Chapter LXVII

PETRONIUS, after the liberation of Lygia, not wishing to irritate Cæsar,

went to the Palatine with other Augustians. He wanted to hear what

they were saying, and especially to learn if Tigellinus was devising

something new to destroy Lygia. Both she and Ursus had passed under the

protection of the people, it is true, and no one could place a hand on

them without raising a riot; still Petronius, knowing the hatred toward

him of the all-powerful pretorian prefect, considered that very likely

Tigellinus, while unable to strike him directly, would strive to find

some means of revenge against his nephew.

Nero was angry and irritated, since the spectacle had ended quite

differently from what he had planned. At first he did not wish even to

look at Petronius; but the latter, without losing cool blood, approached

him, with all the freedom of the “arbiter elegantiarum,” and said,--

“Dost thou know, divinity, what occurs to me? Write a poem on the maiden

who, at command of the lord of the world, was freed from the horns of

the wild bull and given to her lover. The Greeks are sensitive, and I am

sure that the poem will enchant them.”

This thought pleased Nero in spite of all his irritation, and it pleased

him doubly, first, as a subject for a poem, and second, because in it

he could glorify himself as the magnanimous lord of the earth; hence he

looked for a time at Petronius, and then said,--

“Yes! perhaps thou art right. But does it become me to celebrate my own

goodness?”

“There is no need to give names. In Rome all will know who is meant, and

from Rome reports go through the whole world.”

“But art thou sure that this will please the people in Achæa?”

“By Poilux, it will!” said Petronius.

And he went away satisfied, for he felt certain that Nero, whose whole

life was an arrangement of reality to literary plans, would not spoil

the subject, and by this alone he would tie the hands of Tigellinus.

This, however, did not change his plan of sending Vinicius out of Rome

as soon as Lygia’s health should permit. So when he saw him next day, he

said,--

“Take her to Sicily. As things have happened, on Cæsar’s part thou art

threatened by nothing; but Tigellinus is ready to use even poison,--if

not out of hatred to you both, out of hatred to me.”

Vinicius smiled at him, and said: “She was on the horns of the wild

bull; still Christ saved her.”

“Then honor Him with a hecatomb,” replied Petronius, with an accent of

impatience, “but do not beg Him to save her a second time. Dost remember

how Eolus received Ulysses when he returned to ask a second time for

favoring winds? Deities do not like to repeat themselves.”

“When her health returns, I will take her to Pomponia Græcina,” said

Vinicius.

“And thou wilt do that all the better since Pomponia is ill; Antistius,

a relative of Aulus, told me so. Meanwhile things will happen here

to make people forget thee, and in these times the forgotten are the

happiest. May Fortune be thy sun in winter, and thy shade in summer.”

Then he left Vinicius to his happiness, but went himself to inquire of

Theocles touching the life and health of Lygia.

Danger threatened her no longer. Emaciated as she was in the dungeon

after prison fever, foul air and discomfort would have killed her; but

now she had the most tender care, and not only plenty, but luxury. At

command of Theocles they took her to the gardens of the villa after

two days; in these gardens she remained for hours. Vinicius decked her

litter with anemones, and especially with irises, to remind her of the

atrium of the house of Aulus. More than once, hidden in the shade of

spreading trees, they spoke of past sufferings and fears, each holding

the other’s hand. Lygia said that Christ had conducted him through

suffering purposely to change his soul and raise it to Himself. Vinicius

felt that this was true, and that there was in him nothing of the former

patrician, who knew no law but his own desire. In those memories there

was nothing bitter, however. It seemed to both that whole years had gone

over their heads, and that the dreadful past lay far behind. At the same

time such a calmness possessed them as they had never known before. A

new life of immense happiness had come and taken them into itself. In

Rome Cæsar might rage and fill the world with terror--they felt above

them a guardianship a hundred times mightier than his power, and had

no further fear of his rage or his malice, just as if for them he had

ceased to be the lord of life or death. Once, about sunset, the roar of

lions and other beasts reached them from distant vivaria. Formerly those

sounds filled Vinicius with fear because they were ominous; now he and

Lygia merely looked at each other and raised their eyes to the evening

twilight. At times Lygia, still very weak and unable to walk alone, fell

asleep in the quiet of the garden; he watched over her, and, looking

at her sleeping face, thought involuntarily that she was not that Lygia

whom he had met at the house of Aulus. In fact, imprisonment and disease

had to some extent quenched her beauty. When he saw her at the house of

Aulus, and later, when he went to Miriam’s house to seize her, she was

as wonderful as a statue and also as a flower; now her face had become

almost transparent, her hands thin, her body reduced by disease,

her lips pale, and even her eyes seemed less blue than formerly. The

golden-haired Eunice who brought her flowers and rich stuffs to cover

her feet was a divinity of Cyprus in comparison. Petronius tried in vain

to find the former charms in her, and, shrugging his shoulders, thought

that that shadow from Elysian fields was not worth those struggles,

those pains, and those tortures which had almost sucked the life out of

Vinicius. But Vinicius, in love now with her spirit, loved it all the

more; and when he was watching over her while asleep, it seemed to him

that he was watching over the whole world.