Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. Quo Vadis by Henryk Sienkiewicz (detective books to read .TXT) 📖
- Author: Henryk Sienkiewicz
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through the opening of the arcade whole crowds were visible. Some of
the newly arrived, seeing that Vinicius was coming from the palace,
attacked him for news; but he hurried on without answering their
questions, till Petronius, who had come for news too, almost struck his
breast and stopped him.
Beyond doubt Vinicius would have become enraged at sight of Petronius,
and let himself do some lawless act in Cæsar’s palace, had it not been
that when he had left Acte he was so crushed, so weighed down and
exhausted, that for the moment even his innate irascibility had left
him. He pushed Petronius aside and wished to pass; but the other
detained him, by force almost.
“How is the divine infant?” asked he.
But this constraint angered Vinicius a second time, and roused his
indignation in an instant.
“May Hades swallow her and all this house!” said he, gritting his teeth.
“Silence, hapless man!” said Petronius, and looking around he added
hurriedly,—“If thou wish to know something of Lygia, come with me; I
will tell nothing here! Come with me; I will tell my thoughts in the
litter.”
And putting his arm around the young tribune, he conducted him from the
palace as quickly as possible. That was his main concern, for he had no
news whatever; but being a man of resources, and having, in spite of his
indignation of yesterday, much sympathy for Vinicius, and finally
feeling responsible for all that had happened, he had undertaken
something already, and when they entered the litter he said,—“I have
commanded my slaves to watch at every gate. I gave them an accurate
description of the girl, and that giant who bore her from the feast at
Cæsar’s,—for he is the man, beyond doubt, who intercepted her. Listen
to me: Perhaps Aulus and Pomponia wish to secrete her in some estate of
theirs; in that case we shall learn the direction in which they took
her. If my slaves do not see her at some gate, we shall know that she
is in the city yet, and shall begin this very day to search in Rome for
her.”
“Aulus does not know where she is,” answered Vinicius.
“Art thou sure of that?”
“I saw Pomponia. She too is looking for her.”
“She could not leave the city yesterday, for the gates are closed at
night. Two of my people are watching at each gate. One is to follow
Lygia and the giant, the other to return at once and inform me. If she
is in the city, we shall find her, for that Lygian is easily recognized,
even by his stature and his shoulders. Thou art lucky that it was not
Cæsar who took her, and I can assure thee that he did not, for there are
no secrets from me on the Palatine.”
But Vinicius burst forth in sorrow still more than in anger, and in a
voice broken by emotion told Petronius what he had heard from Acte, and
what new dangers were threatening Lygia,—dangers so dreadful that
because of them there would be need to hide her from Poppæa most
carefully, in case they discovered her. Then he reproached Petronius
bitterly for his counsel. Had it not been for him, everything would
have gone differently. Lygia would have been at the house of Aulus, and
he, Vinicius, might have seen her every day, and he would have been
happier at that moment than Cæsar. And carried away as he went on with
his narrative, he yielded more and more to emotion, till at last tears
of sorrow and rage began to fall from his eyes.
Petronius, who had not even thought that the young man could love and
desire to such a degree, when he saw the tears of despair said to
himself, with a certain astonishment,—“O mighty Lady of Cyprus, thou
alone art ruler of gods and men!”
WHEN they alighted in front of the arbiter’s house, the chief of the
atrium answered them that of slaves sent to the gates none had returned
yet. The atriensis had given orders to take food to them, and a new
command, that under penalty of rods they were to watch carefully all who
left the city.
“Thou seest,” said Petronius, “that they are in Rome, beyond doubt, and
in that case we shall find them. But command thy people also to watch
at the gates,—those, namely, who were sent for Lygia, as they will
recognize her easily.”
“I have given orders to send them to rural prisons,” said Vinicius, “but
I will recall the orders at once, and let them go to the gates.”
And writing a few words on a wax-covered tablet, he handed it to
Petronius, who gave directions to send it at once to the house of
Vinicius. Then they passed into the interior portico, and, sitting on a
marble bench, began to talk. The golden-haired Eunice and Iras pushed
bronze footstools under their feet, and poured wine for them into
goblets, out of wonderful narrow-necked pitchers from Volaterræ and
Cæcina.
“Hast thou among thy people any one who knows that giant Lygian?” asked
Petronius.
“Atacinus and Gulo knew him; but Atacinus fell yesterday at the litter,
and Gulo I killed.”
“I am sorry for him,” said Petronius. “He carried not only thee, but
me, in his arms.”
“I intended to free him,” answered Vinicius; “but do not mention him.
Let us speak of Lygia. Rome is a sea-”
“A sea is just the place where men fish for pearls. Of course we shall
not find her to-day, or tomorrow, but we shall find her surely. Thou
hast accused me just now of giving thee this method; but the method was
good in itself, and became bad only when turned to bad. Thou hast heard
from Aulus himself, that he intends to go to Sicily with his whole
family. In that case the girl would be far from thee.”
“I should follow them,” said Vinicius, “and in every case she would be
out of danger; but now, if that child dies, Poppæa will believe, and
will persuade Cæsar, that she died because of Lygia.”
“True; that alarmed me, too. But that little doll may recover. Should
she die, we shall find some way of escape.”
Here Petronius meditated a while and added,—“Poppæa, it is said,
follows the religion of the Jews, and believes in evil spirits. Cæsar
is superstitious. If we spread the report that evil spirits carried off
Lygia, the news will find belief, especially as neither Cæsar nor Aulus
Plautius intercepted her; her escape was really mysterious. The Lygian
could not have effected it alone; he must have had help. And where
could a slave find so many people in the course of one day?”
“Slaves help one another in Rome.”
“Some person pays for that with blood at times. True, they support one
another, but not some against others. In this case it was known that
responsibility and punishment would fall on thy people. If thou give
thy people the idea of evil spirits, they will say at once that they saw
such with their own eyes, because that will justify them in thy sight.
Ask one of them, as a test, if he did not see spirits carrying off Lygia
through the air, he will swear at once by the ægis of Zeus that he saw
them.”
Vinicius, who was superstitious also, looked at Petronius with sudden
and great fear.
“If Ursus could not have men to help him, and was not able to take her
alone, who could take her?”
Petronius began to laugh.
“See,” said he, “they will believe, since thou art half a believer
thyself. Such is our society, which ridicules the gods. They, too,
will believe, and they will not look for her. Meanwhile we shall put
her away somewhere far off from the city, in some villa of mine or
thine.”
“But who could help her?”
“Her co-religionists,” answered Petronius.
“Who are they? What deity does she worship? I ought to know that
better than thou.”
“Nearly every woman in Rome honors a different one. It is almost beyond
doubt that Pomponia reared her in the religion of that deity which she
herself worships; what one she worships I know not. One thing is
certain, that no person has seen her make an offering to our gods in any
temple. They have accused her even of being a Christian; but that is
not possible; a domestic tribunal cleared her of the charge. They say
that Christians not only worship an ass’s head, but are enemies of the
human race, and permit the foulest crimes. Pomponia cannot be a
Christian, as her virtue is known, and an enemy of the human race could
not treat slaves as she does.”
“In no house are they treated as at Aulus’s,” interrupted Vinicius.
“Ah! Pomponia mentioned to me some god, who must be one powerful and
merciful. Where she has put away all the others is her affair; it is
enough that that Logos of hers cannot be very mighty, or rather he must
be a very weak god, since he has had only two adherents,—Pomponia and
Lygia,—and Ursus in addition. It must be that there are more of those
adherents, and that they assisted Lygia.”
“That faith commands forgiveness,” said Vinicius. “At Acte’s I met
Pomponia, who said to me: ‘May God forgive thee the evil which thou hast
done to us and to Lygia.’”
“Evidently their God is some curator who is very mild. Ha! let him
forgive thee, and in sign of forgiveness return thee the maiden.”
“I would offer him a hecatomb tomorrow! I have no wish for food, or
the bath, or sleep. I will take a dark lantern and wander through the
city. Perhaps I shall find her in disguise. I am sick.”
Petronius looked at him with commiseration. In fact, there was blue
under his eyes, his pupils were gleaming with fever, his unshaven beard
indicated a dark strip on his firmly outlined jaws, his hair was in
disorder, and he was really like a sick man. Iras and the golden-haired
Eunice looked at him also with sympathy; but he seemed not to see them,
and he and Petronius took no notice whatever of the slave women, just as
they would not have noticed dogs moving around them.
“Fever is tormenting thee,” said Petronius.
“It is.”
“Then listen to me. I know not what the doctor has prescribed to thee,
but I know how I should act in thy place. Till this lost one is found I
should seek in another that which for the moment has gone from me with
her. I saw splendid forms at thy villa. Do not contradict me. I know
what love is; and I know that when one is desired another cannot take
her place. But in a beautiful slave it is possible to find even
momentary distraction.”
“I do not need it,” said Vinicius.
But Petronius, who had for him a real weakness, and who wished to soften
his pain, began to meditate how he might do so.
“Perhaps thine have not for thee the charm of novelty,” said he, after a
while (and here he began to look in turn at Iras and Eunice, and finally
he placed his palm on the hip of the golden-haired Eunice). “Look at
this grace! for whom some days since Fonteius Capiton the younger
offered three wonderful boys from Clazomene. A more beautiful figure
than hers even Skopas himself has not chiselled. I myself cannot tell
why I have remained indifferent to her thus far, since thoughts of
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