Quo Vadis by Henryk Sienkiewicz (detective books to read .TXT) 📖

hostages remained in Hister’s hands. The

mother died soon after, and Hister, not knowing what to do with the

daughter, sent her to Pomponius, the governor of all Germany. He, at

the close of the war with the Catti, returned to Rome, where Claudius,

as is known to thee, permitted him to have a triumph. The maiden on

that occasion walked after the car of the conqueror; but, at the end of

the solemnity,—since hostages cannot be considered captives, and since

Pomponius did not know what to do with her definitely—he gave her to

his sister Pomponia Græcina, the wife of Plautius. In that house where

all—beginning with the masters and ending with the poultry in the

hen-house—are virtuous, that maiden grew up as virtuous, alas! as Græcina

herself, and so beautiful that even Poppæa, if near her, would seem like

an autumn fig near an apple of the Hesperides.”

 

“And what?”

 

“And I repeat to thee that from the moment when I saw how the sun-rays

at that fountain passed through her body, I fell in love to

distraction.”

 

“She is as transparent as a lamprey eel, then, or a youthful sardine?”

 

“Jest not, Petronius; but if the freedom with which I speak of my desire

misleads thee, know this,—that bright garments frequently cover deep

wounds. I must tell thee, too, that, while returning from Asia, I slept

one night in the temple of Mopsus to have a prophetic dream. Well,

Mopsus appeared in a dream to me, and declared that, through love, a

great change in my life would take place.”

 

“Pliny declares, as I hear, that he does not believe in the gods, but he

believes in dreams; and perhaps he is right. My jests do not prevent me

from thinking at times that in truth there is only one deity, eternal,

creative, all-powerful, Venus Genetrix. She brings souls together; she

unites bodies and things. Eros called the world out of chaos. Whether

he did well is another question; but, since he did so, we should

recognize his might, though we are free not to bless it.”

 

“Alas! Petronius, it is easier to find philosophy in the world than

wise counsel.”

 

“Tell me, what is thy wish specially?”

 

“I wish to have Lygia. I wish that these arms of mine, which now

embrace only air, might embrace Lygia and press her to my bosom. I wish

to breathe with her breath. Were she a slave, I would give Aulus for

her one hundred maidens with feet whitened with lime as a sign that they

were exhibited on sale for the first time. I wish to have her in my

house till my head is as white as the top of Soracte in winter.”

 

“She is not a slave, but she belongs to the ‘family’ of Plautius; and

since she is a deserted maiden, she may be considered an ‘alumna.’

Plautius might yield her to thee if he wished.”

 

“Then it seems that thou knowest not Pomponia Græcina. Both have become

as much attached to her as if she were their own daughter.”

 

“Pomponia I know,—a real cypress. If she were not the wife of Aulus,

she might be engaged as a mourner. Since the death of Julius she has

not thrown aside dark robes; and in general she looks as if, while still

alive, she were walking on the asphodel meadow. She is, moreover, a

‘one-man woman’; hence, among our ladies of four and five divorces, she

is straighrway a phoenix. But! hast thou heard that in Upper Egypt the

phoenix has just been hatched out, as ‘tis said?—an event which happens

not oftener than once in five centuries.”

 

“Petronius! Petronius! Let us talk of the phoenix some other time.”

 

“What shall I tell thee, my Marcus? I know Aulus Plautius, who, though

he blames my mode of life, has for me a certain weakness, and even

respects me, perhaps, more than others, for he knows that I have never

been an informer like Domitius Afer, Tigellinus, and a whole rabble of

Ahenobarbus’s intimates [Nero’s name was originally L. Domitius

Ahenobarbus]. Without pretending to be a stoic, I have been offended

more than once at acts of Nero, which Seneca and Burrus looked at

through their fingers. If it isthy thought that I might do something

for thee with Aulus, I am at thy command.”

 

“I judge that thou hast the power. Thou hast influence over him; and,

besides, thy mind possesses inexhaustible resources. If thou wert to

survey the position and speak with Plautius.”

 

“Thou hast too great an idea of my influence and wit; but if that is the

only question, I will talk with Plautius as soon as they return to the

city.”

 

“They returned two days since.”

 

“In that case let us go to the triclinium, where a meal is now ready,

and when we have refreshed ourselves, let us give command to bear us to

Plautius.”

 

“Thou hast ever been kind to me,” answered Vinicius, with vivacity; “but

now I shall give command to rear thy statue among my lares,—just such a

beauty as this one,—and I will place offerings before it.”

 

Then he turned toward the statues which ornamented one entire wall of

the perfumed chamber, and pointing to the one which represented

Petronius as Hermes with a staff in his hand, he added,—“By the light

of Helios! if the ‘godlike’ Alexander resembled thee, I do not wonder at

Helen.”

 

And in that exclamation there was as much sincerity as flattery; for

Petronius, though older and less athletic, was more beautiful than even

Vinicius. The women of Rome admired not only his pliant mind and his

taste, which gained for him the title Arbiter elegantiæ, but also his

body. This admiration was evident even on the faces of those maidens

from Kos who were arranging the folds of his toga; and one of whom,

whose name was Eunice, loving him in secret, looked him in the eyes with

submission and rapture. But he did not even notice this; and, smiling

at Vinicius, he quoted in answer an expression of Seneca about woman,—

Animal impudens, etc. And then, placing an arm on the shoulders of his

nephew, he conducted him to the triclinium.

 

In the unctorium the two Grecian maidens, the Phrygians, and the two

Ethiopians began to put away the vessels with perfumes. But at that

moment, and beyond the curtain of the frigidarium, appeared the heads of

the balneatores, and a low “Psst!” was heard. At that call one of the

Grecians, the Phrygians, and the Ethiopians sprang up quickly, and

vanished in a twinkle behind the curtain. In the baths began a moment

of license which the inspector did not prevent, for he took frequent

part in such frolics himself. Petronius suspected that they took place;

but, as a prudent man, and one who did not like to punish, he looked at

them through his fingers.

 

In the unctorium only Eunice remained. She listened for a short time to

the voices and laughter which retreated in the direction of the

laconicum. At last she took the stool inlaid with amber and ivory, on

which Petronius had been sitting a short time before, and put it

carefully at his statue. The unctorium was full of sunlight and the

hues which came from the many-colored marbles with which the wall was

faced. Eunice stood on the stool, and, finding herself at the level of

the statue, cast her arms suddenly around its neck; then, throwing back

her golden hair, and pressing her rosy body to the white marble, she

pressed her lips with ecstasy to the cold lips of Petronius.