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

and when bakers were

opening their shops.

 

On returning he gave command to put away Gulo’s corpse, which no one had

ventured to touch. The slaves from whom Lygia had been taken he sent to

rural prisons,—a punishment almost more dreadful than death. Throwing

himself at last on a couch in the atrium, he began to think confusedly

of how he was to find and seize Lygia.

 

To resign her, to lose her, not to see her again, seemed to him

impossible; and at this thought alone frenzy took hold of him. For the

first time in life the imperious nature of the youthful soldier met

resistance, met another unbending will, and he could not understand

simply how any one could have the daring to thwart his wishes. Vinicius

would have chosen to see the world and the city sink in ruins rather

than fail of his purpose. The cup of delight had been snatched from

before his lips almost; hence it seemed to him that something unheard of

had happened, something crying to divine and human laws for vengeance.

 

But, first of all, he was unwilling and unable to be reconciled with

fate, for never in life had he so desired anything as Lygia. It seemed

to him that he could not exist without her. He could not tell himself

what he was to do without her on the morrow, how he was to survive the

days following. At moments he was transported by a rage against her,

which approached madness. He wanted to have her, to beat her, to drag

her by the hair to the cubiculum, and gloat over her; then, again, he

was carried away by a terrible yearning for her voice, her form, her

eyes, and he felt that he would be ready to lie at her feet. He called

to her, gnawed his fingers, clasped his head with his hands. He strove

with all his might to think calmly about searching for her,—and was

unable. A thousand methods and means flew through his head, but one

wilder than another. At last the thought flashed on him that no one

else had intercepted her but Aulus, that in every case Aulus must know

where she was hiding. And he sprang up to run to the house of Aulus.

 

If they will not yield her to him, if they have no fear of his threats,

he will go to Cæsar, accuse the old general of disobedience, and obtain

a sentence of death against him; but before that, he will gain from them

a confession of where Lygia is. If they give her, even willingly, he

will be revenged. They received him, it is true, in their house and

nursed him,—but that is nothing! With this one injustice they have

freed him from every debt of gratitude. Here his vengeful and stubborn

soul began to take pleasure at the despair of Pomponia Græcina, when the

centurion would bring the death sentence to old Aulus. He was almost

certain that he would get it. Petronius would assist him. Moreover,

Cæsar never denies anything to his intimates, the Augustians, unless

personal dislike or desire enjoins a refusal.

 

Suddenly his heart almost died within him, under the influence of this

terrible supposition,—“But if Cæsar himself has taken Lygia?”

 

All knew that Nero from tedium sought recreation in night attacks. Even

Petronius took part in these amusements. Their main object was to seize

women and toss each on a soldier’s mantle till she fainted. Even Nero

himself on occasions called these expeditions “pearl hunts,” for it

happened that in the depth of districts occupied by a numerous and needy

population they caught a real pearl of youth and beauty sometimes. Then

the “sagatio,” as they termed the tossing, was changed into a genuine

carrying away, and the pearl was sent either to the Palatine or to one

of Cæsar’s numberless villas, or finally Cæsar yielded it to one of his

intimates. So might it happen also with Lygia. Cæsar had seen her

during the feast; and Vinicius doubted not for an instant that she must

have seemed to him the most beautiful woman he had seen yet. How could

it be otherwise? It is true that Lygia had been in Nero’s own house on

the Palatine, and he might have kept her openly. But, as Petronius said

truly, Cæsar had no courage in crime, and, with power to act openly, he

chose to act always in secret. This time fear of Poppæa might incline

him also to secrecy. It occurred now to the young soldier that Aulus

would not have dared, perhaps, to carry off forcibly a girl given him,

Vinicius, by Cæsar. Besides, who would dare? Would that gigantic blue-eyed Lygian, who had the courage to enter the triclinium and carry her

from the feast on his arm? But where could he hide with her; whither

could he take her? No! a slave would not have ventured that far. Hence

no one had done the deed except Cæsar.

 

At this thought it grew dark in his eyes, and drops of sweat covered his

forehead. In that case Lygia was lost to him forever. It was possible

to wrest her from the hands of any one else, but not from the hands of

Cæsar. Now, with greater truth than ever, could he exclaim, “Væ misero

mihi!” His imagination represented Lygia in Nero’s arms, and, for the

first time in life, he understood that there are thoughts which are

simply beyond man’s endurance. He knew then, for the first time, how he

loved her. As his whole life flashes through the memory of a drowning

man, so Lygia began to pass through his. He saw her, heard every word

of hers,—saw her at the fountain, saw her at the house of Aulus, and at

the feast; felt her near him, felt the odor of her hair, the warmth of

her body, the delight of the kisses which at the feast he had pressed on

her innocent lips. She seemed to him a hundred times sweeter, more

beautiful, more desired than ever,—a hundred times more the only one,

the one chosen from among all mortals and divinities. And when he

thought that all this which had become so fixed in his heart, which had

become his blood and life, might be possessed by Nero, a pain seized

him, which was purely physical, and so piercing that he wanted to beat

his head against the wall of the atrium, until he should break it. He

felt that he might go mad; and he would have gone mad beyond doubt, had

not vengeance remained to him. But as hitherto he had thought that he

could not live unless he got Lygia, he thought now that he would not die

till he had avenged her. This gave him a certain kind of comfort. “I

will be thy Cassius Chærea!” [The slayer of Caligula] said he to himself

in thinking of Nero. After a while, seizing earth in his hands from the

flower vases surrounding the impluvium, he made a dreadful vow to

Erebus, Hecate, and his own household lares, that he would have

vengeance.

 

And he received a sort of consolation. He had at least something to

live for and something with which to fill his nights and days. Then,

dropping his idea of visiting Aulus, he gave command to bear him to the

Palatine. Along the way he concluded that if they would not admit him

to Cæsar, or if they should try to find weapons on his person, it would

be a proof that Cæsar had taken Lygia. He had no weapons with him. He

had lost presence of mind in general; but as is usual with persons

possessed by a single idea, he preserved it in that which concerned his

revenge. He did not wish his desire of revenge to fall away

prematurely. He wished above all to see Acte, for he expected to learn

the truth from her. At moments the hope flashed on him that he might

see Lygia also, and at that thought he began to tremble. For if Cæsar

had carried her away without knowledge of whom he was taking, he might

return her that day. But after a while he cast aside this supposition.

Had there been a wish to return her to him, she would have been sent

yesterday. Acte was the only person who could explain everything, and

there was need to see her before others.

 

Convinced of this, he commanded the slaves to hasten; and along the road

he thought without order, now of Lygia, now of revenge. He had heard

that Egyptian priests of the goddess Pasht could bring disease on

whomever they wished, and he determined to learn the means of doing

this. In the Orient they had told him, too, that Jews have certain

invocations by which they cover their enemies’ bodies with ulcers. He

had a number of Jews among his domestic slaves; hence he promised

himself to torture them on his return till they divulged the secret. He

found most delight, however, in thinking of the short Roman sword which

lets out a stream of blood such as had gushed from Caius Caligula and

made ineffaceable stains on the columns of the portico. He was ready to

exterminate all Rome; and had vengeful gods promised that all people

should die except him and Lygia, he would have accepted the promise.

 

In front of the arch he regained presence of mind, and thought when he

saw the pretorian guard, “If they make the least difficulty in admitting

me, they will prove that Lygia is in the palace by the will of Cæsar.”

 

But the chief centurion smiled at him in a friendly manner, then

advanced a number of steps, and said,—“A greeting, noble tribune. If

thou desire to give an obeisance to Cæsar, thou hast found an

unfortunate moment. I do not think that thou wilt be able to see him.”

 

“What has happened?” inquired Vinicius.

 

“The infant Augusta fell ill yesterday on a sudden. Cæsar and the

august Poppæa are attending her, with physicians whom they have summoned

from the whole city.”

 

This was an important event. When that daughter was born to him, Cæsar

was simply wild from delight, and received her with extra humanum

gaudium. Previously the senate had committed the womb of Poppæa to the

gods with the utmost solemnity. A votive offering was made at Antium,

where the delivery took place; splendid games were celebrated, and

besides a temple was erected to the two Fortunes. Nero, unable to be

moderate in anything, loved the infant beyond measure; to Poppæa the

child was dear also, even for this, that it strengthened her position

and made her influence irresistible.

 

The fate of the whole empire might depend on the health and life of the

infant Augusta; but Vinicius was so occupied with himself, his own case

and his love, that without paying attention to the news of the centurion

he answered, “I only wish to see Acte.” And he passed in.

 

But Acte was occupied also near the child, and he had to wait a long

time to see her. She came only about midday, with a face pale and

wearied, which grew paler still at sight of Vinicius.

 

“Acte!” cried Vinicius, seizing her hand and drawing her to the middle

of the atrium, “where is Lygia?”

 

“I wanted to ask thee touching that,” answered she, looking him in the

eyes with reproach.

 

But though he had promised himself to inquire of her calmly, he pressed

his head with his hands again, and said, with a face distorted by pain

and anger,—“She is gone. She was taken from me on the way!”

 

After a while, however, he recovered, and thrusting his face up to

Acte’s, said through his