Quo Vadis: A Narrative of the Time of Nero by Henryk Sienkiewicz (good ebook reader txt) 📖

into which he had fallen, the degraded Augustians, the persecution threatening the Christians, Vinicius, Lygia, and looked only at her with the eyes of an anthetic man enamoured of marvellous forms, and of a lover for whom love breathes from those forms. She, in a transparent violet robe called “Coa vestis,” through which her maiden-like form appeared, was really as beautiful as a goddess. Feeling herself admired meanwhile, and loving him with all her soul, ever eager for his fondling, she blushed with delight as if she had been an innocent maiden.

“What wilt thou say to me, Charis?” asked Petronius, stretching his hands to her.

She, inclining her golden head to him, answered,—“Anthemios has come with his choristers, and asks if ‘tis thy wish to hear him.”

“Let him stay; he will sing to us during dinner the hymn to Apollo. By the groves of Paphos! when I see thee in that Coan gauze, I think that Aphrodite has veiled herself with a piece of the sky, and is standing before me.”

“O lord!”

“Come hither, Eunice, embrace me with thy arms, and give thy lips to me. Dost thou love me?”

“I should not have loved Zeus more.”

Then she pressed her lips to his, while quivering in his arms from happiness. After a while Petronius asked,—

“But if we should have to separate?”

Eunice looked at him with fear in her eyes.

“How is that, lord?”

“Fear not; I ask, for who knows but I may have to set out on a long journey?”

“Take me with thee-”

Petronius changed the conversation quickly, and said,—

“Tell me, are there asphodels on the grass plot in the garden?”

“The cypresses and the grass plots are yellow from the fire, the leaves have fallen from the myrtles, and the whole garden seems dead.”

“All Rome seems dead, and soon it will be a real graveyard. Dost thou know that an edict against the Christians is to be issued, and a persecution will begin during which thousands will perish?”

“Why punish the Christians, lord? They are good and peaceful.”

“For that very reason.”

“Let us go to the sea. Thy beautiful eyes do not like to see blood.”

“Well, but meanwhile I must bathe. Come to the elæothesium to anoint my arms. By the girdle of Kypris! never hast thou seemed to me so beautiful. I will give command to make a bath for thee in the form of a shell; thou wilt be like a costly pearl in it. Come, Golden-haired!”

He went out, and an hour later both, in garlands of roses and with misty eyes, were resting before a table covered with a service of gold. They were served by boys dressed as Cupids, they drank wine from ivy-wreathed goblets, and heard the hymn to Apollo sung to the sound of harps, under direction of Anthemios. What cared they if around the villa chimneys pointed up from the ruins of houses, and gusts of wind swept the ashes of burnt Rome in every direction? They were happy thinking only of love, which had made their lives like a divine dream. But before the hymn was finished a slave, the chief of the atrium, entered the hall.

“Lord,” said he, in a voice quivering with alarm, “a centurion with a detachment of pretorians is standing before the gate, and, at command of Cæsar, wishes to see thee.”

The song and the sound of lutes ceased. Alarm was roused in all present; for Cæsar, in communications with friends, did not employ pretorians usually, and their arrival at such times foreboded no good. Petronius alone showed not the slightest emotion, but said, like a man annoyed by continual visits,—

“They might let me dine in peace.” Then turning to the chief of the atrium, he said, “Let him enter.”

The slave disappeared behind the curtain; a moment later heavy steps were heard, and an acquaintance of Petronius appeared, the centurion Aper, armed, and with an iron helmet on his head.

“Noble lord,” said he, “here is a letter from Cæsar.”

Petronius extended his white hand lazily, took the tablet, and, casting his eye over it, gave it, in all calmness to Eunice.

“He will read a new book of the Troyad this evening, and invites me to come.’

“I have only the order to deliver the letter,” said the centurion.

“Yes, there will be no answer. But, centurion, thou mightst rest a while with us and empty a goblet of wine?”

“Thanks to thee, noble lord. A goblet of wine I will drink to thy health willingly; but rest I may not, for I am on duty.”

“Why was the letter given to thee, and not sent by a slave?”

“I know not, lord. Perhaps because I was sent in this direction on other duty.”

“I know, against the Christians?”

“Yes, lord.”

“Is it long since the pursuit was begun?”

“Some divisions were sent to the Trans-Tiber before midday.” When he had said this, the centurion shook a little wine from the goblet in honor of Mars; then he emptied it, and said,—

“May the gods grant thee, lord, what thou desirest.”

“Take the goblet too,” said Petronius.

Then he gave a sign to Anthemios to finish the hymn to Apollo.

“Bronzebeard is beginning to play with me and Vinicius,” thought he, when the harps sounded anew. “I divine his plan! He wanted to terrify me by sending the invitation through a centurion. They will ask the centurion in the evening how I received him. No, no! thou wilt not amuse thyself overmuch, cruel and wicked prophet. I know that thou wilt not forget the offence, I know that my destruction will not fail; but if thou think that I shall look into thy eyes imploringly, that thou wilt see fear and humility on my face, thou art mistaken.”

“Cæsar writes, lord,” said Eunice, “‘Come if thou hast the wish’; wilt thou go?”

“I am in excellent health, and can listen even to his verses,” answered Petronius; “hence I shall go, all the more since Vinicius cannot go.”

In fact, after the dinner was finished and after the usual walk, he gave himself into the hands of hairdressers and of slaves who arranged his robes, and an hour later, beautiful as a god, he gave command to take him to the Palatine.

It was late, the evening was warm and calm; the moon shone so brightly that the lampadarii going before the litter put out their torches. On the