not.'
'Yet it seemeth to me as if, in the divine anger, I had been smitten by
a sudden madness, a supernatural and solemn frenzy, wrought not by human
means.'
'There are demons on earth,' answered the Nazarene, fearfully, 'as well
as there are God and His Son in heaven; and since thou acknowledgest not
the last, the first may have had power over thee.'
Glaucus did not reply, and there was a silence for some minutes. At
length the Athenian said, in a changed, and soft, and half-hesitating
voice. 'Christian, believest thou, among the doctrines of thy creed,
that the dead live again--that they who have loved here are united
hereafter--that beyond the grave our good name shines pure from the
mortal mists that unjustly dim it in the gross-eyed world--and that the
streams which are divided by the desert and the rock meet in the solemn
Hades, and flow once more into one?'
'Believe I that, O Athenian No, I do not believe--I know! and it is that
beautiful and blessed assurance which supports me now. O Cyllene!'
continued Olinthus, passionately, 'bride of my heart! torn from me in
the first month of our nuptials,' shall I not see thee yet, and ere many
days be past? Welcome, welcome death, that will bring me to heaven and
thee!'
There was something in this sudden burst of human affection which struck
a kindred chord in the soul of the Greek. He felt, for the first time,
a sympathy greater than mere affliction between him and his companion.
He crept nearer towards Olinthus; for the Italians, fierce in some
points, were not unnecessarily cruel in others; they spared the separate
cell and the superfluous chain, and allowed the victims of the arena the
sad comfort of such freedom and such companionship as the prison would
afford.
'Yes,' continued the Christian, with holy fervor, 'the immortality of
the soul--the resurrection--the reunion of the dead--is the great
principle of our creed--the great truth a God suffered death itself to
attest and proclaim. No fabled Elysium--no poetic Orcus--but a pure and
radiant heritage of heaven itself, is the portion of the good.'
'Tell me, then, thy doctrines, and expound to me thy hopes,' said
Glaucus, earnestly.
Olinthus was not slow to obey that prayer; and there--as oftentimes in
the early ages of the Christian creed--it was in the darkness of the
dungeon, and over the approach of death, that the dawning Gospel shed
its soft and consecrating rays.
Chapter XVII
A CHANCE FOR GLAUCUS.
THE hours passed in lingering torture over the head of Nydia from the
time in which she had been replaced in her cell.
Sosia, as if afraid he should be again outwitted, had refrained from
visiting her until late in the morning of the following day, and then he
but thrust in the periodical basket of food and wine, and hastily
reclosed the door. That day rolled on, and Nydia felt herself
pent--barred--inexorably confined, when that day was the judgment-day of
Glaucus, and when her release would have saved him! Yet knowing, almost
impossible as seemed her escape, that the sole chance for the life of
Glaucus rested on her, this young girl, frail, passionate, and acutely
susceptible as she was--resolved not to give way to a despair that would
disable her from seizing whatever opportunity might occur. She kept her
senses whenever, beneath the whirl of intolerable thought, they reeled
and tottered; nay, she took food and wine that she might sustain her
strength--that she might be prepared!
She revolved scheme after scheme of escape, and was forced to dismiss
all. Yet Sosia was her only hope, the only instrument with which she
could tamper. He had been superstitious in the desire of ascertaining
whether he could eventually purchase his freedom. Blessed gods! might
he not be won by the bribe of freedom itself? was she not nearly rich
enough to purchase it? Her slender arms were covered with bracelets, the
presents of Ione; and on her neck she yet wore that very chain which, it
may be remembered, had occasioned her jealous quarrel with Glaucus, and
which she had afterwards promised vainly to wear for ever. She waited
burningly till Sosia should again appear: but as hour after hour passed,
and he came not, she grew impatient. Every nerve beat with fever; she
could endure the solitude no longer--she groaned, she shrieked
aloud--she beat herself against the door. Her cries echoed along the
hall, and Sosia, in peevish anger, hastened to see what was the matter,
and silence his prisoner if possible.
'Ho! ho! what is this?' said he, surlily. 'Young slave, if thou
screamest out thus, we must gag thee again. My shoulders will smart for
it, if thou art heard by my master.'
'Kind Sosia, chide me not--I cannot endure to be so long alone,'
answered Nydia; 'the solitude appals me. Sit with me, I pray, a little
while. Nay, fear not that I should attempt to escape; place thy seat
before the door. Keep thine eye on me--I will not stir from this spot.'
Sosia, who was a considerable gossip himself, was moved by this address.
He pitied one who had nobody to talk with--it was his case too; he
pitied--and resolved to relieve himself. He took the hint of Nydia,
placed a stool before the door, leant his back against it, and replied:
'I am sure I do not wish to be churlish; and so far as a little innocent
chat goes, I have no objection to indulge you. But mind, no tricks--no
more conjuring!'
'No, no; tell me, dear Sosia, what is the hour?'
'It is already evening--the goats are going home.'
'O gods! how went the trial'
'Both condemned.'
Nydia repressed the shriek. 'Well--well, I thought it would be so. When
do they suffer?'
'To-morrow, in the amphitheatre. If it were not for thee, little
wretch, I should be allowed to go with the rest and see it.'
Nydia leant back for some moments. Nature could endure no more--she had
fainted away. But Sosia did not perceive it, for it was the dusk of
eve, and he was full of his own privations. He went on lamenting the
loss of so delightful a show, and accusing the injustice of Arbaces for
singling him out from all his fellows to be converted into a gaoler; and
ere he had half finished, Nydia, with a deep sigh, recovered the sense
of life.
'Thou sighest, blind one, at my loss! Well, that is some comfort. So
long as you acknowledge how much you cost me, I will endeavor not to
grumble. It is hard to be ill-treated, and yet not pitied.'
'Sosia, how much dost thou require to make up the purchase of thy
freedom?'
'How much? Why, about two thousand sesterces.'
'The gods be praised! not more? Seest thou these bracelets and this
chain? They are well worth double that sum. I will give them thee
if...'
'Tempt me not: I cannot release thee. Arbaces is a severe and awful
master. Who knows but I might feed the fishes of the Sarnus Alas! all
the sesterces in the world would not buy me back into life. Better a
live dog than a dead lion.'
'Sosia, thy freedom! Think well! If thou wilt let me out only for one
little hour!--let me out at midnight--I will return ere to-morrow's
dawn; nay, thou canst go with me.'
'No,' said Sosia, sturdily, 'a slave once disobeyed Arbaces, and he was
never more heard of.'
'But the law gives a master no power over the life of a slave.'
'The law is very obliging, but more polite than efficient. I know that
Arbaces always gets the law on his side. Besides, if I am once dead,
what law can bring me to life again!'
Nydia wrung her hands. 'Is there no hope, then?' said she,
convulsively.
'None of escape till Arbaces gives the word.'
'Well, then, said Nydia, quickly, 'thou wilt not, at least, refuse to
take a letter for me: thy master cannot kill thee for that.'
'To whom?'
'The praetor.'
'To a magistrate? No--not I. I should be made a witness in court, for
what I know; and the way they cross-examine the slaves is by the
torture.'
'Pardon: I meant not the praetor--it was a word that escaped me
unawares: I meant quite another person--the gay Sallust.'
'Oh! and what want you with him?'
'Glaucus was my master; he purchased me from a cruel lord. He alone has
been kind to me. He is to die. I shall never live happily if I cannot,
in his hour of trial and doom, let him know that one heart is grateful
to him. Sallust is his friend; he will convey my message.'
'I am sure he will do no such thing. Glaucus will have enough to think
of between this and to-morrow without troubling his head about a blind
girl.'
'Man,' said Nydia, rising, 'wilt thou become free? Thou hast the offer
in thy power; to-morrow it will be too late. Never was freedom more
cheaply purchased. Thou canst easily and unmissed leave home: less than
half an hour will suffice for thine absence. And for such a trifle wilt
thou refuse liberty?'
Sosia was greatly moved. It was true that the request was remarkably
silly; but what was that to him? So much the better. He could lock the
door on Nydia, and, if Arbaces should learn his absence, the offence was
venial, and would merit but a reprimand. Yet, should Nydia's letter
contain something more than what she had said--should it speak of her
imprisonment, as he shrewdly conjectured it would do--what then! It
need never be known to Arbaces that he had carried the letter. At the
worst the bribe was enormous--the risk light--the temptation
irresistible. He hesitated no longer--he assented to the proposal.
'Give me the trinkets, and I will take the letter. Yet stay--thou art a
slave--thou hast no right to these ornaments--they are thy master's.'
'They were the gifts of Glaucus; he is my master. What chance hath he
to claim them? Who else will know they are in my possession?'
'Enough--I will bring thee the papyrus.'
'No, not papyrus--a tablet of wax and a stilus.'
Nydia, as the reader will have seen, was born of gentle parents. They
had done all to lighten her calamity, and her quick intellect seconded
their exertions. Despite her blindness, she had therefore acquired in
childhood, though imperfectly, the art to write with the sharp stilus
upon waxen tablets, in which her exquisite sense of touch came to her
aid. When the tablets were brought to her, she thus painfully traced
some words in Greek, the language of her childhood, and which almost
every Italian of the higher ranks was then supposed to know. She
carefully wound round the epistle the thread, and covered its knot with
wax; and ere she placed it in the hands of Sosia, she thus addressed
him:
'Sosia, I am blind and in prison. Thou mayst think to deceive me--thou
mayst pretend only to take the letter to Sallust--thou mayst not fulfill
thy charge: but here I solemnly dedicate thy head to vengeance, thy soul
to the infernal powers, if thou wrongest thy trust; and I call upon thee
to place thy right hand of faith in mine, and repeat after me these
words: "By the ground on which we stand--by the elements which contain
life and can curse life--by Orcus, the all-avenging--by the Olympian
Jupiter, the all-seeing--I swear that I will honestly discharge my
trust, and faithfully deliver into the hands of Sallust this letter!
And if I perjure myself in this oath, may the full curses of heaven and
hell be wreaked upon me!" Enough!--I trust thee--take thy reward. It is
already dark--depart at once.'
'Thou art a strange girl, and thou hast frightened me terribly; but it
is all very natural: and if Sallust is to be found, I give him this
letter as I have sworn. By my faith, I may have my little peccadilloes!
but perjury--no! I leave that to my betters.'
With this Sosia withdrew, carefully passing the heavy bolt athwart
Nydia's door--carefully locking its wards: and, hanging the key to his
girdle, he retired to his own den, enveloped himself from head to foot
in a huge disguising cloak, and slipped out by the back way undisturbed
and unseen.
The streets were thin and empty. He soon gained the house of Sallust.
The porter bade him leave his letter, and be gone; for Sallust was so
grieved at the condemnation of Glaucus, that he could not on any account
be disturbed.
'Nevertheless, I have sworn to give this letter into his own hands--do
so I must!' And Sosia, well knowing by experience that Cerberus loves a
sop, thrust some half a dozen sesterces into the hand of the porter.
'Well, well,' said the latter, relenting, 'you may enter if you will;
but, to tell you the truth, Sallust is drinking himself out of his
grief. It is his way when anything disturbs him. He orders a capital
supper, the best wine, and does not give over till everything is out of
his head--but the liquor.'
'An excellent plan--excellent! Ah, what it is to be rich! If I were
Sallust, I would have some grief or another every day. But just say a
kind word for me with the atriensis--I see him coming.'
Sallust was too sad to receive company; he was too sad, also, to drink
alone; so, as was his wont, he admitted his favorite freedman to his
entertainment, and a stranger banquet never was held. For ever and
anon, the kind-hearted epicure sighed, whimpered, wept outright, and
then turned with double zest to some new dish or his refilled goblet.
'My good fellow,' said he to his companion, it was a most awful
judgment--heigho!--it is not bad that kid, eh? Poor, dear
Glaucus!--what a jaw the lion has too! Ah, ah, ah!'
And Sallust sobbed loudly--the fit was stopped by a counteraction of
hiccups.
'Take a cup of wine,' said the freedman.
'A thought too cold: but then how cold Glaucus must be! Shut up the
house to-morrow--not a slave shall stir forth--none of my people shall
