Chapter XXI

EVERY drop of blood quivered in the young patrician at sight of her.

He forgot the crowd, the old man, his own astonishment at the

incomprehensible things which he had heard,--he saw only her. At last,

after all his efforts, after long days of alarm, trouble, and suffering,

he had found her! For the first time he realized that joy might rush at

the heart, like a wild beast, and squeeze it till breath was lost. He,

who had supposed hitherto that on “Fortuna” had been imposed a kind of

duty to accomplish all his wishes, hardly believed his own eyes now and

his own happiness. Were it not for that disbelief, his passionate

nature might have urged him to some unconsidered step; but he wished

to convince himself first that that was not the continuation of those

miracles with which his head was filled, and that he was not dreaming.

But there was no doubt,--he saw Lygia, and an interval of barely a few

steps divided them. She stood in perfect light, so that he could rejoice

in the sight of her as much as he liked. The hood had fallen from her

head and dishevelled her hair; her mouth was open slightly, her eyes

raised toward the Apostle, her face fixed in listening and delighted.

She was dressed in a dark woollen mantle, like a daughter of the people,

but never had Vinicius seen her more beautiful; and notwithstanding all

the disorder which had risen in him, he was struck by the nobility of

that wonderful patrician head in distinction to the dress, almost that

of a slave. Love flew over him like a flame, immense, mixed with a

marvellous feeling of yearning, homage, honor, and desire. He felt

the delight which the sight of her caused him; he drank of her as of

life-giving water after long thirst. Standing near the gigantic Lygian,

she seemed to him smaller than before, almost a child; he noticed,

too, that she had grown more slender. Her complexion had become almost

transparent; she made on him the impression of a flower, and a spirit.

But all the more did he desire to possess that woman, so different from

all women whom he had seen or possessed in Rome or the Orient. He felt

that for her he would have given them all, and with them Rome and the

world in addition.

He would have lost himself in gazing, and forgotten himself altogether,

had it not been for Chilo, who pulled the corner of his mantle, out of

fear that he might do something to expose them to danger. Meanwhile the

Christians began to pray and sing. After a while Maranatha thundered

forth, and then the Great Apostle baptized with water from the fountain

those whom the presbyters presented as ready for baptism. It seemed to

Vinicius that that night would never end. He wished now to follow Lygia

as soon as possible, and seize her on the road or at her house.

At last some began to leave the cemetery, and Chilo whispered,--“Let us

go out before the gate, lord, we have not removed our hoods, and people

look at us.”

Such was the case, for during the discourse of the Apostle all had cast

aside their hoods so as to hear better, and they had not followed the

general example. Chilo’s advice seemed wise, therefore. Standing before

the gate, they could look at all who passed; Ursus it was easy to

recognize by his form and size.

“Let us follow them,” said Chilo; “we shall see to what house they

go. To-morrow, or rather to-day, thou wilt surround the entrances with

slaves and take her.”

“No!” said Vinicius.

“What dost thou wish to do, lord?”

“We will follow her to the house and take her now, if thou wilt

undertake that task, Croton?”

“I will,” replied Croton, “and I will give myself to thee as a slave if

I do not break the back of that bison who is guarding her.”

But Chilo fell to dissuading and entreating them by all the gods not

to do so. Croton was taken only for defence against attack in case they

were recognized, not to carry off the girl. To take her when there were

only two of them was to expose themselves to death, and, what was

worse, they might let her out of their hands, and then she would hide

in another place or leave Rome. And what could they do? Why not act

with certainty? Why expose themselves to destruction and the whole

undertaking to failure?

Though Vinicius restrained himself with the greatest effort from seizing

Lygia in his arms at once, right there in the cemetery, he felt that the

Greek was right, and would have lent ear, perhaps, to his counsels, had

it not been for Croton, to whom reward was the question.

“Lord, command that old goat to be silent,” said he, “or let me drop my

fist on his head. Once in Buxentum, whither Lucius Saturnius took me to

a play, seven drunken gladiators fell on me at an inn, and none of them

escaped with sound ribs. I do not say to take the girl now from the

crowd, for they might throw stones before our feet, but once she is at

home I will seize her, carry her away, and take her whithersoever thou

shalt indicate.”

Vinicius was pleased to hear those words, and answered,--“Thus let it

be, by Hercules! To-morrow we may not find her at home; if we surprise

them they will remove the girl surely.”

“This Lygian seems tremendously strong!” groaned Chilo.

“No one will ask thee to hold his hands,” answered Croton.

But they had to wait long yet, and the cocks had begun to crow before

dawn when they saw Ursus coming through the gate, and with him Lygia.

They were accompanied by a number of other persons. It seemed to Chilo

that he recognized among them the Great Apostle; next to him walked

another old man, considerably lower in stature, two women who were not

young, and a boy, who lighted the way with a lantern. After that handful

followed a crowd, about two hundred in number; Vinicius, Chilo, and

Croton walked with these people.

“Yes, lord,” said Chilo, “thy maiden is under powerful protection. That

is the Great Apostle with her, for see how passing people kneel to him.”

People did in fact kneel before him, but Vinicius did not look at them.

He did not lose Lygia from his eyes for a moment; he thought only of

bearing her away and, accustomed as he had been in wars to stratagems

of all sorts, he arranged in his head the whole plan of seizure with

soldierly precision. He felt that the step on which he had decided was

bold, but he knew well that bold attacks give success generally.

The way was long; hence at moments he thought too of the gulf which

that wonderful religion had dug between him and Lygia. Now he understood

everything that had happened in the past, and why it had happened. He

was sufficiently penetrating for that. Lygia he had not known hitherto.

He had seen in her a maiden wonderful beyond others, a maiden toward

whom his feelings were inflamed: he knew now that her religion made her

different from other women, and his hope that feeling, desire, wealth,

luxury, would attract her he knew now to be a vain illusion. Finally he

understood this, which he and Petronius had not understood, that the

new religion ingrafted into the soul something unknown to that world

in which he lived, and that Lygia, even if she loved him, would not

sacrifice any of her Christian truths for his sake, and that, if

pleasure existed for her, it was a pleasure different altogether

from that which he and Petronius and Cæsar’s court and all Rome were

pursuing. Every other woman whom he knew might become his mistress,

but that Christian would become only his victim. And when he thought

of this, he felt anger and burning pain, for he felt that his anger was

powerless. To carry off Lygia seemed to him possible; he was almost sure

that he could take her, but he was equally sure that, in view of her

religion, he himself with his bravery was nothing, that his power

was nothing, and that through it he could effect nothing. That Roman

military tribune, convinced that the power of the sword and the fist

which had conquered the world, would command it forever, saw for the

first time in life that beyond that power there might be something else;

hence he asked himself with amazement what it was. And he could

not answer distinctly; through his head flew merely pictures of the

cemetery, the assembled crowd, and Lygia, listening with her whole soul

to the words of the old man, as he narrated the passion, death, and

resurrection of the God-man, who had redeemed the world, and promised it

happiness on the other shore of the Styx.

When he thought of this, chaos rose in his head. But he was brought

out of this chaos by Chilo, who fell to lamenting his own fate. He had

agreed to find Lygia. He had sought for her in peril of his life, and he

had pointed her out. But what more do they want? Had he offered to

carry the maiden away? Who could ask anything like this of a maimed man

deprived of two fingers, an old man, devoted to meditation, to science,

and virtue? What would happen were a lord of such dignity as Vinicius to

meet some mishap while bearing the maiden away? It is true that the gods

are bound to watch over their chosen ones,--but have not such things

happened more than once, as if the gods were playing games instead of

watching what was passing in the world? Fortune is blindfold, as is

well known, and does not see even in daylight; what must the case be at

night? Let something happen,--let that Lygian bear hurl a millstone at

the noble Vinicius, or a keg of wine, or, still worse, water,--who

will give assurance that instead of a reward blame will not fall on

the hapless Chilo? He, the poor sage, has attached himself to the noble

Vinicius as Aristotle to Alexander of Macedon. If the noble lord should

give him at least that purse which he had thrust into his girdle before

leaving home, there would be something with which to invoke aid in

case of need, or to influence the Christians. Oh, why not listen to the

counsels of an old man, counsels dictated by experience and prudence?

Vinicius, hearing this, took the purse from his belt, and threw it to

the fingers of Chilo.

“Thou hast it; be silent!”

The Greek felt that it was unusually heavy, and gained confidence.

“My whole hope is in this,” said he, “that Hercules or Theseus performed

deeds still more arduous; what is my personal, nearest friend, Croton,

if not Hercules? Thee, worthy lord, I will not call a demigod, for thou

art a full god, and in future thou wilt not forget a poor, faithful

servant, whose needs it will be necessary to provide for from time to

time, for once he is sunk in books, he thinks of nothing else; some

few stadia of garden land and a little house, even with the smallest

portico, for coolness in summer, would befit such a donor. Meanwhile

I shall admire thy heroic deeds from afar, and invoke Jove to befriend

thee, and if need be I will make such an outcry that half Rome will be

roused to thy assistance. What a wretched, rough road! The olive oil

is burned out in the lantern; and if Croton, who is as noble as he is

strong, would bear me to the gate in his arms, he would learn, to begin

with, whether he will carry the maiden easily; second, he would act

like Æneas, and win all the good gods to such a degree that touching the

result of the enterprise I should be thoroughly satisfied.”

“I should rather carry a sheep which died of mange a month ago,”

answered the gladiator; “but give that purse, bestowed by the worthy

tribune, and I will bear thee to the gate.”

“Mayst thou knock the great toe from thy foot,” replied the Greek;

“what profit hast thou from the teachings of that worthy old man, who

described poverty and charity as the two foremost virtues? Has he not

commanded thee expressly to love me? Never shall I make thee, I see,

even a poor Christian; it would be easier for the sun to pierce the

walls of the Mamertine prison than for truth to penetrate thy skull of a

hippopotamus.”

“Never fear!” said Croton, who with the strength of a beast had no human

feeling. “I shall not be a Christian! I have no wish to lose my bread.”

“But if thou knew even the rudiments of philosophy, thou wouldst know

that gold is vanity.”

“Come to me with thy philosophy. I will give thee one blow of my head in

the stomach; we shall see then who wins.”

“An ox might have said the same to Aristotle,” retorted Chilo.

It was growing gray in the world. The dawn covered with pale light the

outlines of the walls. The trees along the wayside, the buildings, and

the gravestones scattered here and there began to issue from the shade.

The road was no longer quite empty. Marketmen were moving toward the

gates, leading asses and mules laden with vegetables; here and there

moved creaking carts in which game was conveyed. On the road and along

both sides of it was a light mist at the very earth, which promised good

weather. People at some distance seemed like apparitions in that mist.

Vinicius stared at the slender form of Lygia, which became more silvery

as the light increased.

“Lord,” said Chilo, “I should offend thee were I to foresee the end of

thy bounty, but now, when thou hast paid me, I may not be suspected of

speaking for my own interest only. I advise thee once more to go home

for slaves and a litter, when thou hast learned in what house the divine

Lygia dwells; listen not to that elephant trunk, Croton, who undertakes

to carry off the maiden only to squeeze thy purse as if it were a bag of

curds.”

“I have a blow of the fist to be struck between the shoulders, which

means that thou wilt perish,” said Croton.

“I have a cask of Cephalonian wine, which means that I shall be well,”

answered Chilo.

Vinicius made no answer, for he approached the gate, at which a

wonderful sight struck his eyes. Two soldiers knelt when the Apostle was

passing; Peter placed his hand on their iron helmets for a moment, and

then made the sign of the cross on them. It had never occurred to

the patrician before that there could be Christians in the army; with

astonishment he thought that as fire in a burning city takes in more

and more houses, so to all appearances that doctrine embraces new souls

every day, and extends itself over all human understandings. This struck

him also with reference to Lygia, for he was convinced that, had

she wished to flee from the city, there would be guards willing to

facilitate her flight. He thanked the gods then that this had not

happened.

After they had passed vacant places beyond the wall, the Christians

began to scatter. There was need, therefore, to follow Lygia more from

a distance, and more carefully, so as not to rouse attention. Chilo fell

to complaining of wounds, of pains in his legs, and dropped more

and more to the rear. Vinicius did not oppose this, judging that the

cowardly and incompetent Greek would not be needed. He would even have

permitted him to depart, had he wished; but the worthy sage was detained

by circumspection. Curiosity pressed him evidently, since he continued

behind, and at moments even approached with his previous counsels; he

thought too that the old man accompanying the Apostle might be Glaucus,

were it not for his rather low stature.

They walked a good while before reaching the Trans-Tiber, and the sun

was near rising when the group surrounding Lygia dispersed. The Apostle,

an old woman, and a boy went up the river; the old man of lower stature,

Ursus, and Lygia entered a narrow vicus, and, advancing still about a

hundred yards, went into a house in which were two shops,--one for the

sale of olives, the other for poultry.

Chilo, who walked about fifty yards behind Vinicius and Croton, halted

all at once, as if fixed to the earth, and, squeezing up to the wall,

began to hiss at them to turn.

They did so, for they needed to take counsel.

“Go, Chilo,” said Vinicius, “and see if this house fronts on another

street.” Chilo, though he had complained of wounds in his feet, sprang

away as quickly as if he had had the wings of Mercury on his ankles, and

returned in a moment.

“No,” said he, “there is but one entrance.”

Then, putting his hands together, he said, “I implore thee, lord, by

Jupiter, Apollo, Vesta, Cybele, Isis, Osiris, Mithra Baal, and all the

gods of the Orient and the Occident to drop this plan. Listen to me--”

But he stopped on a sudden, for he saw that Vinicius’s face was pale

from emotion, and that his eyes were glittering like the eyes of a wolf.

It was enough to look at him to understand that nothing in the world

would restrain him from the undertaking. Croton began to draw air into

his herculean breast, and to sway his undeveloped skull from side to

side as bears do when confined in a cage, but on his face not the least

fear was evident.

“I will go in first,” said he.

“Thou wilt follow me,” said Vinicius, in commanding tones.

And after a while both vanished in the dark entrance.

Chilo sprang to the corner of the nearest alley and watched from behind

it, waiting for what would happen.