colonnade, suddenly encountered Arbaces.
'Ho! Calenus--seekest thou me?' said the Egyptian; and there was a
little embarrassment in his voice.
'Yes, wise Arbaces--I trust my visit is not unseasonable?'
'Nay--it was but this instant that my freedman Callias sneezed thrice at
my right hand; I knew, therefore, some good fortune was in store for
me--and, lo! the gods have sent me Calenus.'
'Shall we within to your chamber, Arbaces?'
'As you will; but the night is clear and balmy--I have some remains of
languor yet lingering on me from my recent illness--the air refreshes
me--let us walk in the garden--we are equally alone there.'
'With all my heart,' answered the priest; and the two friends passed
slowly to one of the many terraces which, bordered by marble vases and
sleeping flowers, intersected the garden.
'It is a lovely night,' said Arbaces--'blue and beautiful as that on
which, twenty years ago, the shores of Italy first broke upon my view.
My Calenus, age creeps upon us--let us, at least, feel that we have
lived.'
'Thou, at least, mayst arrogate that boast,' said Calenus, beating
about, as it were, for an opportunity to communicate the secret which
weighed upon him, and feeling his usual awe of Arbaces still more
impressively that night, from the quiet and friendly tone of dignified
condescension which the Egyptian assumed--'Thou, at least, mayst
arrogate that boast. Thou hast had countless wealth--a frame on whose
close-woven fibres disease can find no space to enter--prosperous
love--inexhaustible pleasure--and, even at this hour, triumphant
revenge.'
'Thou alludest to the Athenian. Ay, to-morrow's sun the fiat of his
death will go forth. The senate does not relent. But thou mistakest:
his death gives me no other gratification than that it releases me from
a rival in the affections of Ione. I entertain no other sentiment of
animosity against that unfortunate homicide.'
'Homicide!' repeated Calenus, slowly and meaningly; and, halting as he
spoke, he fixed his eyes upon Arbaces. The stars shone pale and
steadily on the proud face of their prophet, but they betrayed there no
change: the eyes of Calenus fell disappointed and abashed. He continued
rapidly--'Homicide! it is well to charge him with that crime; but thou,
of all men, knowest that he is innocent.'
'Explain thyself,' said Arbaces, coldly; for he had prepared himself for
the hint his secret fears had foretold.
'Arbaces,' answered Calenus, sinking his voice into a whisper, 'I was in
the sacred grove, sheltered by the chapel and the surrounding foliage.
I overheard--I marked the whole. I saw thy weapon pierce the heart of
Apaecides. I blame not the deed--it destroyed a foe and an apostate.'
'Thou sawest the whole!' said Arbaces, dryly; 'so I imagined--thou wert
alone.'
'Alone!' returned Calenus, surprised at the Egyptian's calmness.
'And wherefore wert thou hid behind the chapel at that hour?'
'Because I had learned the conversion of Apaecides to the Christian
faith--because I knew that on that spot he was to meet the fierce
Olinthus--because they were to meet there to discuss plans for unveiling
the sacred mysteries of our goddess to the people--and I was there to
detect, in order to defeat them.'
'Hast thou told living ear what thou didst witness?'
'No, my master: the secret is locked in thy servant's breast.'
'What! even thy kinsman Burbo guesses it not! Come, the truth!'
'By the gods...'
'Hush! we know each other--what are the gods to us?'
'By the fear of thy vengeance, then--no!'
'And why hast thou hitherto concealed from me this secret? Why hast
thou waited till the eve of the Athenian's condemnation before thou hast
ventured to tell me that Arbaces is a murderer? And having tarried so
long, why revealest thou now that knowledge?'
'Because--because...' stammered Calenus, coloring and in confusion.
'Because,' interrupted Arbaces, with a gentle smile, and tapping the
priest on the shoulder with a kindly and familiar gesture--'because,
my Calenus (see now, I will read thy heart, and explain its
motives)--because thou didst wish thoroughly to commit and entangle me
in the trial, so that I might have no loophole of escape; that I might
stand firmly pledged to perjury and to malice, as well as to homicide;
that having myself whetted the appetite of the populace to blood, no
wealth, no power, could prevent my becoming their victim: and thou
tellest me thy secret now, ere the trial be over and the innocent
condemned, to show what a desperate web of villainy thy word to-morrow
could destroy; to enhance in this, the ninth hour, the price of thy
forbearance; to show that my own arts, in arousing the popular wrath,
would, at thy witness, recoil upon myself; and that if not for Glaucus,
for me would gape the jaws of the lion! Is it not so?'
'Arbaces, replied Calenus, losing all the vulgar audacity of his natural
character, 'verily thou art a Magician; thou readest the heart as it
were a scroll.'
'It is my vocation,' answered the Egyptian, laughing gently. 'Well,
then, forbear; and when all is over, I will make thee rich.'
'Pardon me,' said the priest, as the quick suggestion of that avarice,
which was his master-passion, bade him trust no future chance of
generosity; 'pardon me; thou saidst right--we know each other. If thou
wouldst have me silent, thou must pay something in advance, as an offer
to Harpocrates.' If the rose, sweet emblem of discretion, is to take
root firmly, water her this night with a stream of gold.'
'Witty and poetical!' answered Arbaces, still in that bland voice which
lulled and encouraged, when it ought to have alarmed and checked, his
griping comrade. 'Wilt thou not wait the morrow?'
'Why this delay? Perhaps, when I can no longer give my testimony
without shame for not having given it ere the innocent man suffered,
thou wilt forget my claim; and, indeed, thy present hesitation is a bad
omen of thy future gratitude.'
'Well, then, Calenus, what wouldst thou have me pay thee?'
'Thy life is, very precious, and thy wealth is very great,' returned the
priest, grinning.
'Wittier and more witty. But speak out--what shall be the sum?'
'Arbaces, I have heard that in thy secret treasury below, beneath those
rude Oscan arches which prop thy stately halls, thou hast piles of gold,
of vases, and of jewels, which might rival the receptacles of the wealth
of the deified Nero. Thou mayst easily spare out of those piles enough
to make Calenus among the richest priests of Pompeii, and yet not miss
the loss.'
'Come, Calenus,' said Arbaces, winningly, and with a frank and generous
air, 'thou art an old friend, and hast been a faithful servant. Thou
canst have no wish to take away my life, nor I a desire to stint thy
reward: thou shalt descend with me to that treasury thou referrest to,
thou shalt feast thine eyes with the blaze of uncounted gold and the
sparkle of priceless gems; and thou shalt for thy own reward, bear away
with thee this night as much as thou canst conceal beneath thy robes.
Nay, when thou hast once seen what thy friend possesses, thou wilt learn
how foolish it would be to injure one who has so much to bestow. When
Glaucus is no more, thou shalt pay the treasury another visit. Speak I
frankly and as a friend?'
'Oh, greatest, best of men!' cried Calenus, almost weeping with joy,
'canst thou thus forgive my injurious doubts of thy justice, thy
generosity?'
'Hush! one other turn and we will descend to the Oscan arches.'
Chapter XIII
THE SLAVE CONSULTS THE ORACLE. THEY WHO BLIND THEMSELVES THE BLIND MAY
FOOL. TWO NEW PRISONERS MADE IN ONE NIGHT.
IMPATIENTLY Nydia awaited the arrival of the no less anxious Sosia.
Fortifying his courage by plentiful potations of a better liquor than
that provided for the demon, the credulous ministrant stole into the
blind girl's chamber.
'Well, Sosia, and art thou prepared? Hast thou the bowl of pure water?'
'Verily, yes: but I tremble a little. You are sure I shall not see the
demon? I have heard that those gentlemen are by no means of a handsome
person or a civil demeanor.'
'Be assured! And hast thou left the garden-gate gently open?'
'Yes; and placed some beautiful nuts and apples on a little table close
by?'
'That's well. And the gate is open now, so that the demon may pass
through it?'
'Surely it is.'
'Well, then, open this door; there--leave it just ajar. And now, Sosia,
give me the lamp.'
'What, you will not extinguish it?'
'No; but I must breathe my spell over its ray. There is a spirit in
fire. Seat thyself.'
The slave obeyed; and Nydia, after bending for some moments silently
over the lamp, rose, and in a low voice chanted the following rude:--
INVOCATION TO THE SPECTRE OF THE AIR
Loved alike by Air and Water
Aye must be Thessalia's daughter;
To us, Olympian hearts, are given
Spells that draw the moon from heaven.
All that Egypt's learning wrought--
All that Persia's Magian taught--
Won from song, or wrung from flowers,
Or whisper'd low by fiend--are ours.
Spectre of the viewless air!
Hear the blind Thessalian's prayer!
By Erictho's art, that shed
Dews of life when life was fled--
By lone Ithaca's wise king,
Who could wake the crystal spring
To the voice of prophecy?
By the lost Eurydice,
Summon'd from the shadowy throng,
As the muse-son's magic song--
By the Colchian's awful charms,
When fair-haired Jason left her arms--
Spectre of the airy halls,
One who owns thee duly calls!
Breathe along the brimming bowl,
And instruct the fearful soul
In the shadowy things that lie
Dark in dim futurity.
Come, wild demon of the air,
Answer to thy votary's prayer!
Come! oh, come!
And no god on heaven or earth--
Not the Paphian Queen of Mirth,
Not the vivid Lord of Light,
Nor the triple Maid of Night,
Nor the Thunderer's self shall be
Blest and honour'd more than thee!
Come! oh, come!
'The spectre is certainly coming,' said Sosia. 'I feel him running
along my hair!'
'Place thy bowl of water on the ground. Now, then, give me thy napkin,
and let me fold up thy face and eyes.'
'Ay! that's always the custom with these charms. Not so tight, though:
gently--gently!'
'There--thou canst not see?'
'See, by Jupiter! No! nothing but darkness.'
'Address, then, to the spectre whatever question thou wouldst ask him,
in a low-whispered voice, three times. If thy question is answered in
the affirmative, thou wilt hear the water ferment and bubble before the
demon breathes upon it; if in the negative, the water will be quite
silent.'
'But you will not play any trick with the water, eh?'
'Let me place the bowl under thy feet--so. Now thou wilt perceive that
I cannot touch it without thy knowledge.'
'Very fair. Now, then, O Bacchus! befriend me. Thou knowest that I
have always loved thee better than all the other gods, and I will
dedicate to thee that silver cup I stole last year from the burly
carptor (butler), if thou wilt but befriend me with this water-loving
demon. And thou, O Spirit! listen and hear me. Shall I be enabled to
purchase my freedom next year? Thou knowest; for, as thou livest in the
air, the birds have doubtless acquainted thee with every secret of this
house,--thou knowest that I have filched and pilfered all that I
honestly--that is, safely--could lay finger upon for the last three
years, and I yet want two thousand sesterces of the full sum. Shall I
be able, O good Spirit! to make up the deficiency in the course of this
year? Speak--Ha! does the water bubble? No; all is as still as a
tomb.--Well, then, if not this year, in two years?--Ah! I hear
something; the demon is scratching at the door; he'll be here
presently.--In two years, my good fellow: come now, two; that's a very
reasonable time. What! dumb still! Two years and a half--three--four?
ill fortune to you, friend demon! You are not a lady, that's clear, or
you would not keep silence so long. Five--six--sixty years? and may
Pluto seize you! I'll ask no more.' And Sosia, in a rage, kicked down
the water over his legs. He then, after much fumbling and more cursing,
managed to extricate his head from the napkin in which it was completely
folded--stared round--and discovered that he was in the dark.
'What, ho! Nydia; the lamp is gone. Ah, traitress; and thou art gone
too; but I'll catch thee--thou shalt smart for this!' The slave groped
his way to the door; it was bolted from without: he was a prisoner
instead of Nydia. What could he do? He did not dare to knock loud--to
call out--lest Arbaces should overhear him, and discover how he had been
duped; and Nydia, meanwhile, had probably already gained the
garden-gate, and was fast on her escape.
'But,' thought he, 'she will go home, or, at least, be somewhere in the
city. To-morrow, at dawn, when the slaves are at work in the peristyle,
I can make myself heard; then I can go forth and seek her. I shall be
sure to find and bring her back, before Arbaces knows a word of the
