Vergilius Part 2

"I shall not wait."

"Sweet flower of Rome," said he, looking into her eyes, "I know that you are mine now! Your voice--it is like the love-call of the robin!"

"Stubborn boy! Do you think I care for you?" She stopped and looked into his eyes.

"Else why should you wish to see the coin?" said he. "But, look! Upon my soul it is false!" A little silence followed.

"'Tis false!" he repeated. "I swear the coin lies, for I do love you, dearly."

"It does not lie," she whispered.

He put his arm about her.

"And I know," he answered, "why you think it cannot lie. It said, before, that you love me, and it was right."

She thrust him away gently, and, rising, as if stricken with sudden fear of him, ran a few paces up the walk. She turned quickly, and looked back at him as he approached. Her face had grown pale.

"I--I shall never speak with you again," she whispered.

"Oh, have mercy upon me, beautiful sister of Appius!" said the young knight, and there was a note of despair in his voice. "Have mercy upon me!"

"Young sir," said she, retreating slowly, as he advanced, "I do not love you--I do not love you."

She turned quickly, and ran to the peristyle, and, stopping not to glance back at him, entered the great marble home of her fathers.

He stood a moment looking at the sun-glow behind roof and dome and tower. A bridge of light, spanning the hollow of the city, had laid its golden timbers from hill to hill; and for a little the young man felt as if he were drowning in the shadows under it. He turned presently and hurried into the palace.

CHAPTER 3

"He is more honored than Jupiter these days," the philosopher was saying as Vergilius re-entered.

"Who?" inquired the young man.

"Who else but Caesar, and it is well. The G.o.ds--who are they?"

"The adopted children of Vergil and Homer," said Appius, brother of Arria, who had just returned from the baths.

"But our great father Augustus--who can doubt that he deserves our wors.h.i.+p?" said the philosopher, a subtle irony in his voice. It was this learned man who had long been the instructor of Vergilius.

"Who, indeed?" was the remark of another.

"But these G.o.ds!"

"At least they are not likely to cut off one's head," said Aulus.

"Speak not lightly of the G.o.ds," said Vergilius. "They are still a power with the people, and the people have great need of them. What shall become of Rome when the G.o.ds fall?"

"It shall sicken," said the philosopher, with a lift of his hand. "You that are young may live to see the end. It shall be like the opening of the underworld. Our republic is false, our G.o.ds are false, and, indeed, I know but one truth."

"And what may it be?" said another.

"We are all liars," he quickly answered.

"O tempora!" said the Lady Lucia. "It is an evil day, especially among men. When Quinta Claudia went with her n.o.ble sisters to meet the Idaean mother at Terracina they were able to find in Rome one virtuous man to escort them. But that was more than two hundred years ago."

"If one were to find him now, and he were to go," said the philosopher, "by the G.o.ds above us! I fear he would return a sad rake indeed."

"'Tis not a pleasant theme," said the Lady Lucia, by way of introducing another.

"The dear old girl!" said young Gracus, in a low tone, as he turned to the senator. "Her hair is a lie, her complexion is a lie, her lips are a lie."

"And her life is a lie," said the other.

"You enjoyed your walk?" asked the mother of Arria, addressing Vergilius.

"The walk was a delight to me and its end a sorrow," he answered.

"And you obeyed me?"

"To the letter." It is true, he thought, we are a generation of liars, but how may one help it? Then, quickly, a way seemed to suggest itself, and he added: "Madame, forgive me. I do now remember we had a word or two about love; but, you see, I was telling the legend of this coin. It has the power to show one if he be loved."

"By tossing?"

"By tossing. Head, yes; the reverse, no."

"Let me try." She flung it to the oaken beams and it fell on the great rug beside her.

"Madame, the hand is up," said Vergilius. "I fear it is not infallible."

"Let me see," she answered, stooping gravely to survey the coin.

Something pa.s.sed between her and her pleasure, and for one second a shadow wavered across her face.

"It is Death's hand, of course," she remarked, sadly. "Love is for the young and death is for the old."

"Old, madame! Why, your cheeks have roses in them."

"Good youth, you are too frank," said she, with a quick glance about her. "Did the coin say that she loved you?"

"It did."

"And what did she say?"

The young man hesitated.

"Come, you innocent! Of course, I knew that you would talk of nothing but love. What said she?"