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

NEXT morning, Petronius had barely finished dressing in the unctorium when Vinicius came, called by Tiresias. He knew that no news had come from the gates. This information, instead of comforting him, as a proof that Lygia was still in Rome, weighed him down still more, for he began to think that Ursus might have conducted her out of the city immediately after her seizure, and hence before Petronius’s slaves had begun to keep watch at the gates. It is true that in autumn, when the days become shorter, the gates are closed rather early; but it is true, also, that they are opened for persons going out, and the number of these is considerable. It was possible, also, to pass the walls by other ways, well known, for instance, to slaves who wish to escape from the city. Vinicius had sent out his people to all roads leading to the provinces, to watchmen in the smaller towns, proclaiming a pair of fugitive slaves, with a detailed description of Ursus and Lygia, coupled with the offer of a reward for seizing them. But it was doubtful whether that pursuit would reach the fugitives; and even should it reach them, whether the local authorities would feel justified in making the arrest at the private instance of Vinicius, without the support of a pretor. Indeed, there had not been time to obtain such support. Vinicius himself, disguised as a slave, had sought Lygia the whole day before, through every corner of the city, but had been unable to find the least indication or trace of her. He had seen Aulus’s servants, it is true; but they seemed to be seeking something also, and that confirmed him in the belief that it was not Aulus who had intercepted the maiden, and that the old general did not know what had happened to her.

When Tiresias announced to him, then, that there was a man who would undertake to find Lygia, he hurried with all speed to the house of Petronius; and barely had he finished saluting his uncle, when he inquired for the man.

“We shall see him at once, Eunice knows him,” said Petronius. “She will come this moment to arrange the folds of my toga, and will give nearer information concerning him.”

“Oh! she whom thou hadst the wish to bestow on me yesterday?”

“The one whom thou didst reject; for which I am grateful, for she is the best vestiplica in the whole city.”

In fact, the vestiplica came in before he had finished speaking, and taking the toga, laid on a chair inlaid with pearl, she opened the garment to throw it on Petronius’s shoulder. Her face was clear and calm; joy was in her eyes.

Petronius looked at her. She seemed to him very beautiful. After a while, when she had covered him with the toga, she began to arrange it, bending at times to lengthen the folds. He noticed that her arms had a marvellous pale rose-color, and her bosom and shoulders the transparent reflections of pearl or alabaster.

“Eunice,” said he, “has the man come to Tiresias whom thou didst mention yesterday?”

“He has, lord.”

“What is his name?”

“Chilo Chilonides.”

“Who is he?”

“A physician, a sage, a soothsayer, who knows how to read people’s fates and predict the future.”

“Has he predicted the future to thee?”

Eunice was covered with a blush which gave a rosy color to her ears and her neck even.

“Yes, lord.”

“What has he predicted?”

“That pain and happiness would meet me.”

“Pain met thee yesterday at the hands of Tiresias; hence happiness also should come.”

“It has come, lord, already.”

“What?”

“I remain,” said she in a whisper.

Petronius put his hand on her golden head.

“Thou hast arranged the folds well to-day, and I am satisfied with thee, Eunice.”

Under that touch her eyes were mist-covered in one instant from happiness, and her bosom began to heave quickly.

Petronius and Vinicius passed into the atrium, where Chilo Chilonides was waiting. When he saw them, he made a low bow. A smile came to the lips of Petronius at thought of his suspicion of yesterday, that this man might be Eunice’s lover. The man who was standing before him could not be any one’s lover. In that marvellous figure there was something both foul and ridiculous. He was not old; in his dirty beard and curly locks a gray hair shone here and there. He had a lank stomach and stooping shoulders, so that at the first cast of the eye he appeared to be hunchbacked; above that hump rose a large head, with the face of a monkey and also of a fox; the eye was penetrating. His yellowish complexion was varied with pimples; and his nose, covered with them completely, might indicate too great a love for the bottle. His neglected apparel, composed of a dark tunic of goat’s wool and a mantle of similar material with holes in it, showed real or simulated poverty. At sight of him, Homer’s Thersites came to the mind of Petronius. Hence, answering with a wave of the hand to his bow, he said,—

“A greeting, divine Thersites! How are the lumps which Ulysses gave thee at Troy, and what is he doing himself in the Elysian Fields?”

“Noble lord,” answered Chilo Chilonides, “Ulysses, the wisest of the dead, sends a greeting through me to Petronius, the wisest of the living, and the request to cover my lumps with a new mantle.”

“By Hecate Triformis!” exclaimed Petronius, “the answer deserves a new mantle.”

But further conversation was interrupted by the impatient Vinicius, who inquired directly,—“Dost thou know clearly what thou art undertaking?”

“When two households in two lordly mansions speak of naught else, and when half Rome is repeating the news, it is not difficult to know,” answered Chilo. “The night before last a maiden named Lygia, but specially Callina, and reared in the house of Aulus Plautius, was intercepted. Thy slaves were conducting her, O lord, from Cæsar’s palace to thy ‘insula,’ and I undertake to find her in the city, or, if she has left the city—which is little likely—to indicate to thee, noble tribune, whither she has fled and where she has hidden.”

“That is well,” said Vinicius, who was pleased with the precision of the answer. “What means hast thou to do this?”

Chilo smiled cunningly. “Thou hast the means, lord; I have the wit only.”

Petronius