the faith; henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness.” CHAPTER XXIX. In Rome madness still reigned, so that the erstwhile con- queror of the world began, through lack of a ruler, to crumble to pieces. Even before the last of the Apostles had died there came the conspiracy of Piso, and after that, such a merciless decapitation of the most prominent heads in Rome that even those who looked upon Nero as a god began to see in him a god of destruction. The city was in mourning. Terror reigned in its houses and in all hearts. Yet the por- ticos were decorated with ivy and flowers, because it was not permitted to bewail the dead. When the people awoke in the morning they asked themselves whose turn it would be to-day. The retinue of ghosts following Caesar increased every day. Piso paid with his head for his conspiracy. And a like fate befell Seneca and Lucan, and Fenius Rufus, and Plautius Lapranus, and Flavius Scevinus, and Afranius Quinetianus, and the dissolute companions of Caesar’s followers, Tullius Senecio, and Proculus, and Araricus and Cugurinus, and Gratus and Silanus, and Proximus, and Sabrius Flavius, once entirely devoted to Nero, and Sulpicius Asper. Some per- ished on account of their villany, some by fear, some on ac- count of their opulence, some because of their courage. Caesar, dismayed by the number of the conspirators, placed soldiers upon the walls, and held the city as if in a state of siege; sending out every day centurions bearing decrees of death to suspected houses. The condemned humbly bowed to the decrees of Caesar, sending him letters full of flattery and of thanks for his sentences, and willing to him a part of their fortunes, in order to save the rest for their children. It seemed at last that Caesar were overstepping all bounds, in order to discover to what depths the people had degen- erated and how long they would suffer the bloody rule. After 32 498 QUO VADIS. the conspirators were put to death, their relatives, friends, and even their acquaintances, suffered the same fate. Dwell- ers in the magnificent palaces erected after the conflagration, when they went out on the street, were sure to see a whole succession of funerals. Pompeius, Cornelius, Martialis, Flavius Nepos and Statius Domitius perished because accused of being wanting in love for Caesar; Novius Priscus, because ire was a friend of Seneca; Rufius Crispus was deprived of the right of fire and water, because he had formerly been the husband of Poppaea. The great Thrasea fell a victim to his virtues. Many were put to death on account of their noble origin. Even Poppaea fell a victim to the momentary rage of Caesar. The Senate cringed before the terrible potentate, erected temples in his honor, placed wreaths upon his statues, and established priests for him as if he were a god. Senators, in fear and trembling, ascended the Palatine to magnify the song of the “Perio Donices,” and to go mad with him amid orgies of naked bodies, wine and flowers. But meantime, from beneath, in the soil wet with the blood and tears of martyrs, grew silently, but ever stronger and stronger, the seed that Peter had sown. CHAPTER XXX. Vinitius to Petronius: We are kept well informed, dear friend, of what is going on in Rome, and what we do not know we learn from your letters. When a stone is cast in the water, the waves go farther and farther in a widening circle, and so a wave of madness has reached us from the Palatine. Carinas, sent by Caesar into Greece, stopped here on his way. On his march he despoiled cities and temples to replete the treasury. From the sweat and tears of the people will be built the “Golden House” in Rome. It is possible that the world heretofore has not beheld such a house, but it has not be- held such injustice either. You know Carinas; Chilo was of his ilk until he redeemed his life with death; but his men have not come yet to towns lying in our immediate neighborhood, for the reason, perhaps, that they have neither QUO VADIS. 499 temples nor treasures. You ask us whether we are safe. I will say only that we are forgotten, and let that suffice for an answer. At the moment that I am writing these words, 1 see our peaceful bay and Ursus in a boat upon it, letting a net down into the quiet waters. My wife sits beside me, spinning wool. Our servants sing in the shadow of the almond trees. What peace and quiet, oh, my dear friend! What a contrast to our old-time alarm and suffering! ’Tis not the fates, as thou assertest, but Christ, our Lord and our God, who blesses us. We are not strangers to tears and to sorrow, for our religion teaches us to grieve over the aftlic- tions of others. But these tears hold within them a comfort unknown to thee, for, when our lives are ended, we shall find again the beloved ones who are perishing and have perished for the truth of God. Peter and Paul are not dead to us. They have been reborn into glory. We see them with the eyes of our souls, and though our bodily eyes may weep, yet our hearts rejoice with their joy. Yea, dear friend, we are happy with a happiness that can know no end, because death, which for thee is the end of everything, is for us only the beginning of a higher happiness. So the days and the months pass in perfect peace. Our servants and slaves believe as we do in Christ, and in Christ’s gospel of love. So we all love one another. Often when the sun has set, or when the moon shines on the water, Lyvia and I hold converse about the past, which now seems all a dream. When I remember how near was that beloved head to torture and death, I glorify God with my whole soul, for He alone could have rescued her from the arena and returned her into my hands. Petronius! thou hast known what com- fort and fortitude that religion can give in the midst of afflictions, what courage in the face of death. Now come aud witness the joy it can give in every-day life. The world has not hitherto known a God whom it could love. So men did not love one another. Hence arose all manner of afflic- tions. For just as light proceeds from the sun, so does hapypi- nes: proceed from love. The law-givers and the philosophers have not known this truth; it had no existence in Greece or in Rome—and by Rome I mean the whole world. The dry, cold philosophy of the Stoics, which appeals to so many who would fain be virtuous, does indeed temper the heart as steel is tempered, but it hardens rather than improves it. But why do I write this to thee, who art more learned and 500 QUO VADIS. more clever than I? Thou hast known Paul of Tarsus, and hast held converse with him more than once; hence thou knowest better than I how empty and how vain, what a glit- tering show of meaningless words are the teachings of rhe- toricians and philosophers compared to the religion which he preached. ‘Thou canst recall the question he asked the: “Tf Caesar were a Christian, would ye not all feel safer, more secure in your possessions, freer from alarm, and more certain of the morrow?” Thou hast told me that our creed was an enemy of life. I tell thee now, that if from the be- ginning to the end of this letter I simply repeated these th-ee words, “I am happy,” I could not sufficiently emphasize that happiness. Thou mayest make answer that my happiness is Lygia. There is truth in that, oh, my friend. But that is because I love her immortal soul, and cach loves the other in Christ. Such love can know neither separation, nor dis- loyalty, nor alteration, nor age, nor death. Even after youth and beauty have passed away,and our bodies are withered, and death touches us, love will remain, for the spirit remains. Ere my eyes were opened to the light I would have burned down my own home for sake of Lygia; but now I say that I did not know what love was until Christ showed me the way. He is the source of love and of joy. Contrast thy luxuries, filled full as they are with alarm; thy joys, uncertain of the morrow; thy orgies, with the lives led by Christians, and an answer must at once be forthcoming. But for a better com- parison, come to our hills, fragrant with thyme; come to our olive groves and ivy-covered shores. Such calm awaits thee as thou hast never before experienced, and the sincere love of loyal hearts. With thy noble soul thou wilt find joy here. Thy nimble wit will see the truth, and seeing it, will learn to love it. Men like Caesar and Tigellinus may hate it, but none can be indifferent to it. Oh, Petronius! Lygia and I find solace in the thought that thou wilt soon be with us. Be well. Be happy. Come and visit us! Petronius received Venitius’s letter in Cumae, whither he had departed, together with other Augustales, in the com- pany of Caesar. His long struggle against Tigellinus was nearing its end. Petronius knew that he must be beaten in the end, and he understood the reasons. As Caesar fell grad- ually lower to the role of the comedian, mountebank, char- ioteer, as he sank deeper in a slough of coarse dissipation, the Arbiter of Elegance became a nuisance to him. Even QUO VADIS. sot in the silence of Petronius Nero read disapproval. His very praises Nero interpreted as sarcasm. The illustrious patri- cian offended his self-love and provoked his envy. His riches and his magnificent works of art had become objects of de- sire both to the sovereign and to his powerful minister. Petronius had been spared with a view to this journey to Achaea, in which his taste and his knowledge of Greek art might prove useful. But Tigellinus attempted to prove to Caesar that Carinas excelled the Arbiter in taste and erudi- tion, and that he would be better able to arrange the games, receptions and triumphs in Achaea. From that moment the doom of Petronius was sealed. But Caesar had not the courage to send him his sentence in Rome. Both Caesar and Tigellinus called to mind that this indolent aesthete, who turned day into night, and was interested only in art and tanquets and luxury, had shown great power of work and energy at the time when he was pro-consul in Bithynia, and aficrwards when consul in the capital. He commanded great respect in Rome, where he possessed not only the love of the people, but also of the pretorians. None of Caesar’s ad- visers could foresee exactly how Petronius would act, so it scerued safer to get him out of the city, and to strike at him in a province. Consequently, Petronius received an invitation to go with ether Augustales to Cumae. Though he suspected treachery, le went along, in order, perhaps, not to make a display of open resistance, and to show once more to Caesar and to the Augustales a face joyful and free from care, and so gain a final victory before death over Tigellinus. Meanwhile, the latter accused him of friendship with Senator Scevinus, who was the head and front of Piso’s conspiracy. Servants of Pe- tronius remaining in Rome were imprisoned, his home was surrounded by pretorian guards. When he received this news he showed no alarm or concern, but, with a smile, said to such Augustales as he was entertaining in his own beautiful villa in Cumae: “Bronzebeard likes not direct questions, so you will see how confused he will be when I ask him whether it was he who ordered my people to be imprisoned.” Then he badethem to a feast before “the longer journey.” He was preparing for the banquet when the letter from Vinitius arrived. On its receipt Petronius grew somewhat thoughtful, but in a little while his face resumed its wonted calm expression. During the evening he answered as follows: 502 QUO VADIS. I rejoice at your happiness and wonder at your good heari, for I had not thought that two lovers could remember a third person at a distance. You not only have not forgotten me, but invite me to Sicily to share with me your bread and your Christ, who, as thou writest, has showered happiness upon you If this be true, honor Him. I think, however, oh, friend, that Lygia was restored to thee partly by the aid of Ursus, and party, also, by the Roman people. If Caesar were another man, I should think that further persecutions would be stopped through consideration of thy kinship to him through the granddaughter of Tiberius. But if thou he- lievest that Christ was the sole cause of Lygia’s rescue, I will not dispute with thee. So, spare no sacrifices to Him. Promotheus also sacrificed himself for mankind, but, alas! Prometheus is probably an invention of the poets, while truthful men have told me that they have seen Christ with their own eyes. I have come to think with thee that He is the most worthy of the gods. I remember the question of Paul of Tarsus, and think that if Bronzebeard lived according to the precepts of Christ, I might find time to visit you in Sicily. Then, in the shade of tree and by fountains, we could discuss all the gods and all the truths that have been debated among the Greek philos- ophers of all time. To-day, I must give thee a brief answer. Two philosophers only do I respect; the name of one is Pyrrho, and Anacreon is the other. The rest I will sell tiree cheap, together with the whole school of Greek Stoics, and our own. Truth abides somewhere so high that the gods themselves cannot see it from the heights of Olympus. To thee, dearest friend, thy Olympus seems still higher, and, standing upon it, thou callest down to me: “Ascend, and thou wilt see such sights as thou hadst not dreamed of here- tofore.” Perhaps. But I answer: “Friend, I have not the legs!” And when thou reachest the end of this letter thou wilt acknowledge that I am right. No!- Happy spouse of the Princess Aurora! Thy creed is not for me. Should I love the Bithynians who carry my litter, the Egyptians who prepare my bath? Am I to love Bronzebeard and Tigellinus? By the white knees of the Graces, I swear to thee that even if I desired to love them, I could not! There are in Rome at least one hundred thou- sand persons who have either crooked shoulders, or big knees, or thin legs, cross eyes, or heads too large for them. Dost QUO VADIS. 503 thou command me to love them also? Where can I find that love if I do not feel it in my heart? And if thy God wishes that I love them all, why in His omnipotence did He not endow them with, for example, the forms of Niobe’s chil- dren, which thou hast seen on the Palatine? Whoever loves beauty cannot for that very reason love ugliness. One may disbelieve in our gods, but it is possible to love them as did Phidias, Praxiteles, Myron, Scopias, and Lysias. Even should I desire to go whither thou wouldst lead me, I could not. Thou believest, like Paul of Tarsus, that some time beyond the Styx, in some Elysian fields, thou wilt see thy Christ. Well, let Him say then Himself whether He would accept me with my gems, my Myrrhene vase, my edi- tions of Sozius, and my golden-haired Eunice. I smile at the thought of this, my friend, for Paul of Tarsus declared to me that, for Christ’s sake, it was necessary to renounce rose gar- lands, banquets, and luxuries. True, he promised me other happiness, but I replied that I was too old for new joys, and that roses will always delight my eyes, and that the odor of violets will always be sweeter to me than the smell of some dirty neighbor from the Suburra. These are reasons why thy happiness cannot be mine; but there is also another reason, which I reserve for the last. It is that death calls me. For thee, life is beginning to dawn; but for me. the sun is already set, and twilight is descending upon my head. In other words, I must die, oh, dear one! It is not worth while to speak at length about this. It had to end thus. Thou, who knowest Bronzebeard, wilt read- ily understand. Tigellinus has conquered, or, rather, my vic- tories reached their end. I have lived as I pleased, and will die as pleases me. Do not grieve. No god has promised me immortality, hence J am not taken by surprise. But thou art mistaken, Vinitius, in affirming that only thy God teaches men to die calmly. No; our world knew before you that when the last cup is drained it is time to depart, to rest, and it knows yet how to do this serenely. Plato says that“Virtue is music, and that the life of a philosopher is harmony.” If this be true, I shall die as I have lived, virtuously. I should like to say farewell to thy divine wife, with the words I once spoke to her in the house of Aulus: “I have seen many persons, but thy equal, never.” So if the soul is something more than what Pyrrho thinks, 504. QUO VADIS. mine will fly to thee on the way to the limits of the ocean, and will alight at thy house in the form of a butterfly, or, as the Egyptians believe, of a hawk. Otherwise, I cannot come. Meantime, let Sicily take the place of the Gardens of Hesperides; may the divinities of the field and the forest and the fountains scatter flowers on your path, and may white doves build their nests on every acanthus of the columns of your house! CHAPTER XXXI. Petronius did not deceive himself. Two days later young Nerva, always devoted to him, sent his freedman to Cumae with the news of all that had happened at Caesar’s court. The death of Petronius had already been decreed. On the following day a centurion was to be sent to him with orders to stop at Cumae and wait there for further instruc- tions; another messenger was to bring the death sentence a few days later. Petronius received the news brought by the freedman with unruffied demeanor, and said: “Thou wilt take to thy master one of my vases that will be handed to thee before departing. Say to him in my name than I thank him with. all my heart, for now I shall be able to anticipate the sentence.” And suddenly he broke into a Jaugh like a man who has just thought of a splendid project, and enjoys beforehand its fulfillment. And that same evening his slaves ran about bidding all the Augustales, with their ladies, to come to a banquet at the beautiful villa of the Arbiter of Elegance. Petronius spent the afternoon hours writing in his library. Afterwards he took a bath, and then commanded the robe folders to dress him. Splendid and adorned like a god, he went to the dining hall to cast a connoisseur’s eye upon the preparations, and then to the gardens, where youths and Grecian maidens from the islands were weaving garlands of roses for the banquet. Not the slightest anxiety was portrayed on his face. The servants only knew that the banquet would be something out QUO VADIS. 505 of the common, for he had ordered unusual rewards to be given those with whom he was satisfied, and light floggings to those whose work should not please him, or to those who had previously deserved blame or punishment. He directed that the lute players and the singers should be generously rewarded. Finally, seating himself in the garden beneath a beech, through whose foliage the sun made bright spots upon the ground, he called Eunice to his side. Gently touch- ing her temple, he gazed at her with the admiration with which a connoisseur looks upon a statue fresh from the chisel of a master. “Eunice,” asked he, “dost thou know that for a long time thou hast not been a slave?” She lifted up to him her calm, heavenly blue eyes, and shook her head in denial. “Master,” she said, “I will always be thy slave.” “But, mayhap, thou dost not know,” continued Petronius, “that this villa and these slaves, weaving garlands over yon- der, and all that is here, the fields and the herds, belong from henceforth to thee.” ; At these words Eunice suddenly fell back a few steps, and in a voice choked by emotion inquired: “Why dost thou say this, master?” She approached him again, and stared at him with eyes full of fear. Her face grew as pale as a sheet. He still smiled, and smiling, said only one word—“Yes.” There was a moment of silence, broken only by the rustling of the wind in the leaves of the boxwood trees. Petronius might almost have imagined that he had in front of him a statue cut in white marble. “Hunice,” he said, “I desire to die in peace.” ‘The girl, gazing at him with a heart-broken smile, whis- pered, “Master, I obey thee.” fn the evening the guests arrived in large numbers. They had been at many a banquet of Pectronius, and knew that, in comparison, even Caesar’s feasts seemed dull and barbarous. Many knew well that the clouds of Caesar’s displeasure hung over the Arbiter of Elegance. But this had happened so many times, and so many times had Petronius known how to disperse them with a clever word or a bold act, that no one actually believed any grave danger impended over him. His gay face and customary careless smile confirmed the common impression. The beautiful Eunice, to whom he had ex- pressed his wish to die in peace and to whom his every word 506 QUO VADIS. was as the word of an oracle, preserved perfect calmness of expression. There were marvelous gleams in her eyes, as of inner joy. Youths with hair in golden nets stood at the threshold of the banquet hall. On their heads were wreaths of roses. In conformity with ancient custom, they warned the guest to step over the threshold with the right foot fore- most. A slight fragrance of violets pervaded the hall; lights burned in many-colored Alexandrian glasses. Beside the couches stood little Grecian girls, whose office it was to anoint with balsams the feet of the guests. The walls were lined by lute players and Athenian singers, awaiting a signal from their leader. The table service was resplendent with luxury, but that luxury did not offend the most critical taste. It seemed to be a natural development. Cheerfulness and freedom from restraint pervaded the hall with the fragrance of the violets. The guests as they entered felt that neither compulsion nor menace was hanging over them, as they used to feel they did in Caesar’s palace, where insufficient praise for a song or poem might be paid for by the forfeit of one’s life. The sight of the lamps, of the ivy-covered goblets of iced wines imbedded in snow, and of the exquisite dishes, cheered the hearts of the banqueters. The conversation became as lively as the buzzing of a swarm of bees over an apple tree in blos- som. Now and then it was interrupted by a burst of gay laughter, a murmur of praise, or too loud a kiss, imprinted upon a bare, white shoulder. As they drank their wine, the guests spilled from their goblets a few drops to the immortal gods as a petition for protection and for favors to the host. .t mattered not that many of them disbelieved in the gods. Custom and conven- tion commanded this. Petronius, reclining beside Eunice, chatted of the current Roman gossip, of the latest divorces, love, romances and races; of Spiculus, who had recently earned fame in the arena, and of the newest books which had appeared at the shops of Atractus and Socii. Pouring out some wine, he explained that he poured it out only in honor of the Cyprian goddess, the oldest and greatest among all the gods, the only immortal one, enduring from the beginning, and dominating everyone. His conversation was like a sunbeam, which lights up every new object, or like a summer breeze which rustles the flowers in the garden. At length he nodded as a signal to the leader QUO VADIS. 507 of the choir. Then the lutes emitted a gentle sound, and fresh young voices responded to them. Then girl dancers from Cos, Eunice’s countrywomen, moved nimbly, their rosy bodies shining through translucent robes. At the end an Egyptian soothsayer forecast the future of the guests from the motions of gold fish inclosed in a crystal vessel. When they had had enough of these amusements, Petronius lifted himself slightly from his Syrian cushion, and said, carelessly: “Friends, pardon me if I ask a favor from you at this banquet. It is this: Let every guest accept from me as a gift the goblet from which he spilt wine in honor of the gods and for my well-being.” The goblets of Petronius glittered with gold and precious stones and masterly carvings. Although the distribution of gifts was customary in Rome, joy filled the hearts of the revellers. Some of them thanked him and praised him loudly, others said that Jupiter himself had never honored the gods in Olympus with such precious gifts. ‘There were even some who hesitated about accepting them, since these gifts were of such unprecedented value. Petronius, lifting up a Myrrhene vase resembling a rainbow in brilliancy, said: “This is the gob- let from which I spilt wine in honor of the lady of Cyprus. Henceforth, let no lips touch it, and let no other hand pour out wine from it in honor of any other deity.” He cast the precious vessel down upon the floor, strewn with lilac-colored crocuses, and when it broke into small fragments, he said, in answer to the general amazement: “Dear friends, be merry and marvel not. Old age and debility are sad comrades for the last years of life, so I will give you a good example and good advice. As you see, you need not wait for them, but before they come you can depart of your own free will, as I depart.” “What is thy intention?” cried a number of voices at once. “I intend to be merry, to drink wine, to hear music, to gaze at these divine shapes which you see by my side, and then to fall asleep with my head crowned with flowers. I have already taken leave of Caesar. Will you hearken to what I have written to him as a farewell?” He took a letter from under the purple cushion, and read as follows: “Oh, Caesar, I know that thou anxiously awaitest my com- ing and that thy loyal and friendly heart yearns for me day 508 QUO VADIS. and night. I know that thou wouldst rain gifts upon me, make me the prefect of thy pretorian guards and command Tigellinus to become that for which the gods created him, au overseer cf mules in those, thy lands, which thou didst inherit by the poisoning of Domitius. Pray pardon me if now I swear to thee by Hades and by the shades of thy mother, thy wife, thy brother, and Seneca, who are all there, that I can- not gotothes. Life isa great treasure, my beloved, and from ‘this treasure I have known how to select the most precious gems. But in life there are many things which I cannot lon- ger endure. Pray do not think that my feelings were hurt, because thou didst kill thy mother, thy wife, and thy brother, because thou didst burn Rome, and send to Erebus all thehon- est men in thy Empire. No, grandson of Chronos, death is the common doom of humanity, and one could expect noth- ing else from thee. But, to lacerate my ears for long years to come with thy singing, to see thy mountebank legs contorted in the Pyrrhean dance, to listen to thy playing, thy declama- tion, thy poems, oh, wretched Suburban versifier, would be too much for my strength, and has aroused in me a wishtodie. Rome stops her ears to avoid hearing thee, the world laughs at thee, and I wish no longer to blush for thee, nor can I do it. The howls of Cerberus, my beloved, though they resemble thy singing, will less offend me, for I have never been his friend, and I do not need to be ashamed of him. Farewell, but sing no more; kill, but write no poems; poison, but dance not; turn incendiary, but do not play on the harp. Such are the wishes and such the last friendly advice sent to thee by the Arbiter of Elegance.” The banqucters were struck dumb with terror. They knew that the loss of the Empire would have been a less cruel blow to Nero, they knew also that the man who wrote that letter must dic. At the same time pallid fear seized them for their own sakes, because they had been present at its reading. Petronius burst into a laugh so genuine and so gay, that it seemed as if the whole matter were merely an innocent joke. Then he glanced around him and said: “Be merry, and drive away fear, nobody need boast that he heard this letter read. I myself will boast of it only to Charon, when he ferries me over the river.” He nodded to the Greek physician andstretched his arm out to him. The skillful Greek, in the twinkling of an eye, bound it with a golden ribbon and opened the vein at the bend Copyright, 1897, Henry Altemus. DEATH OF PETRONIUS AND EUNICE. QUO VADIS. 509 of the elbow. The blood spouted out upon the cushion and covered Eunice, who supported the head of Petronius. Bend- ing over him she said: “Master, didst thou think that I would leave thee? If the gods would grant thee immortality, and Caesar were to give thee the rule of the whole world, I would yet go with thee.” Petronius smiled. Raising himself slightly, he touched his lips to hers and replied: “Come with me.” ‘Then he added: “Thou hast truly loved me, my divine one.” And she stretched her rosy arm out to the physician and soon her blood flowed out and mingled with his. He gave a sign to the leader of the choir. Again harps and voices resounded. First they sang Harmodius, then the song of Anacreon, in which the poet complained of having found under the tree the frozen and weeping child of Aphro- dite, of having brought him in, warmed him back to life and dried his wings and then of how the ingrate had in return pierced his heart with an arrow, since which time he had lost: all peace of mind. Petronius and Eunice, reclining against each other, beauti- ful as two gods, listened smiling and growing paler. When the song was ended, Petronius ordered more wine and fresh dishes to be served, and commenced a discussion with the guests seated near him about all those graceful trifles which usually occupied the minds of the banqueters. Finally he summoned the Greek to bind up his veins for a moment, ex- plaining that drowsiness overpowered him and he wished to yield himself to slumber before death put him in eternal sleep. And thus he fell asleep. When he awoke, the head of the maiden lying beside him had already assumed the color of a white lily on his breast. He placed it on the cushion to get a final look at it. Then his veins were opened again. At his nod the singers began a new song of Anacrcon, and the harps accompanied it so gently as not to drown the words. Petron- ius grew paler and paler. When the last sounds died away, he turned once more to the banqueters and said: “Friends, acknowledge that with us perishes—” but he could not finish. With a last movement his arm embraced Eunice, his head fell on the cushion and he breathed his last. But the banqueters, gazing at these two white bodies resem- Llng two marvelous statues, well knew that with them ha:! perisned ell that remained to them in their world, its poet: and beanty. 510 QUO VADIS. EPILOGUE. The revolt of the Gallic Legions under the leadership of Vindex did not at first threaten to be very serious. Caesar was barely thirty-one years of age. No one dared to hope that the world would so soon be free from the nightmare that oppressed it. It was remembered that many revolts had al- ready occurred during previous reigns without resulting in any change of rule. Thus, in the time of Tiberius, Drusus had crushed the revolt of the Pannonian Legions, and Ger- manicus that of the Legions upon the Rhine. “And who,” said the people, “could possibly succeed Nero, now that all the descendants of the divine Augustus have been put to death?” Others, looking at the Colossus, conceived him to be a Hercu- les, and thought that nothing could break his power. There were even those who, after his departure for Achaea, longed for his return, since Helius and Polythetes, to whom he had relegated the government of Italy, ruled even more cruelly than himself. Nobody was certain either of life or property. The law ceased to be a protection. Human dignity and virtue had dis- appeared. Family ties had been dissolved. Debased hearts dared not even to admit-of hope. From Greece came rumors of the unparalleled triumphs of Caesar, of the thousands of crowns he had won, and of the thousands of rivals he had de- feated. The world seemed to be one vast orgy, blocdy, and farcical. The opinion prevailed that virtue and heroic deeds had come to an end, that the time had arrived for dancing and music, for debauchery, for blood, and that the whole fu- ture trend of life would be in this direction. Caesar himself. to whom rebellion opened the way for renewed plundering, cared little for the mutinous legions, or for Vindex, and did not even restrain his joy over the revolt. He would not leave Achaea. Only when notified by Helius that further delay might result in the loss of his dominions did he set out for Naples. ‘There he again played and sang, disregarding the news of still more serious events. Vainly did Tigellinus warn him that former rebellions of the Legions had no leader, whereas now there stood at their head a descendant of the ancient kings of Aquitania, a tried warrior of great renown. Nero’s answer was: “Here the Greeks listen to me—they who alone QUO VADIS. 511 know how to listen, and who alone are worthy of my singing.” He said that his first duty was owed to art and fame. Bui when at last he learned that Vindex had declared him to be a bad artist, he rose and set out for Rome. The wounds which Petronius had inflicted upon his self-love opened anew. He was anxious to seek justice from the Senate for such an unpar- alleled injury. On the road he came across a bronze group, representing a Gallic warrior vanquished by a Roman knight. He took this as a favorable augury. Thenceforth he mentioned the mu- tinous legions and Vindex only as a jest. His entrance into the city cast into the shade all former events of this sort. He drove the very chariot which Augustus had used in his tri- umph. One arch of the circus was destroyed to open a pas- sage for the procession. The Senate, the Knights, and an im- mense multitude came out to greet him. The walls trembled with the shouts of “Hail Augustus! hail Hercules! hail the di- vine one, the unconquerable one, the Olympian, the Pythian, tne Immortal.” Behind him were borne the crownsthathehad worn, and tablets inscribed with the names of the cities where he had triumphed and of the champions he had defeated. Nero himself was intoxicated. With emotion he asked the Augustales, who surrounded him, what was the triumph of Julius Caesar compared to this. The thought that any mor- tal could dare to raise a hand against such a demigod couldnot cross his mind. He felt himself to be truly an Olympian and therefore safe. Enthusiasm and the madness of the multi- tude stirred up answering madness within him. In fact, on that day of triumph, it seemed that not only Caesar and the city, but the whole world had gone mad. The flowers and the piles of crowns hid the abyss that yawned beneath. Yet that very evening the columns and walls of the temples were covered with inscriptions denounc- ing the crimes of Nero, threatening the near approach of ven- geance, and satirizing him as an artist. From lip to lip passed the words: “He sang until he awakened the Gauls.”* Alarm- ing news circulated throughout the city and swelled to mon- strous proportions. The Augustales were seized with terror. People, uncertain what the future might bring forth, dared not express wishes or hopes, dared not even feel or think. Nero, however, lived only in the theatre and in music. *In Latin this involves a pun upon Gallus, a cock. 512 QUO VADIS. Nothing interested him save newly invented instruments and a new water organ, experiments with which were made on the Palatine. Childishly incapable of thought or action he deemed that he could avert all danger by promises of specta- cles and exhibitions in the future. The people nearest to him,seeing that in lieu of providing means and an army he was exerting himself only to find apt expression for depicting the panic around him, began to lose their heads. Others, how- ever, thought that he was deafening himself and others with quotations only to hide the alarm and disquietude of his soul. His acts became confused. Every day thousands of fresh plans passed through his head. At times he leaped up to combat the danger, commanding that his lutes and harps be packed upon wagons,and that his young slave women bearmed as Amazons while he sent out orders to recall the legions from the east. At times he thought that he would conquer the rebel- lous legions, not by war, but by song. And he laughed within himself as he conjured up in his imagination the spectacle of the soldiers yielding to song. They would surround him with strcaming eyes. He would sing to them a hymn of victory, after which a golden epoch would begin for him and for Rome. At times he called for blood. At others he pro- claimed that Egypt alone would satisfy him. He recalled the soothsayers, who had promised him rule over Jerusalem. Then he would move himself to tears at the thought that as a wandering minstrel he would earn his own livelihood and be honored in far off cities and countries. He would be hon- ored, not as Caesar, the sovereign of the world, but as a poet, whose like had never yet been seen in the world. Thus he struggled, fumed, played, sang, changed his plans, changed his quotations, changed his life, and transformed the whole world about him into a foolish dream, fantastic and horrible—a mad rout of bombastic expressions, wretched verses, groans, tears and blood. And all this while the cloud in the west was growing larger and darker every day. The measure was overfilled. The farce was nearing its end. When news came that Galba and all Spain had joined the rebellion he fell into maddened fury. He crushed goblets, overturned the tables at the banquets, and gave orders which neither Hel- ius nor Tigellinus dared to carry out. To murder all the Gauls residing in Rome, to let loose the beasts from the me- nageries, to transfer the capital to Alexandria seemed to him sublime and astonishing deeds that could easily be accom- QUO VADIS. 513 plished. But the great days of his power had passed. Even the accomplices of his former crimes began to look upon him as on a madman. The death of Vindex and the consequent discord that arose in the mutinous legions seemed for a moment to turn the scales in his favor. New feasts and new triumphs were or- dered, new sentences were issued in Rome, when one night a courier, mounted on a foaming horse, came dashing in from the camp of the pretorians with the news that within the city itself the soldiers had raised the banner of revolt and had pro- claimed Galba, Caesar. Nero was asleep when the courier arrived. On waking he called vainly for the guards who at night watched the doors of his chambers. The palace was deserted save for the slaves who were plundering in the remoter quarters whatever could be carried away inahurry. But the sight of Nero frightened them away. He wandered through the solitary hall, filling them with cries of terror and despair. At last his freedmen, Phaon, Sporus and Epaphroditus answered his calls. They urged him to flee, saying there was not a moment to lose, but he continued to delude himself. Suppose he should array himself in his mourning robes and appeal to the Senate, could the Senate resist his tears and his eloquence? Suppose he should use all his oratory, his rhetoric and his talent of an actor, could any one in the world resist him? Would they not at least give him the governorship of Egypt? Habituated to flatter him, his freedmen dared not even now to contradict him. All they could do was to warn him that ere he could reach the Forum the mob would tear him to pieces. They threatened that if he did not mount his horse at once they also would desert him. Phaon offered him a hiding place in his own villa beyond the Nomentan Gate. At last they all leaped upon their horses and, covering their heads with mantles, galloped off toward the walls. The night was waning. The streets were already in motion and gave expression to the serious character of the situation. Soldiers, sometimes singly, and sometimes in at- tachments,were scattered throughout the city. When they had reached the camp, Nero’s horse shied suddenly at sight of a corpse, the mantle slipped from his head, a soldier who hap- pened to be passing, recognized the Emperor. Confused by the suddenness of the apparition, he could only give a military salute. On passing the pretorian camp they overheard thun- 514 QUO VADIS. derous cheers for Galba. At last Caesar understood that the hour of death was at hand. He was smitten by alarm and by the reproaches of his conscience. He cried out that he saw a black cloud before him from which protruded faces, in which he recognized his mother, his wife, and his brother. His teeth chattered from fright, but even yet his comedian soul found a certain pleasure in the very terror of the moment. That the one time omnipitent ruler of the universe had now lost everything seemed to him to be the highest watermark of tragedy. True to himself he continued to play the leading role init. The fever of quotation seized upon him, a passion- ate hope that those around him would remember them for posterity. There were moments when he cried out for death, and would have summoned Spiculus, the most dexterous of all the gladiators, there were other moments when he de- claimed, “Mother, wife, brother, call me to death!” Vain and childish hopes still flashed up in him ever and anon. He knew that death was approaching. Nevertheless he could not bring himself to believe it. They found the Nomentan Gate open. They galloped through, and passed by Ostranium, where Peter had taught and baptized. At dawn they arrived at Phaon’s villa. There the freedman no longer concealed from him that the time for death had arrived. Then he commanded them to dig him a grave. He lay down on the ground, so that they might take his exact measurement. But at sight of the earth cast up by the spades a mortal terror seized him. His fat face paled. Clammy drops of sweat, like morning dew, stood out upon his forehead. He strove for delay. With a falter- ing, yet still theatrical voice, he cried that the hour had not yet come. Then he began to quote again. Finally he asked them to burn him. “What an artist is now perishing,” he re- peated as if in wonder. Meanwhile a messenger arrived from Phaon, announcing that the Senate had already pronounced sentence that the parricide should be punished according to ancient custom. “What is that custom,” inquired Nero, with ashy lips. “They will place thy neck in a fork, flog thee to death, and throw thy corpse into the Tiber,” replied Epaphroditus quietly. Nero bared his breast. “It is true, then,” he said, looking upward at the sky, and once more he repeated: “What an artist is perishing!” QUO VADIS. 515 The clatter of horses’ hoofs was now heard. It was the a coming with his soldiers for the head of Bronze- eard. “Make haste!’ cried the freedman. Nero placed the knife to his neck, but he only pricked him- self with a timid hand. It was evident that he never would have courage to drive the blade in. Then unexpectedly Epa- phroditus pushed his hand. The knife entered to the hilt Nero’s eyes protruded from his head, horrible, immense, ter- rified. - “T bring thee life,” exclaimed the centurion as he entered. “Too late,” answered Nero in a hoarse voice. A moment later he added: “This is loyalty.” Death had now seized his head. The blood from his huge neck spurted in a thick stream upon the flowers of the garden. His feet kicked the ground and he died. On the morrow, the faithful Actea wrapped his body in costly stuffs and burned it on a funeral pyre drenched with perfumes. So passed Nero, as passes the whirlwind, storm, fire, war, or plague. But even to this day the basilica of Peter rules over the city and the world from the heights of the Vatican. 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A collection of Essays and Addresses by eminent English and American Authors, beautifully printed and daintily bound, with original designs in silver. PRICE, 25 CENTS PER VOLUME. INDEPENDENCE DAY, by Rev. Edward E. Hale. THE SCHOLAR IN POLITICS, by Hon, Richard Olney. THE YOUNG MAN IN BUSINESS, by Edward W. Bok. ee MAN AND THE CHURCH, by Edward - Bok. THE SPOILS SYSTEM, by Hon. Carl Schurz. CONVERSATION, by Thomas DeQuincey. SWEETNESS AND LIGHT, by Matthew Amold. WORK, by John Ruskin. NATURE AND ART, by Ralph Waldo Emerson. THE USE AND MISUSE OF BOOKS, by Frederic Harrison. 11 THE MONROE DOCTRINE: ITS ORIGIN, MEAN- ING AND _ APPLICATION, by Prof. John Bach McMaster (University of Pennsylvania). 1z2 THE DESTINY OF MAN, by Sir John Lubbock. 13 LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP, by Ralph Waldo Emerson. 14 RIP VAN WINKLE, by Washington Irving. 1s ART,POETRY AND MUSIC, by Sir Joha Lubbock. 16 THE CHOICE OF BOOKS, by Sir John Lubbock. 17 MANNERS, by Ralph Waldo Emerson. 18 CHARACTER, by Ralph Waldo Emerson. 1g THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW, by Wash- ington Irving. zo THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE, by Sir John Lubbock. ax SELF RELIANCE, by Ralph Waldo Emerson. 22 THE DUTY OF HAPPINESS, by Sir John Lubbock. 23 SPIRITUAL LAWS, by Ralph Waldo Emerson. 24 OLD CHRISTMAS, by Washington Irving 25 HEALTH, WEALTH AND THE BLESSING OF FRIENDS, by Sir John Lubbock. 26 INTELLECT, by Ralph Waldo Emerson. 27 WHY AMERICANS DISLIKE ENGLAND, by Prof. Geo. B. Adams ( Yale). 28 THE HIGHER EDUCATION ASA TRAINING FOR BUSINESS, by Prof. Harry Pratt Judson (University of Chicago). 29 MISS TOOSEY’S MISSION. go LADDIE. gr J. COLE, by Emma Gellibrand. oO ONAN AON 4 HENRY ALTEMUS’ PUBLICATIONS. ALTEMUS’ NEW ILLUSTRATED VADEMECUM SERIES. Masterpieces of English and American Literature, Handy Volume Size, Large Type Editions. Each Volume Contains Illuminated Title Pages, and Portrait of Author and Numerous Engravings Full Cloth, ivory finish, ornamental inlaid sides and back, boxed... . Pee eee ee ee eee 40 Full White Vellum, full silver and monotint, boxed. .. 50 1 CRANFORD, by Mrs. Gaskell. 2 A WINDOW IN THRUMS, by J. M. Barrie. RAB AND HiS FRIENDS, MARJGRIE FLEM- ING, ETC., by John Brown, M. D 4 THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD, by Oliver Goldsmith. oo 5 THEIDLETHOUGHTS OFAN IDLE FELLOW, by Jerome K. Jerome. ‘‘ A book for an idle holiday.” 6 TALES FROM SHAKSPEARE, i oa and Mary oe with an introduction by the Rev. Alfred Ainger, M.D. 7 SESAME AND LILIES, by John Ruskin. JYhree Lectures—I. Of the King’s Treasures. II. Of Queen’s Garden. III. Of the Mystery of Life. 8 THE ETHICS OF THE DUST, by John Ruskin. Ten lectures to little housewives on the elements of crystali- zation. g THE PLEASURES OF LIFE, by Sir John Lubbock. Complete in one volume. 1o THE SCARLET LETTER, by Nathaniel Hawthorne, 11 THE HOUSE OF THE SEVEN GABLES, by Nathaniel Hawthorne. 12 MOSSES FROM AN OLD MANSE, by Nathaniel Hawthorne. 33 14 15 16 37 18 a3 ai 23 25 26 27 26 HENRY ALTEMUS’ PUBLICATIONS. Altemus' New Illustrated Vademecum Series— continued. TWICE TOLD TALES, by Nathaniel Hawthorne. THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS (LORD) BACON WITH MEMOIRS AND NOTES. ESSAYS, First Series, by Ralph Waldo Emerson. ESSAYS, Second Series, by Ralph Waldo Emerson. REPRESENTATIVE MEN, by Ralph Waldo Emerson. Mental portraits each representing a class. 1. The Philosopher, 2. The Mystic. 3. TheSkeptic. 4. The Poet. 5. The Man of the World. 6. The Writer. THOUGHTS OF THE EMPEROR MARCUS oo ANTONINUS, translated by George ong. THE DISCOURSES OF EPICTETUS WITE THE ENCHIRIDION, translated by George Long. OF THE IMITATION OF CHRIST, by Thomas A‘Kempis. Four books complete in one volume. ADDRESSES, by Professor Henry Drummond. The Greatest Thing in the World; Pax Vobiscum; The Changed Life; How to Learn How; Dealing With Doubt; Preparation for Learning; What is a Chris- tian; The Study of the Bible; A Talk on Books. LETTERS, SENTENCES AND MAXIMS, by Lord Chesterfield. Masterpieces of good taste, good writing and good sense. REVERIES OF A BACHELOR. A book of the heart. By Ik Marvel. DREAM LIFE, by Ik Marvel. A companion to ‘‘ Reve- ties of a Bachelor.” SARTOR RESARTUS, by Thomas Carlyle. HEROES AND HERO WORSHIP, by Thomas Car- lyie. UNCLE TOM’S CABIN, by Harriet Beecher Stowe. ESSAYS OF ELIA, by Charles Lamb. 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 37 38 39 40 4 43 44 HENRY ALTEMUS’ PUBLICATIONS. Altemus’ New Illustrated Vademecum Series— continued. MY POINT OF VIEW. Representative selections from the works of Professor Henry Drummond by Wiiliam Shepard. THE SKETCH BOOK, by Washington Irving. Com- plete. KEPT FOR THE MASTER'S USE, by Frances Ridley Havergal. LUCILE, by Owen Meredith. LALLA ROOKH, by Thomas Moore. THE LADY OF THE LAKE, by Sir Walter Scott. MARMION, by Sir Walter Scott. THE PRINCESS; AND MAUD, by Alfred (Lord) Tennyson. CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE, by Lord Byron. IDYLLS OF THE KING, by Alfred (Lord) Tennyson. EVANGELINE, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. VOICES OF THE NIGHT AND OTHER POEMS, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. THE QUEEN OF THE AIR, by John Ruskin. A study of the Greek myths of cloud and storm. THE BELFRY OF BRUGES AND OTHER POEMS, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. POEMS, Volume I, by John Greenleaf Whittier. POEMS, Volume II, by John Greenleaf Whittier. HENRY ALTEMUS’ PUBLICATIONS. Altemus’ New Illustrated Vademecum Series— continued, 45 THE RAVEN; AND OTHER POEMS, by Edgar Alian Poe. 46 THANATOPSIS;AND OTHER POEMS, by William Cullen Bryant. 47 THE LAST LEAF;AND OTHER POEMS, by Oliver Wendell Holmes. 48 THE HEROES OR GREEK FAIRY TALES, by Charles Kingsley. 49 A WONDER BOOK, by Nathanie! Hawthorne. 50 UNDINE, by de La Motte Fouque. 5: ADDRESSES, by the Rt. Rev. Phillips Brooks. 52 Bee SHORTER STORIES, by Honore de C. 53 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST, by Richard H. Dana, Jr. 54 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. An Autobicgraphy. 55 THE LAST ESSAYS OF ELIA, by Charles Lamb, 56 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS, by Thomas Heghes. §7 WEIRD TALES, by Edgar Allan Poe. THE CROWN OF WILD OLIVE, by John Ruskin. Three lectures on Work, Traffic and War, NATURAL LAW IN THE SPIRITUAL WORLD, by Professor Henry Drummond. 6 ABBE CONSTANTIN, by Ludovic Halevy. ® 6: MANON LESCAUT, by Abbe Prevost. 62 63 64 65 67 &9 qo 72 73 74 76 77 78 79 HENRY ALTEMUS’ PUBLICATIONS. Altemus’ New Illustrated Vademecum Series— continued. THE ROMANCE OF A POOR YOUNG MAN, by Octave Feuillet. BLACK BEAUTY, by Anna Sewell. CAMILLE, by Alexander Dumas, Jr. THE LIGHT OF ASIA, by Sir Edwin Arnold. THE LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME, by Thomas Babington Macaulay. THE CONFESSIONS OF AN ENGLISH OPiUM- EATER, by Thomas De Quincey. TREASURE ISLAND, by Robert L. Stevenson. CARMEN, by Prosper Merimee. A SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY, by Laurence Sterne. THE BLITHEDALE ROMANCE, by Nathaniel Hawthorne. BAB BALLADS,AND SAVOY SONGS, by W.H. Gilbert. FANCEON, THE CRICKET, by George Sand. POEMS, by James Russell Lowell. JOHN PLOUGHIMAN'S TALK, by the Rev. Charles H. Spurgeon, JOHN PLOUGHMAN'S PICTURES, by the Rev. Charles t{. Spurgeon. THE MANLINESS OF CHRIST, by Thomas Lfughes, ADDRESSES TO YOUNG MEN, by the Rev. Henry Ward Beecher. THE AUTOCRAT OF THE BREAKFAST TABLE, by Oliver Wendell Holmes. 81 82 83 84 85 85 87 HENRY ALTEMUS’ PUBLICATIONS. Altemus’ New Illustrated Vademecum Series— continued. MULVANEY STORIES, by Rudyard Kipling. BALLADS, by Rudyard Kipling. MORNING THOUGHTS, by Frances Ridley Havergal. TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR ROOM, by T. S. Arthur, EVENING THOUGHTS, by Frances Ridley Havergal. IN MEMORIAM, by Alfred (Lord) Tennyson. COMING TO CHRIST, by Frances Ridley Havergal. HOUSE OF THE WOLF, by Stanley Weyman, AMERICAN POLITICS (non-Partisan), by Hon. Thomas V. Cooper. A history of all the Political Parties with their views and records on allimportant questions. All political platforms from the beginning to date. Great Speeches on Great issues. Parliamentary Practice and tabulated history of chronological events. A library without this work is de- ficient. 8vo.,750 pages. Cloth, $3.00. Tull Sheep Library style, $4.00. NAMES FOR CHILDREN, by Elisabeth Robinson Scovil, author of ‘‘The Care of Children,’’ “‘ Preparation for Motherhood.”’ In family life there is no question of greater weight or importance than naming the beby. The author gives much good advice and many suggestions on the sud- ject. Cloth, r2mo., $ .40. TRIF AND TRIXY, by John Habberton, author of ‘‘Helen’s Babies." The story is replete with vivid and spirited scenes; and is incomparably the happiest and most de- lightful work Mr. Habberton has yet written. Cloth, r2mo., $ .50. HENRY ALTEMUS’ PUBLICATIONS. MANUAL OF MYTHOLOGY. For the use of Schools, Art Students, and General Readers, byAlexander S.Murrzy, Department of Greek and Roman Antiquities, British Museum. With Notes, Revisions, and Additions by Wil- liam H. Klapp, Headmaster of The Protestant Episco- pal Academy, Philadelphia. With 2co illustrations, and an exhaustive Index. Large 12mo., 450 pages, $1.25. “‘Ithas been acknowledged the best work on the sub- ject to be found ina concise form, and as it embodies the results of the latest researches and discoveries in ancient mythologies, it is superior for school and general purposes as a hand book to any of the so-called stand- ard works.”” , THE AGE OF FABLE: OR BEAUTIES OF MYTH- OLOGY. By Thomas Bulfinch, with Notes, Revisions, and Additions by William H. Klapp, Headmaster of The Protestant Episcopal Academy, Philadelphia. With 200 illustrations andan Exhaustive Index. Large 12M0., 450 pages, $1.25. This work has always been regarded as classical authority. “‘The Grecian mythology is so intimately connected with the work of the greatest poets that it will continue to be interesting as long as classical poetry exists, and must form an indispensable part of the education of the man cf literature and of the gentleman.”’—Edmund Burke. ALTEMUS’ GOLDEN TREASURY OF RELIGIOUS THOUGHT. Full White Velium, with ornamentation in silver and various colored inks, from a new and appropriate design—v,o cents. x THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. 2 PEEP OF DAY. 3 LINE UPON LINE. 4 PRECEPT UPON PRECEPT. 5 THE PATHWAY OF SAFETY. 6 GOLD DUST. 7 BEECHER’S ADDRESSES TO YOUNG MEN. 8 DAILY FOOD FOR CHRISTIANS. g THE MANLINESS OF CHRIST. o THE PATHWAY OF PROMISE. a1 JESSICA’S FIRST PRAYER, AND JESSICA'S MOTHER. . 1z THE THRONE OF GRACE. Se ee err an see ee ean aaa ts angela Sere, pore imine eae Senior epee parerees ro See iierebleen! Peeper eater eo ee eee — al aii Da AOR OOD a ag pte Pa etree ecm eo Seino nanan er ees oe Sotoes ara Pee ee ere? Pace Epon teampnrennit marco bes iP Peni Ee ae npn deta ae ne oe tat eal t ctate ba gee eee et ae tied tact aed ere RE Li Pitt rian tert tid Eire ae Solfo Sree ef tener tthe tee cata sete Pet SIE: Snes co segs Peptic os : : Eee ne os ost re bors Pc ea FoI SPRL Cel 5 ; pete, oa Peers Saree i Pe PONT, eA eee ‘ ee va snes Speen SS aSeee a Rapes Si : eas rare ae nee a pe ap APE ee LFetetctar teeter niin eae al Peir se feat Seer