tenderness and his passion, assisted by all the arts with which he well
knew how to dazzle woman's imagination, might elect him to that throne
in her heart from which his rival would be so awfully expelled. This
was his hope: but should it fail, his unholy and fervid passion
whispered, 'At the worst, now she is in my power.'
Yet, withal, he felt that uneasiness and apprehension which attended
upon the chance of detection, even when the criminal is insensible to
the voice of conscience--that vague terror of the consequences of crime,
which is often mistaken for remorse at the crime itself. The buoyant
air of Campania weighed heavily upon his breast; he longed to hurry from
a scene where danger might not sleep eternally with the dead; and,
having Ione now in his possession, he secretly resolved, as soon as he
had witnessed the last agony of his rival, to transport his wealth--and
her, the costliest treasure of all, to some distant shore.
'Yes,' said he, striding to and fro his solitary chamber--'yes, the law
that gave me the person of my ward gives me the possession of my bride.
Far across the broad main will we sweep on our search after novel
luxuries and inexperienced pleasures. Cheered by my stars, supported by
the omens of my soul, we will penetrate to those vast and glorious
worlds which my wisdom tells me lie yet untracked in the recesses of the
circling sea. There may this heart, possessed of love, grow once more
alive to ambition--there, amongst nations uncrushed by the Roman yoke,
and to whose ear the name of Rome has not yet been wafted, I may found
an empire, and transplant my ancestral creed; renewing the ashes of the
dead Theban rule; continuing in yet grander shores the dynasty of my
crowned fathers, and waking in the noble heart of Ione the grateful
consciousness that she shares the lot of one who, far from the aged
rottenness of this slavish civilization, restores the primal elements of
greatness, and unites in one mighty soul the attributes of the prophet
and the king.' From this exultant soliloquy, Arbaces was awakened to
attend the trial of the Athenian.
The worn and pallid cheek of his victim touched him less than the
firmness of his nerves and the dauntlessness of his brow; for Arbaces
was one who had little pity for what was unfortunate, but a strong
sympathy for what was bold. The congenialities that bind us to others
ever assimilate to the qualities of our own nature. The hero weeps less
at the reverses of his enemy than at the fortitude with which he bears
them. All of us are human, and Arbaces, criminal as he was, had his
share of our common feelings and our mother clay. Had he but obtained
from Glaucus the written confession of his crime, which would, better
than even the judgment of others, have lost him with Ione, and removed
from Arbaces the chance of future detection, the Egyptian would have
strained every nerve to save his rival. Even now his hatred was
over--his desire of revenge was slaked: he crushed his prey, not in
enmity, but as an obstacle in his path. Yet was he not the less
resolved, the less crafty and persevering, in the course he pursued, for
the destruction of one whose doom was become necessary to the attainment
of his objects: and while, with apparent reluctance and compassion, he
gave against Glaucus the evidence which condemned him, he secretly, and
through the medium of the priesthood, fomented that popular indignation
which made an effectual obstacle to the pity of the senate. He had
sought Julia; he had detailed to her the confession of Nydia; he had
easily, therefore, lulled any scruple of conscience which might have led
her to extenuate the offence of Glaucus by avowing her share in his
frenzy: and the more readily, for her vain heart had loved the fame and
the prosperity of Glaucus--not Glaucus himself, she felt no affection
for a disgraced man--nay, she almost rejoiced in the disgrace that
humbled the hated Ione. If Glaucus could not be her slave, neither
could he be the adorer of her rival. This was sufficient consolation
for any regret at his fate. Volatile and fickle, she began again to be
moved by the sudden and earnest suit of Clodius, and was not willing to
hazard the loss of an alliance with that base but high-born noble by any
public exposure of her past weakness and immodest passion for another.
All things then smiled upon Arbaces--all things frowned upon the
Athenian.
Chapter XI
NYDIA AFFECTS THE SORCERESS.
WHEN the Thessalian found that Arbaces returned to her no more--when she
was left, hour after hour, to all the torture of that miserable suspense
which was rendered by blindness doubly intolerable, she began, with
outstretched arms, to feel around her prison for some channel of escape;
and finding the only entrance secure, she called aloud, and with the
vehemence of a temper naturally violent, and now sharpened by impatient
agony.
'Ho, girl!' said the slave in attendance, opening the door; art thou bit
by a scorpion? or thinkest thou that we are dying of silence here, and
only to be preserved, like the infant Jupiter, by a hullabaloo?'
'Where is thy master? and wherefore am I caged here? I want air and
liberty: let me go forth!'
'Alas! little one, hast thou not seen enough of Arbaces to know that his
will is imperial! He hath ordered thee to be caged; and caged thou art,
and I am thy keeper. Thou canst not have air and liberty; but thou
mayst have what are much better things--food and wine.'
'Proh Jupiter!' cried the girl, wringing her hands; 'and why am I thus
imprisoned? What can the great Arbaces want with so poor a thing as I
am?'
'That I know not, unless it be to attend on thy new mistress, who has
been brought hither this day.'
'What! Ione here?'
'Yes, poor lady; she liked it little, I fear. Yet, by the Temple of
Castor! Arbaces is a gallant man to the women. Thy lady is his ward,
thou knowest.'
'Wilt thou take me to her?'
'She is ill--frantic with rage and spite. Besides, I have no orders to
do so; and I never think for myself. When Arbaces made me slave of
these chambers, he said, "I have but one lesson to give thee--while thou
servest me, thou must have neither ears, eyes, nor thought; thou must be
but one quality--obedience."'
'But what harm is there in seeing Ione?'
'That I know not; but if thou wantest a companion, I am willing to talk
to thee, little one, for I am solitary enough in my dull cubiculum.
And, by the way, thou art Thessalian--knowest thou not some cunning
amusement of knife and shears, some pretty trick of telling fortunes, as
most of thy race do, in order to pass the time.'
'Tush, slave, hold thy peace! or, if thou wilt speak, what hast thou
heard of the state of Glaucus?'
'Why, my master has gone to the Athenian's trial; Glaucus will smart for
it!'
'For what?'
'The murder of the priest Apaecides.'
'Ha!' said Nydia, pressing her hands to her forehead; 'something of this
I have indeed heard, but understand not. Yet, who will dare to touch a
hair of his head?'
'That will the lion, I fear.'
'Averting gods! what wickedness dost thou utter?'
'Why, only that, if he be found guilty, the lion, or may be the tiger,
will be his executioner.'
Nydia leaped up, as if an arrow had entered her heart; she uttered a
piercing scream; then, falling before the feet of the slave, she cried,
in a tone that melted even his rude heart:
'Ah! tell me thou jestest--thou utterest not the truth--speak, speak!'
'Why, by my faith, blind girl, I know nothing of the law; it may not be
so bad as I say. But Arbaces is his accuser, and the people desire a
victim for the arena. Cheer thee! But what hath the fate of the
Athenian to do with thine?'
'No matter, no matter--he has been kind to me: thou knowest not, then,
what they will do? Arbaces his accuser! O fate! The people--the
people! Ah! they can look upon his face--who will be cruel to the
Athenian!--Yet was not Love itself cruel to him?'
So saying, her head drooped upon her bosom: she sunk into silence;
scalding tears flowed down her cheeks; and all the kindly efforts of the
slave were unable either to console her or distract the absorption of
her reverie.
When his household cares obliged the ministrant to leave her room, Nydia
began to re-collect her thoughts. Arbaces was the accuser of Glaucus;
Arbaces had imprisoned her here; was not that a proof that her liberty
might be serviceable to Glaucus? Yes, she was evidently inveigled into
some snare; she was contributing to the destruction of her beloved! Oh,
how she panted for release! Fortunately, for her sufferings, all sense
of pain became merged in the desire of escape; and as she began to
revolve the possibility of deliverance, she grew calm and thoughtful.
She possessed much of the craft of her sex, and it had been increased in
her breast by her early servitude. What slave was ever destitute of
cunning? She resolved to practise upon her keeper; and calling suddenly
to mind his superstitious query as to her Thessalian art, she hoped by
that handle to work out some method of release. These doubts occupied
her mind during the rest of the day and the long hours of night; and,
accordingly, when Sosia visited her the following morning, she hastened
to divert his garrulity into that channel in which it had before evinced
a natural disposition to flow.
She was aware, however, that her only chance of escape was at night; and
accordingly she was obliged with a bitter pang at the delay to defer
till then her purposed attempt.
'The night,' said she, 'is the sole time in which we can well decipher
the decrees of Fate--then it is thou must seek me. But what desirest
thou to learn?'
'By Pollux! I should like to know as much as my master; but that is not
to be expected. Let me know, at least, whether I shall save enough to
purchase my freedom, or whether this Egyptian will give it me for
nothing. He does such generous things sometimes. Next, supposing that
be true, shall I possess myself of that snug taberna among the
Myropolia, which I have long had in my eye? 'Tis a genteel trade that
of a perfumer, and suits a retired slave who has something of a
gentleman about him!'
'Ay! so you would have precise answers to those questions?--there are
various ways of satisfying you. There is the Lithomanteia, or
Speaking-stone, which answers your prayer with an infant's voice; but,
then, we have not that precious stone with us--costly is it and rare.
Then there is the Gastromanteia, whereby the demon casts pale and deadly
images upon the water, prophetic of the future. But this art requires
also glasses of a peculiar fashion, to contain the consecrated liquid,
which we have not. I think, therefore, that the simplest method of
satisfying your desire would be by the Magic of Air.'
'I trust,' said Sosia, tremulously, 'that there is nothing very
frightful in the operation? I have no love for apparitions.'
'Fear not; thou wilt see nothing; thou wilt only hear by the bubbling of
water whether or not thy suit prospers. First, then, be sure, from the
rising of the evening star, that thou leavest the garden-gate somewhat
open, so that the demon may feel himself invited to enter therein; and
place fruits and water near the gate as a sign of hospitality; then,
three hours after twilight, come here with a bowl of the coldest and
purest water, and thou shalt learn all, according to the Thessalian lore
my mother taught me. But forget not the garden-gate--all rests upon
that: it must be open when you come, and for three hours previously.'
'Trust me,' replied the unsuspecting Sosia; 'I know what a gentleman's
feelings are when a door is shut in his face, as the cookshop's hath
been in mine many a day; and I know, also, that a person of
respectability, as a demon of course is, cannot but be pleased, on the
other hand, with any little mark of courteous hospitality. Meanwhile,
pretty one, here is thy morning's meal.'
'But what of the trial?'
'Oh, the lawyers are still at it--talk, talk--it will last over all
to-morrow.'
'To-morrow? You are sure of that?'
'So I hear.'
'And Ione?'
'By Bacchus! she must be tolerably well, for she was strong enough to
make my master stamp and bite his lip this morning. I saw him quit her
apartment with a brow like a thunderstorm.'
'Lodges she near this?'
'No--in the upper apartments. But I must not stay prating here longer.
Vale!'
Chapter XII
A WASP VENTURES INTO THE SPIDER'S WEB.
THE second night of the trial had set in; and it was nearly the time in
which Sosia was to brave the dread Unknown, when there entered, at that
very garden-gate which the slave had left ajar--not, indeed, one of the
mysterious spirits of earth or air, but the heavy and most human form of
Calenus, the priest of Isis. He scarcely noted the humble offerings of
indifferent fruit, and still more indifferent wine, which the pious
Sosia had deemed good enough for the invisible stranger they were
intended to allure. 'Some tribute,' thought he, 'to the garden god. By
my father's head! if his deityship were never better served, he would do
well to give up the godly profession. Ah! were it not for us priests,
the gods would have a sad time of it. And now for Arbaces--I am
treading a quicksand, but it ought to cover a mine. I have the
Egyptian's life in my power--what will he value it at?'
As he thus soliloquised, he crossed through the open court into the
peristyle, where a few lamps here and there broke upon the empire of the
starlit night; and issuing from one of the chambers that bordered the
