Quo Vadis: a narrative of the time of Nero Part 53

"Yes, there will be no answer. But, centurion, thou mightst rest a while with us and empty a goblet of wine?"

"Thanks to thee, n.o.ble lord. A goblet of wine I will drink to thy health willingly; but rest I may not, for I am on duty."

"Why was the letter given to thee, and not sent by a slave?"

"I know not, lord. Perhaps because I was sent in this direction on other duty."

"I know, against the Christians?"

"Yes, lord."

"Is it long since the pursuit was begun?"

"Some divisions were sent to the Trans-Tiber before midday." When he had said this, the centurion shook a little wine from the goblet in honor of Mars; then he emptied it, and said,-

"May the G.o.ds grant thee, lord, what thou desirest."

"Take the goblet too," said Petronius.

Then he gave a sign to Anthemios to finish the hymn to Apollo.

"Bronzebeard is beginning to play with me and Vinicius," thought he, when the harps sounded anew. "I divine his plan! He wanted to terrify me by sending the invitation through a centurion. They will ask the centurion in the evening how I received him. No, no! thou wilt not amuse thyself overmuch, cruel and wicked prophet. I know that thou wilt not forget the offence, I know that my destruction will not fail; but if thou think that I shall look into thy eyes imploringly, that thou wilt see fear and humility on my face, thou art mistaken."

"Caesar writes, lord," said Eunice, "'Come if thou hast the wish'; wilt thou go?"

"I am in excellent health, and can listen even to his verses," answered Petronius; "hence I shall go, all the more since Vinicius cannot go."

In fact, after the dinner was finished and after the usual walk, he gave himself into the hands of hairdressers and of slaves who arranged his robes, and an hour later, beautiful as a G.o.d, he gave command to take him to the Palatine.

It was late, the evening was warm and calm; the moon shone so brightly that the lampadarii going before the litter put out their torches. On the streets and among the ruins crowds of people were pus.h.i.+ng along, drunk with wine, in garlands of ivy and honeysuckle, bearing in their hands branches of myrtle and laurel taken from Caesar's gardens. Abundance of grain and hopes of great games filled the hearts of all with gladness. Here and there songs were sung magnifying the "divine night" and love; here and there they were dancing by the light of the moon, and the slaves were forced repeatedly to demand s.p.a.ce for the litter "of the n.o.ble Petronius," and then the crowd pushed apart, shouting in honor of their favorite.

He was thinking of Vinicius, and wondering why he had no news from him. He was an Epicurean and an egotist, but pa.s.sing time, now with Paul of Tarsus, now with Vinicius, hearing daily of the Christians, he had changed somewhat without his own knowledge. A certain breeze from them had blown on him; this cast new seeds into his soul. Besides his own person others began to occupy him; moreover, he had been always attached to Vinicius, for in childhood he had loved greatly his sister, the mother of Vinicius; at present, therefore, when he had taken part in his affairs, he looked on them with that interest with which he would have looked on some tragedy.

Petronius did not lose hope that Vinicius had antic.i.p.ated the pretorians and fled with Lygia, or, in the worse case, had rescued her. But he would have preferred to be certain, since he foresaw that he might have to answer various questions for which he would better be prepared.

Stopping before the house of Tiberius, he alighted from the litter, and after a while entered the atrium, filled already with Augustians. Yesterday's friends, though astonished that he was invited, still pushed back; but he moved on among them, beautiful, free, unconcerned, as self-confident as if he himself had the power to distribute favors. Some, seeing him thus, were alarmed in spirit lest they had shown him indifference too early.

Caesar, however, feigned not to see him, and did not return his obeisance, pretending to be occupied in conversation. But Tigellinus approached and said,

"Good evening, Arbiter Elegantiarum. Dost thou a.s.sert still that it was not the Christians who burnt Rome?"

Petronius shrugged his shoulders, and, clapping Tigellinus on the back as he would a freedman, answered,-

"Thou knowest as well as I what to think of that."

"I do not dare to rival thee in wisdom."

"And thou art right, for when Caesar reads to us a new book from the Troyad, thou, instead of crying out like a jackdaw, wouldst have to give an opinion that was not pointless."

Tigellinus bit his lips. He was not over-rejoiced that Caesar had decided to read a new book, for that opened a field in which he could not rival Petronius. In fact, during the reading, Nero, from habit, turned his eyes involuntarily toward Petronius, looking carefully to see what he could read in his face. The latter listened, raised his brows, agreed at times, in places increased his attention as if to be sure that he heard correctly. Then he praised or criticised, demanded corrections or the smoothing of certain verses. Nero himself felt that for others in their exaggerated praises it was simply a question of themselves, that Petronius alone was occupied with poetry for its own sake; that he alone understood it, and that if he praised one could be sure that the verses deserved praise. Gradually therefore he began to discuss with him, to dispute; and when at last Petronius brought the fitness of a certain expression into doubt, he said,-

"Thou wilt see in the last book why I used it."

"Ah," thought Petronius, "then we shall wait for the last book."

More than one hearing this said in spirit: "Woe to me! Petronius with time before him may return to favor and overturn even Tigellinus." And they began again to approach him. But the end of the evening was less fortunate; for Caesar, at the moment when Petronius was taking leave, inquired suddenly, with blinking eyes and a face at once glad and malicious,-

"But why did not Vinicius come?"

Had Petronius been sure that Vinicius and Lygia were beyond the gates of the city, he would have answered, "With thy permission he has married and gone." But seeing Nero's strange smile, he answered,-

"Thy invitation, divinity, did not find him at home."

"Say to Vinicius that I shall be glad to see him," answered Nero, "and tell him from me not to neglect the games in which Christians will appear."

These words alarmed Petronius. It seemed to him that they related to Lygia directly. Sitting in his litter, he gave command to bear him home still more quickly than in the morning. That, however, was not easy. Before the house of Tiberius stood a crowd dense and noisy, drunk as before, though not singing and dancing, but, as it were, excited. From afar came certain shouts which Petronius could not understand at once, but which rose and grew till at last they were one savage roar,-

"To the lions with Christians!"

Rich litters of courtiers pushed through the howling rabble. From the depth of burnt streets new crowds rushed forth continually; these, hearing the cry, repeated it. News pa.s.sed from mouth to mouth that the pursuit had continued from the forenoon, that a mult.i.tude of incendiaries were seized; and immediately along the newly cleared and the old streets, through alleys lying among ruins around the Palatine, over all the hills and gardens were heard through the length and breadth of Rome shouts of swelling rage,-

"To the lions with Christians!"

"Herd!" repeated Petronius, with contempt; "a people worthy of Caesar!" And he began to think that a society resting on superior force, on cruelty of which even barbarians had no conception, on crimes and mad profligacy, could not endure. Rome ruled the world, but was also its ulcer. The odor of a corpse was rising from it. Over its decaying life the shadow of death was descending. More than once this had been mentioned even among the Augustians, but never before had Petronius had a clearer view of this truth that the laurelled chariot on which Rome stood in the form of a triumphator, and which dragged behind a chained herd of nations, was going to the precipice. The life of that world-ruling city seemed to him a kind of mad dance, an orgy, which must end. He saw then that the Christians alone had a new basis of life; but he judged that soon there would not remain a trace of the Christians. And what then?

The mad dance would continue under Nero; and if Nero disappeared, another would be found of the same kind or worse, for with such a people and such patricians there was no reason to find a better leader. There would be a new orgy, and moreover a fouler and a viler one.

But the orgy could not last forever, and there would be need of sleep when it was over, even because of simple exhaustion.

While thinking of this, Petronius felt immensely wearied. Was it worth while to live, and live in uncertainty, with no purpose but to look at such a society? The genius of death was not less beautiful than the genius of sleep, and he also had wings at his shoulders.

The litter stopped before the arbiter's door, which was opened that instant by the watchful keeper.

"Has the n.o.ble Vinicius returned?" inquired Petronius.

"Yes, lord, a moment ago," replied the slave.

"He has not rescued her," thought Petronius. And casting aside his toga, he ran into the atrium. Vinicius was sitting on a stool; his head bent almost to his knees with his hands on his head; but at the sound of steps he raised his stony face, in which the eyes alone had a feverish brightness.

"Thou wert late?" asked Petronius.

"Yes; they seized her before midday."

A moment of silence followed.

"Hast thou seen her?"

"Yes."