Quo Vadis, Henryk Sienkiewicz [e book reader android .TXT] 📗

before Lygia

again.

 

“I ask,” continued the young freedwoman, “for I have compassion on thee

—and I have compassion on the good Pomponia and Aulus, and on their

child. It is long since I began to live in this house, and I know what

Cæsar’s anger is. No! thou art not at liberty to flee from here. One

way remains to thee: implore Vinicius to return thee to Pomponia.”

 

But Lygia dropped on her knees to implore some one else. Ursus knelt

down after a while, too, and both began to pray in Cæsar’s house at the

morning dawn.

 

Acte witnessed such a prayer for the first time, and could not take her

eyes from Lygia, who, seen by her in profile, with raised hands, and

face turned heavenward, seemed to implore rescue. The dawn, casting

light on her dark hair and white peplus, was reflected in her eyes.

Entirely in the light, she seemed herself like light. In that pale

face, in those parted lips, in those raised hands and eyes, a kind of

superhuman exaltation was evident. Acte understood then why Lygia could

not become the concubine of any man. Before the face of Nero’s former

favorite was drawn aside, as it were, a corner of that veil which hides

a world altogether different from that to which she was accustomed. She

was astonished by prayer in that abode of crime and infamy. A moment

earlier it had seemed to her that there was no rescue for Lygia; now she

began to think that something uncommon would happen, that some aid would

come,—aid so mighty that Cæsar himself would be powerless to resist

it; that some winged army would descend from the sky to help that

maiden, or that the sun would spread its rays beneath her feet and draw

her up to itself. She had heard of many miracles among Christians, and

she thought now that everything said of them was true, since Lygia was

praying.

 

Lygia rose at last, with a face serene with hope. Ursus rose too, and,

holding to the bench, looked at his mistress, waiting for her words.

 

But it grew dark in her eyes, and after a time two great tears rolled

down her checks slowly.

 

“May God bless Pomponia and Aulus,” said she. “It is not permitted me

to bring ruin on them; therefore I shall never see them again.”

 

Then turning to Ursus she said that he alone remained to her in the

world; that he must be to her as a protector and a father. They could

not seek refuge in the house of Aulus, for they would bring on it the

anger of Cæsar. But neither could she remain in the house of Cæsar or

that of Vinicius. Let Ursus take her then; let him conduct her out of

the city; let him conceal her in some place where neither Vinicius nor

his servants could find her. She would follow Ursus anywhere, even

beyond the sea, even beyond the mountains, to the barbarians, where the

Roman name was not heard, and whither the power of Cæsar did not reach.

Let him take her and save her, for he alone had remained to her.

 

The Lygian was ready, and in sign of obedience he bent to her feet and

embraced them. But on the face of Acte, who had been expecting a

miracle, disappointment was evident. Had the prayer effected only that

much? To flee from the house of Cæsar is to commit an offence against

majesty which must be avenged; and even if Lygia succeeded in hiding,

Cæsar would avenge himself on Aulus and Pomponia. If she wishes to

escape, let her escape from the house of Vinicius. Then Cæsar, who does

not like to occupy himself with the affairs of others, may not wish even

to aid Vinicius in the pursuit; in every case it will not be a crime

against majesty.

 

But Lygia’s thoughts were just the following: Aulus would not even know

where she was; Pomponia herself would not know. She would escape not

from the house of Vinicius, however, but while on the way to it. When

drunk, Vinicius had said that he would send his slaves for her in the

evening. Beyond doubt he had told the truth, which he would not have

done had he been sober. Evidently he himself, or perhaps he and

Petronius, had seen Cæsar before the feast, and won from him the promise

to give her on the following evening. And if they forgot that day, they

would send for her on the morrow. But Ursus will save her. He will

come; he will bear her out of the litter as he bore her out of the

triclinium, and they will go into the world. No one could resist Ursus,

not even that terrible athlete who wrestled at the feast yesterday. But

as Vinicius might send a great number of slaves, Ursus would go at once

to Bishop Linus for aid and counsel. The bishop will take compassion on

her, will not leave her in the hands of Vinicius; he will command

Christians to go with Ursus to rescue her. They will seize her and bear

her away; then Ursus can take her out of the city and hide her from the

power of Rome.

 

And her face began to flush and smile. Consolation entered her anew, as

if the hope of rescue had turned to reality. She threw herself on

Acte’s neck suddenly, and, putting her beautiful lips to Acte’s cheek,

she whispered:

 

“Thou wilt not betray, Acte, wilt thou?”

 

“By the shade of my mother,” answered the freedwoman, “I will not; but

pray to thy God that Ursus be able to bear thee away.”

 

The blue, childlike eyes of the giant were gleaming with happiness. He

had not been able to frame any plan, though he had been breaking his

poor head; but a thing like this he could do,—and whether in the day or

in the night it was all one to him! He would go to the bishop, for the

bishop can read in the sky what is needed and what is not. Besides, he

could assemble Christians himself. Are his acquaintances few among

slaves, gladiators, and free people, both in the Subura and beyond the

bridges? He can collect a couple of thousand of them. He will rescue

his lady, and take her outside the city, and he can go with her. They

will go to the end of the world, even to that place from which they had

come, where no one has heard of Rome.

 

Here he began to look forward, as if to see things in the future and

very distant.

 

“To the forest? Ai, what a forest, what a forest!”

 

But after a while he shook himself out of his visions. Well, he will go

to the bishop at once, and in the evening will wait with something like

a hundred men for the litter. And let not slaves, but even pretorians,

take her from him! Better for any man not to come under his fist, even

though in iron armor,—for is iron so strong? When he strikes iron

earnestly, the head underneath will not survive.

 

But Lygia raised her finger with great and also childlike seriousness.

 

“Ursus, do not kill,” said she.

 

Ursus put his fist, which was like a maul, to the back of his head, and,

rubbing his neck with great seriousness, began to mutter. But he must

rescue “his light.” She herself had said that his turn had come. He

will try all he can. But if something happens in spite of him? In

every case he must save her. But should anything happen, he will

repent, and so entreat the Innocent Lamb that the Crucified Lamb will

have mercy on him, poor fellow. He has no wish to offend the Lamb; but

then his hands are so heavy.

 

Great tenderness was expressed on his face; but wishing to hide it, he

bowed and said,—“Now I will go to the holy bishop.”

 

Acte put her arms around Lygia’s neck, and began to weep. Once more the

freedwoman understood that there was a world in which greater happiness

existed, even in suffering, than in all the excesses and luxury of

Cæsar’s house. Once more a kind of door to the light was opened a

little before her, but she felt at once that she was unworthy to pass

through it.