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

ON the evening of that day Vinicius, while returning home through the Forum, saw at the entrance to the Vicus Tuscus the gilded litter of Petronius, carried by eight stalwart Bithynians, and, stopping it with a sign of his hand, he approached the curtains.

“Thou hast had a pleasant dream, I trust, and a happy one!” cried he, laughing at sight of the slumbering Petronius.

“Oh, is it thou?” said Petronius, waking up. “Yes; I dropped asleep for a moment, as I passed the night at the Palatine. I have come out to buy something to read on the road to Antium. What is the news?”

“Art thou visiting the book-shops?” inquired Vinicius.

“Yes, I do not like to bring disorder into my library, so I am collecting a special supply for the journey. It is likely that some new things of Musonius and Seneca have come out. I am looking also for Persius, and a certain edition of the Eclogues of Vergilius, which I do not possess. Oh, how tired I am; and how my hands ache from covers and rings! For when a man is once in a book-shop curiosity seizes him to look here and there. I was at the shop of Avirnus, and at that of Atractus on the Argiletum, and with the Sozii on Vicus Sandalarius. By Castor! how I want to sleep!”

“Thou wert on the Palatine? Then I would ask thee what is it to be heard there? Or, knowest what?—send home the litter and the tubes with books, and come to my house. We will talk of Antium, and of something else.”

“That is well,” answered Petronius, coming out of the litter. “Thou must know, besides, that we start for Antium the day after to-morrow.”

“Whence should I know that?”

“In what world art thou living? Well, I shall be the first to announce the news to thee. Yes; be ready for the day after to-morrow in the morning. Peas in olive oil have not helped, a cloth around his thick neck has not helped, and Bronzebeard is hoarse. In view of this, delay is not to be mentioned. He curses Rome and its atmosphere, with what the world stands on; he would be glad to level it to the earth or to destroy it with fire, and he longs for the sea at the earliest. He says that the smells which the wind brings from the narrow streets are driving him into the grave. To-day great sacrifices were offered in all the temples to restore his voice; and woe to Rome, but especially to the Senate, should it not return quickly!”

“Then there would be no reason for his visit to Achæa?”

“But is that the only talent possessed by our divine Cæsar?” asked Petronius, smiling. “He would appear in the Olympic games, as a poet, with his ‘Burning of Troy’; as a charioteer, as a musician, as an athlete,—nay, even as a dancer, and would receive in every case all the crowns intended for victors. Dost know why that monkey grew hoarse? Yesterday he wanted to equal our Paris in dancing, and danced for us the adventures of Leda, during which he sweated and caught cold. He was as wet and slippery as an eel freshly taken from water. He changed masks one after another, whirled like a spindle, waved his hands like a drunken sailor, till disgust seized me while looking at that great stomach and those slim legs. Paris taught him during two weeks; but imagine to thyself Ahenobarbus as Leda or as the divine swan. That was a swan!—there is no use in denying it. But he wants to appear before the public in that pantomime,—first in Antium, and then in Rome.”

“People are offended already because he sang in public; but to think that a Roman Cæsar will appear as a mime! No; even Rome will not endure that!”

“My dear friend, Rome will endure anything; the Senate will pass a vote of thanks to the ‘Father of his country.’ And the rabble will be elated because Cæsar is its buffoon.”

“Say thyself, is it possible to be more debased?”

Petronius shrugged his shoulders. “Thou art living by thyself at home, and meditating, now about Lygia, now about Christians, so thou knowest not, perhaps, what happened two days since. Nero married, in public, Pythagoras, who appeared as a bride. That passed the measure of madness, it would seem, would it not? And what wilt thou say? the flamens, who were summoned, came and performed the ceremony with solemnity. I was present. I can endure much; still I thought, I confess, that the gods, if there be any, should give a sign. But Cæsar does not believe in the gods, and he is right.”

“So he is in one person chief priest, a god, and an atheist,” said Vinicius.

“True,” said Petronius, beginning to laugh. “That had not entered my head; but the combination is such as the world has not seen.” Then, stopping a moment, he said: “One should add that this chief priest who does not believe in the gods, and this god who reviles the gods, fears them in his character of atheist.”

“The proof of this is what happened in the temple of Vesta.” “What a society!”

“As the society is, so is Cæsar. But this will not last long.”

Thus conversing, they entered the house of Vinicius, who called for supper joyously; then, turning to Petronius he said,—“No, my dear, society must be renewed.”

“We shall not renew it,” answered Petronius, “even for the reason that in Nero’s time man is like a butterfly,—he lives in the sunshine of favor, and at the first cold wind he perishes, even against his will. By the son of Maia! more than once have I given myself this question: By what miracle has such a man as Lucius Saturninus been able to reach the age of ninety-three, to survive Tiberius, Caligula, Claudius? But never mind. Wilt thou permit me to send thy litter for Eunice? My wish to sleep has gone, somehow, and I should like to be joyous. Give command to cithara players to come to the supper, and afterward we will talk of Antium. It is needful to think of it, especially for thee.”

Vinicius gave the order to send for Eunice, but declared that he had no thought of breaking his head over the stay in Antium.

“Let those break their heads who cannot live otherwise than in the