Read FICTION books online

Reading books fiction 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.



Fiction genre suitable for people of all ages. Everyone will find something interesting for themselves. Our electronic library is always at your service. Reading online free books without registration. Nowadays ebooks are convenient and efficient. After all, don’t forget: literature exists and develops largely thanks to readers.
The genre of fiction is interesting to read not only by the process of cognition and the desire to empathize with the fate of the hero, this genre is interesting for the ability to rethink one's own life. Of course the reader may accept the author's point of view or disagree with them, but the reader should understand that the author has done a great job and deserves respect. Take a closer look at genre fiction in all its manifestations in our elibrary.



Read books online » Fiction » Quo Vadis by Henryk Sienkiewicz (detective books to read .TXT) 📖

Book online «Quo Vadis by Henryk Sienkiewicz (detective books to read .TXT) 📖». Author Henryk Sienkiewicz



1 ... 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 ... 108
Go to page:
much has he

prayed already and wept? How much has he implored the Lamb? And he

feels that he has not done penance enough yet! But now he has promised

again to kill a traitor,—and done well! He is permitted to pardon only

offences against himself; hence he will kill Glaucus, even before the

eyes of all the brethren and sisters, in Ostrianum tomorrow. But let

Glaucus be condemned previously by the elders among the brethren, by the

bishop, or by the Apostle. To kill is not a great thing; to kill a

traitor is even as pleasant as to kill a bear or a wolf. But suppose

Glaucus to perish innocently? How take on his conscience a new murder,

a new sin, a new offence against the Lamb?

 

“There is no time for a trial, my son,” said Chilo. “The traitor will

hurry from Ostrianum straightway to Cæsar in Antium, or hide in the

house of a certain patrician whom he is serving. I will give thee a

sign; if thou show it after the death of Glaucus, the bishop and the

Great Apostle will bless thy deed.”

 

Saying this, he took out a small coin, and began to search for a knife

at his belt; having found it, he scratched with the point on the

sestertium the sign of the cross; this coin he gave to the laborer.

 

“Here is the sentence of Glaucus, and a sign for thee. If thou show

this to the bishop after the death of Glaucus, he will forgive thee the

killing which thou hast done without wishing it.”

 

The laborer stretched out his hand involuntarily for the coin; but

having the first murder too freshly in his memory just then, he

experienced a feeling of terror.

 

“Father,” said he with a voice almost of entreaty, “dost thou take this

deed on thy conscience, and hast thou thyself heard Glaucus betraying

his brethren?”

 

Chilo understood that he must give proofs, mention names, otherwise

doubt might creep into the heart of the giant. All at once a happy

thought flashed through his head.

 

“Listen, Urban,” said he, “I dwell in Corinth, but I came from Kos; and

here in Rome I instruct in the religion of Christ a certain serving

maiden named Eunice. She serves as vestiplica in the house of a friend

of Cæsar, a certain Petronius. In that house I have heard how Glaucus

has undertaken to betray all the Christians; and, besides, he has

promised another informer of Cæsar’s, Vinicius, to find a certain maiden

for him among the Christians.”

 

Here he stopped and looked with amazement at the laborer, whose eyes

blazed suddenly like the eyes of a wild beast, and his face took on an

expression of mad rage and threat.

 

“What is the matter with thee?” asked Chilo, almost in fear.

 

“Nothing, father; tomorrow I will kill Glaucus.”

 

The Greek was silent. After a while he took the arm of the laborer,

turned him so that the light of the moon struck his face squarely, and

examined him with care. It was evident that he was wavering in spirit

whether to inquire further and bring everything out with clearness, or

for that time to stop with what he had learned or surmised.

 

At last, however, his innate caution prevailed. He breathed deeply once

and a second time; then, placing his hand on the laborer’s head again,

he asked, in an emphatic and solemn voice,—“But in holy baptism the

name Urban was given thee?”

 

“It was, father.”

 

“Then peace be with thee, Urban!”

Chapter XVIII

PETRONIUS to VINICIUS:

 

“Thy case is a bad one, carissime. It is clear that Venus has disturbed

thy mind, deprived thee of reason and memory, as well as the power to

think of aught else except love. Read some time thy answer to my

letter, and thou wilt see how indifferent thy mind is to all except

Lygia; how exclusively it is occupied with her, how it returns to her

always, and circles above her, as a falcon above chosen prey. By

Pollux! find her quickly, or that of thee which fire has not turned into

ashes will become an Egyptian sphinx, which, enamored, as ‘tis said, of

pale Isis, grew deaf and indifferent to all things, waiting only for

night, so as to gaze with stony eyes at the loved one.

 

“Run disguised through the city in the evening, even honor Christian

houses of prayer in thy philosopher’s company. Whatever excites hope

and kills time is praiseworthy. But for my friendship’s sake do this

one thing: Ursus, Lygia’s slave, is a man of uncommon strength very

likely; hire Croton, and go out three together; that will be safer and

wiser. The Christians, since Pomponia and Lygia belong to them, are

surely not such scoundrels as most people imagine. But when a lamb of

their flock is in question they are no triflers, as they have shown by

carrying away Lygia. When thou seest Lygia thou wilt not restrain

thyself, I am sure, and wilt try to bear her away on the spot. But how

wilt thou and Chilonides do it? Croton would take care of himself, even

though ten like Ursus defended the maiden. Be not plundered by Chilo,

but be not sparing of money on Croton. Of all counsels which I can give

this is the best one.

 

“Here they have ceased to speak of the infant Augusta, or to say that

she perished through witchcraft. Poppæa mentions her at times yet; but

Cæsar’s mind is stuffed with something else. Moreover, if it be true

that the divine Augusta is in a changed state again, the memory of that

child will be blown away without trace. We have been in Naples for some

days, or rather in Baiæ. If thou art capable of any thought, echoes of

our life must strike thy ear, for surely Rome talks of naught else. We

went directly to Baiæ, where at first memories of the mother attacked

us, and reproaches of conscience. But dost thou know to what

Ahenobarbus has gone already? To this, that for him even the murder of

his mother is a mere theme for verses, and a reason for buffoonish

tragic scenes.

 

“Formerly he felt real reproaches only in so far as he was a coward;

now, when he is convinced that the earth is under his feet as before,

and that no god is taking vengeance, he feigns them only to move people

by his fate. He springs up at night sometimes declaring that the Furies

are hunting him; he rouses us, looks around, assumes the posture of an

actor playing the role of Orestes, and the posture of a bad actor too;

he declaims Greek verses, and looks to see if we are admiring him. We

admire him apparently; and instead of saying to him, Go to sleep, thou

buffoon! we bring ourselves also to the tone of tragedy, and protect the

great artist from the Furies. By Castor! this news at least must have

reached thee, that he has appeared in public at Naples. They drove in

from the city and the surrounding towns all the Greek ruffians, who

filled the arena with such a vile odor of sweat and garlic that I thank

the gods that, instead of sitting in the first rows with the Augustians,

I was behind the scenes with Ahenobarbus. And wilt thou believe it, he

was afraid really! He took my hand and put it to his heart, which was

beating with increased pulsation; his breath was short; and at the

moment when he had to appear he grew as pale as a parchment, and his

forehead was covered with drops of sweat. Still he saw that in every

row of seats were pretorians, armed with clubs, to rouse enthusiasm if

the need came. But there was no need. No herd of monkeys from the

environs of Carthage could howl as did this rabble. I tell thee that

the smell of garlic came to the stage; but Nero bowed, pressed his hand

to his heart, sent kisses from his lips, and shed tears. Then he rushed

in among us, who were waiting behind the scenes, like a drunken man,

crying, ‘What were the triumphs of Julius compared with this triumph of

mine?’ But the rabble was howling yet and applauding, knowing that it

would applaud to itself favors, gifts, banquets, lottery tickets, and a

fresh exhibition by the Imperial buffoon. I do not wonder that they

applauded, for such a sight had not been seen till that evening. And

every moment he repeated: ‘See what the Greeks are! see what the Greeks

are!’ From that evening it has seemed to me that his hatred for Rome is

increasing. Meanwhile special couriers were hurried to Rome announcing

the triumph, and we expect thanks from the Senate one of these days.

Immediately after Nero’s first exhibition, a strange event happened

here. The theatre fell in on a sudden, but just after the audience had

gone. I was there, and did not see even one corpse taken from the

ruins. Many, even among the Greeks, see in this event the anger of the

gods, because the dignity of Cæsar was disgraced; he, on the contrary,

finds in it favor of the gods, who have his song, and those who listen

to it, under their evident protection. Hence there are offerings in all

the temples, and great thanks. For Nero it is a great encouragement to

make the journey to Achæa. A few days since he told me, however, that he

had doubts as to what the Roman people might say; that they might revolt

out of love for him, and fear touching the distribution of grain and

touching the games, which might fail them in case of his prolonged

absence.

 

“We are going, however, to Beneventum to look at the cobbler

magnificence which Vatinius will exhibit, and thence to Greece, under

the protection of the divine brothers of Helen. As to me, I have noted

one thing, that when a man is among the mad he grows mad himself, and,

what is more, finds a certain charm in mad pranks. Greece and the

journey in a thousand ships; a kind of triumphal advance of Bacchus

among nymphs and bacchantes crowned with myrtle, vine, and honeysuckle;

there will be women in tiger skins harnessed to chariots; flowers,

thyrses, garlands, shouts of ‘Evoe!’ music, poetry, and applauding

Hellas. All this is well; but we cherish besides more daring projects.

We wish to create a species of Oriental Imperium,—an empire of palm-trees, sunshine, poetry, and reality turned into a dream, reality turned

into the delight of life only. We want to forget Rome; to fix the

balancing point of the world somewhere between Greece, Asia, and Egypt;

to live the life not of men but of gods; not to know what commonness is;

to wander in golden galleys under the shadow of purple sails along the

Archipelago; to be Apollo, Osiris, and Baal in one person; to be rosy

with the dawn, golden with the sun, silver with the moon; to command, to

sing, to dream. And wilt thou believe that I, who have still sound

judgment to the value of a sestertium, and sense to the value of an as,

let myself be borne away by these fantasies, and I do this for the

reason that, if they are not possible, they are at least grandiose and

uncommon? Such a fabulous empire would be a thing which, some time or

other, after long ages, would seem a dream to mankind. Except when

Venus takes the form of Lygia, or even of a slave Eunice, or when art

beautifies it, life itself is empty, and many a time it has the face of

a monkey. But Bronzebeard will

1 ... 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 ... 108
Go to page:

Free ebook «Quo Vadis by Henryk Sienkiewicz (detective books to read .TXT) 📖» - read online now

Comments (0)

There are no comments yet. You can be the first!
Add a comment