Quo Vadis, Henryk Sienkiewicz [fox in socks read aloud .txt] 📗

and my wife, the beautiful and youthful Berenice, he sold to a slave-merchant. If Sophocles knew my history⁠—but what do I say? One better than Sophocles is listening.”

“Poor man!” said Poppaea.

“Whoso has seen the face of Aphrodite is not poor, lady; and I see it at this moment. But then I sought consolation in philosophy. When I came to Rome, I tried to meet Christian elders to obtain justice against Glaucus. I thought that they would force him to yield up my wife. I became acquainted with their chief priest; I became acquainted with another, named Paul, who was in prison in this city, but was liberated afterward; I became acquainted with the son of Zebedee, with Linus and Cletus and many others. I know where they lived before the fire, I know where they meet. I can point out one excavation in the Vatican Hill and a cemetery beyond the Porta Nomentana, where they celebrate their shameless ceremonies. I saw the Apostle Peter. I saw how Glaucus killed children, so that the Apostle might have something to sprinkle on the heads of those present; and I saw Lygia, the foster-child of Pomponia Graecina, who boasted that though unable to bring the blood of an infant, she brought the death of an infant, for she bewitched the little Augusta, thy daughter, O Cyrus, and thine, O Isis!”

“Dost hear, Caesar?” asked Poppaea.

“Can that be!” exclaimed Nero.

“I could forgive wrongs done myself,” continued Chilo, “but when I heard of yours, I wanted to stab her. Unfortunately I was stopped by the noble Vinicius, who loves her.”

“Vinicius? But did she not flee from him?”

“She fled, but he made search for her; he could not exist without her. For wretched pay I helped him in the search, and it was I who pointed out to him the house in which she lived among the Christians in the Trans-Tiber. We went there together, and with us thy wrestler Croton, whom the noble Vinicius hired to protect him. But Ursus, Lygia’s slave, crushed Croton. That is a man of dreadful strength, O Lord, who can break a bull’s neck as easily as another might a poppy stalk. Aulus and Pomponia loved him because of that.”

“By Hercules,” said Nero, “the mortal who crushed Croton deserves a statue in the Forum. But, old man, thou art mistaken or art inventing, for Vinicius killed Croton with a knife.”

“That is how people calumniate the gods. O lord, I myself saw Croton’s ribs breaking in the arms of Ursus, who rushed then on Vinicius and would have killed him but for Lygia. Vinicius was ill for a long time after that but they nursed him in the hope that through love he would become a Christian. In fact, he did become a Christian.”

“Vinicius?”

“Yes.”

“And, perhaps, Petronius too?” inquired Tigellinus, hurriedly.

Chilo squirmed, rubbed his hands, and said⁠—

“I admire thy penetration, O lord. He may have become one! He may very well have become one.”

“Now I understand why he defended the Christians.”

Nero laughed: “Petronius a Christian! Petronius an enemy of life and luxury! Be not foolish; do not ask me to believe that, since I am ready not to believe anything.”

“But the noble Vinicius became a Christian, lord. I swear by that radiance which comes from thee that I speak the truth, and that nothing pierces me with such disgust as lying. Pomponia Graecina is a Christian, little Aulus is a Christian, Lygia is a Christian, and so is Vinicius. I served him faithfully, and in return, at the desire of Glaucus the physician, he gave command to flog me, though I am old and was sick and hungry. And I have sworn by Hades that I will not forget that for him. O lord, avenge my wrongs on them, and I will deliver to thee Peter the Apostle and Linus and Cletus and Glaucus and Crispus, the highest ones, and Lygia and Ursus. I will point out hundreds of them to you, thousands; I will indicate their houses of prayer, the cemeteries, all thy prisons will not hold them! Without me ye could not find them. In misfortunes I have sought consolation; hitherto in philosophy alone, now I will find it in favors that will descend on me. I am old, and have not known life; let me begin.”

“It is thy wish to be a Stoic before a full plate,” said Nero.

“Whoso renders service to thee will fill it by that same.”

“Thou art not mistaken, O philosopher.”

But Poppaea did not forget her enemies. Her fancy for Vinicius was, indeed, rather a momentary whim, which had risen under the influence of jealousy, anger, and wounded vanity. Still the coolness of the young patrician touched her deeply, and filled her heart with a stubborn feeling of offense. This alone, that he had dared to prefer another, seemed to her a crime calling for vengeance. As to Lygia, she hated her from the first moment, when the beauty of that northern lily alarmed her. Petronius, who spoke of the too narrow hips of the girl, might talk what he pleased into Caesar, but not into the Augusta. Poppaea the critic understood at one cast of the eye that in all Rome Lygia alone could rival and even surpass her. Thenceforth she vowed her ruin.

“Lord,” said she, “avenge our child.”

“Hasten!” cried Chilo, “hasten! Otherwise Vinicius will hide her. I will point out the house to which she returned after the fire.”

“I will give thee ten men, and go this moment,” said Tigellinus.

“O lord! thou hast not seen Croton in the arms of Ursus; if thou wilt give fifty men, I will only show the house from a distance. But if ye will not imprison Vinicius, I am lost.”

Tigellinus looked at Nero. “Would it not be well, O divinity, to finish at once with the uncle and nephew?”

Nero thought a moment and answered⁠—

“No, not now. People would not believe us if we tried to persuade them that Petronius, Vinicius, or Pomponia Graecina had fired Rome. Their houses were