Chapter XXIII

A PIERCING pain roused Vinicius. At the first moment he could not

understand where he was, nor what was happening. He felt a roaring in

his head, and his eyes were covered as if with mist. Gradually, however,

his consciousness returned, and at last he beheld through that mist

three persons bending over him. Two he recognized: one was Ursus, the

other the old man whom he had thrust aside when carrying off Lygia. The

third, an utter stranger, was holding his left arm, and feeling it from

the elbow upward as far as the shoulder-blade. This caused so terrible

a pain that Vinicius, thinking it a kind of revenge which they were

taking, said through his set teeth, “Kill me!” But they paid no apparent

heed to his words, just as though they heard them not, or considered

them the usual groans of suffering. Ursus, with his anxious and also

threatening face of a barbarian, held a bundle of white cloth torn in

long strips. The old man spoke to the person who was pressing the arm of

Vinicius,--“Glaucus, art thou certain that the wound in the head is not

mortal?”

“Yes, worthy Crispus,” answered Glaucus. “While serving in the fleet as

a slave, and afterward while living at Naples, I cured many wounds, and

with the pay which came to me from that occupation I freed myself and my

relatives at last. The wound in the head is slight. When this one [here

he pointed to Ursus with his head] took the girl from the young man,

he pushed him against the wall; the young man while falling put out his

arm, evidently to save himself; he broke and disjointed it, but by so

doing saved his head and his life.”

“Thou hast had more than one of the brotherhood in thy care,” added

Crispus, “and hast the repute of a skilful physician; therefore I sent

Ursus to bring thee.”

“Ursus, who on the road confessed that yesterday he was ready to kill

me!”

“He confessed his intention earlier to me than to thee; but I, who know

thee and thy love for Christ, explained to him that the traitor is not

thou, but the unknown, who tried to persuade him to murder.”

“That was an evil spirit, but I took him for an angel,” said Ursus, with

a sigh.

“Some other time thou wilt tell me, but now we must think of this

wounded man.” Thus speaking, he began to set the arm. Though Crispus

sprinkled water on his face, Vinicius fainted repeatedly from suffering;

that was, however, a fortunate circumstance, since he did not feel the

pain of putting his arm into joint, nor of setting it. Glaucus fixed the

limb between two strips of wood, which he bound quickly and firmly, so

as to keep the arm motionless. When the operation was over, Vinicius

recovered consciousness again and saw Lygia above him. She stood there

at the bed holding a brass basin with water, in which from time to time

Glaucus dipped a sponge and moistened the head of his patient.

Vinicius gazed and could not believe his eyes. What he saw seemed a

dream, or the pleasant vision brought by fever, and only after a long

time could he whisper,--“Lygia!”

The basin trembled in her hand at that sound, but she turned on him eyes

full of sadness.

“Peace be with thee!” answered she, in a low voice.

She stood there with extended arms, her face full of pity and sorrow.

But he gazed, as if to fill his sight with her, so that after his lids

were closed the picture might remain under them. He looked at her face,

paler and smaller than it had been, at the tresses of dark hair, at the

poor dress of a laboring woman; he looked so intently that her snowy

forehead began to grow rose-colored under the influence of his look. And

first he thought that he would love her always; and second, that that

paleness of hers and that poverty were his work,--that it was he who had

driven her from a house where she was loved, and surrounded with plenty

and comfort, and thrust her into that squalid room, and clothed her in

that poor robe of dark wool.

He would have arrayed her in the costliest brocade, in all the jewels of

the earth; hence astonishment, alarm, and pity seized him, and sorrow so

great that he would have fallen at her feet had he been able to move.

“Lygia,” said he, “thou didst not permit my death.”

“May God return health to thee,” she answered, with sweetness.

For Vinicius, who had a feeling both of those wrongs which he had

inflicted on her formerly, and those which he had wished to inflict on

her recently, there was a real balsam in Lygia’s words. He forgot at the

moment that through her mouth Christian teaching might speak; he felt

only that a beloved woman was speaking, and that in her answer there was

a special tenderness, a goodness simply preterhuman, which shook him to

the depth of his soul. As just before he had grown weak from pain, so

now he grew weak from emotion. A certain faintness came on him, at once

immense and agreeable. He felt as if falling into some abyss, but he

felt that to fall was pleasant, and that he was happy. He thought at

that moment of weakness that a divinity was standing above him.

Meanwhile Glaucus had finished washing the wound in his head, and had

applied a healing ointment. Ursus took the brass basin from Lygia’s

hands; she brought a cup of water and wine which stood ready on the

table, and put it to the wounded man’s lips. Vinicius drank eagerly, and

felt great relief. After the operation the pain had almost passed; the

wound and contusion began to grow firm; perfect consciousness returned

to him.

“Give me another drink,” said he.

Lygia took the empty cup to the next room; meanwhile Crispus, after a

few words with Glaucus, approached the bed saying,--

“God has not permitted thee, Vinicius, to accomplish an evil deed, and

has preserved thee in life so that thou shouldst come to thy mind. He,

before whom man is but dust, delivered thee defenceless into our hands;

but Christ, in whom we believe, commanded us to love even our enemies.

Therefore we have dressed thy wounds, and, as Lygia has said, we will

implore God to restore thy health, but we cannot watch over thee longer.

Be in peace, then, and think whether it beseems thee to continue thy

pursuit of Lygia. Thou hast deprived her of guardians, and us of a roof,

though we return thee good for evil.”

“Do ye wish to leave me? inquired Vinicius.

“We wish to leave this house, in which prosecution by the prefect of

the city may reach us. Thy companion was killed; thou, who art powerful

among thy own people, art wounded. This did not happen through our

fault, but the anger of the law might fall on us.”

“Have no fear of prosecution,” replied Vinicius; “I will protect you.”

Crispus did not like to tell him that with them it was not only a

question of the prefect and the police, but of him; they wished to

secure Lygia from his further pursuit.

“Lord,” said he, “thy right arm is well. Here are tablets and a stilus;

write to thy servants to bring a litter this evening and bear thee to

thy own house, where thou wilt have more comfort than in our poverty.

We dwell here with a poor widow, who will return soon with her son,

and this youth will take thy letter; as to us, we must all find another

hiding-place.”

Vinicius grew pale, for he understood that they wished to separate him

from Lygia, and that if he lost her now he might never see her in life

again. He knew indeed that things of great import had come between him

and her, in virtue of which, if he wished to possess her, he must

seek some new methods which he had not had time yet to think over.

He understood too that whatever he might tell these people, though he

should swear that he would return Lygia to Pomponia Græcina, they would

not believe him, and were justified in refusing belief. Moreover, he

might have done that before. Instead of hunting for Lygia, he might have

gone to Pomponia and sworn to her that he renounced pursuit, and in that

case Pomponia herself would have found Lygia and brought her home. No;

he felt that such promises would not restrain them, and no solemn oath

would be received, the more since, not being a Christian, he could swear

only by the immortal gods, in whom he did not himself believe greatly,

and whom they considered evil spirits.

He desired desperately to influence Lygia and her guardians in some way,

but for that there was need of time. For him it was all-important to see

her, to look at her for a few days even. As every fragment of a plank

or an oar seems salvation to a drowning man, so to him it seemed that

during those few days he might say something to bring him nearer to

her, that he might think out something, that something favorable might

happen. Hence he collected his thoughts and said,--

“Listen to me, Christians. Yesterday I was with you in Ostrianum, and

I heard your teaching; but though I did not know it, your deeds have

convinced me that you are honest and good people. Tell that widow who

occupies this house to stay in it, stay in it yourselves, and let me

stay. Let this man [here he turned to Glaucus], who is a physician, or

at least understands the care of wounds, tell whether it is possible to

carry me from here to-day. I am sick, I have a broken arm, which must

remain immovable for a few days even; therefore I declare to you that I

will not leave this house unless you bear me hence by force!”

Here he stopped, for breath failed in his breast, and Crispus said,--“We

will use no force against thee, lord; we will only take away our own

heads.”

At this the young man, unused to resistance, frowned and said,--“Permit

me to recover breath”; and after a time he began again to speak,--“Of

Croton, whom Ursus killed, no one will inquire. He had to go to-day

to Beneventum, whither he was summoned by Vatinius, therefore all will

think that he has gone there. When I entered this house in company with

Croton, no one saw us except a Greek who was with us in Ostrianum. I

will indicate to you his lodgings; bring that man to me. On him I will

enjoin silence; he is paid by me. I will send a letter to my own house

stating that I too went to Beneventum. If the Greek has informed the

prefect already, I will declare that I myself killed Croton, and that it

was he who broke my arm. I will do this, by my father’s shade and by my

mother’s! Ye may remain in safety here; not a hair will fall from the

head of one of you. Bring hither, and bring in haste, the Greek whose

name is Chilo Chilonides!”

“Then Glaucus will remain with thee,” said Crispus, “and the widow will

nurse thee.”

“Consider, old man, what I say,” said Vinicius, who frowned still more.

“I owe thee gratitude, and thou seemest good and honest; but thou dost

not tell me what thou hast in the bottom of thy soul. Thou art afraid

lest I summon my slaves and command them to take Lygia. Is this true?”

“It is,” said Crispus, with sternness.

“Then remember this, I shall speak before all to Chilo, and write a

letter home that I have gone to Beneventum. I shall have no messengers

hereafter but you. Remember this, and do not irritate me longer.”

Here he was indignant, and his face was contorted with anger. Afterward

he began to speak excitedly,--

“Hast thou thought that I would deny that I wish to stay here to see

her? A fool would have divined that, even had I denied it. But I will

not try to take her by force any longer. I will tell thee more: if she

will not stay here, I will tear the bandages with this sound hand from

my arm, will take neither food nor drink; let my death fall on thee and

thy brethren. Why hast thou nursed me? Why hast thou not commanded to

kill me?” He grew pale from weakness and anger.

Lygia, who had heard all from the other room and who was certain that

Vinicius would do what he promised, was terrified. She would not

have him die for anything. Wounded and defenceless, he roused in her

compassion, not fear. Living from the time of her flight among people in

continual religious enthusiasm, thinking only of sacrifices, offerings,

and boundless charity, she had grown so excited herself through that

new inspiration, that for her it took the place of house, family, lost

happiness, and made her one of those Christian maidens who, later on,

changed the former soul of the world. Vinicius had been too important

in her fate, had been thrust too much on her, to let her forget him. She

had thought of him whole days, and more than once had begged God for the

moment in which, following the inspiration of religion, she might return

good for his evil, mercy for his persecution, break him, win him to

Christ, save him. And now it seemed to her that precisely that moment

had come, and that her prayers had been heard.

She approached Crispus therefore with a face as if inspired, and

addressed him as though some other voice spoke through her,--“Let him

stay among us, Crispus, and we will stay with him till Christ gives him

health.”

The old presbyter, accustomed to seek in all things the inspiration of

God, beholding her exaltation, thought at once that perhaps a higher

power was speaking through her, and, fearing in his heart, he bent his

gray head, saying,--“Let it be as thou sayest.”

On Vinicius, who the whole time had not taken his eyes from her,

this ready obedience of Crispus produced a wonderful and pervading

impression. It seemed to him that among the Christians Lygia was a kind

of sibyl or priestess whom they surrounded with obedience and honor;

and he yielded himself also to that honor. To the love which he felt

was joined now a certain awe, in presence of which love itself became

something almost insolent. He could not familiarize himself, however,

with the thought that their relations had changed: that now not she was

dependent on his will, but he on hers; that he was lying there sick and

broken; that he had ceased to be an attacking, a conquering force;

that he was like a defenceless child in her care. For his proud and

commanding nature such relations with any other person would have been

humiliating; now, however, not only did he not feel humiliated, but

he was thankful to her as to his sovereign. In him those were feelings

unheard-of, feelings which he could not have entertained the day before,

and which would have amazed him even on that day had he been able to

analyze them clearly. But he did not inquire at the moment why it was

so, just as if the position had been perfectly natural; he merely felt

happy because he remained there.

And he wished to thank her with gratefulness, and still with a kind of

feeling unknown to him in such a degree that he knew not what to

call it, for it was simply submission. His previous excitement had so

exhausted him that he could not speak, and he thanked her only with his

eyes, which were gleaming from delight because he remained near her, and

would be able to see her--to-morrow, next day, perhaps a long time. That

delight was diminished only by the dread that he might lose what he had

gained. So great was this dread that when Lygia gave him water a second

time, and the wish seized him to take her hand, he feared to do so. He

feared!--he, that Vinicius who at Cæsar’s feast had kissed her lips

in spite of her! he, that Vinicius who after her flight had promised

himself to drag her by the hair to the cubiculum, or give command to

flog her!