Chapter XVI

BUT Chilo did not appear for some time, and Vinicius knew not at last
what to think of his absence. In vain he repeated to himself that
searching, if continued to a certain and successful issue, must be
gradual. His blood and impulsive nature rebelled against the voice of
judgment. To do nothing, to wait, to sit with folded arms, was so
repulsive to him that he could not be reconciled to it in any way. To
search the alleys of the city in the dark garb of a slave, through this
alone, that it was useless, seemed to him merely a mask for his own
inefficiency, and could give no satisfaction. His freedmen, persons of
experience, whom he commanded to search independently, turned out a
hundred times less expert than Chilo. Meanwhile there rose in him,
besides his love for Lygia, the stubbornness of a player resolved to
win. Vinicius had been always a person of this kind. From earliest
youth he had accomplished what he desired with the passionateness of one
who does not understand failure, or the need of yielding something. For
a time military discipline had put his self-will within bounds, but also
it had engrafted into him the conviction that every command of his to
subordinates must be fulfilled; his prolonged stay in the Orient, among
people pliant and inured to slavish obedience, confirmed in him the
faith that for his "I wish" there were no limits. At present his
vanity, too, was wounded painfully. There was, besides, in Lygia's
opposition and resistance, and in her flight itself, which was to him
incomprehensible, a kind of riddle. In trying to solve this riddle he
racked his head terribly. He felt that Acte had told the truth, and
that Lygia was not indifferent. But if this were true, why had she
preferred wandering and misery to his love, his tenderness, and a
residence in his splendid mansion? To this question he found no answer,
and arrived only at a kind of dim understanding that between him and
Lygia, between their ideas, between the world which belonged to him and
Petronius, and the world of Lygia and Pomponia, there existed some sort
of difference, some kind of misunderstanding as deep as an abyss, which
nothing could fill up or make even. It seemed to him, then, that he
must lose Lygia; and at this thought he lost the remnant of balance
which Petronius wished to preserve in him. There were moments in which
he did not know whether he loved Lygia or hated her; he understood only
that he must find her, and he would rather that the earth swallowed her
than that he should not see and possess her. By the power of
imagination he saw her as clearly at times as if she had been before his
face. He recalled every word which he had spoken to her; every word
which he had heard from her. He felt her near; felt her on his bosom,
in his arms; and then desire embraced him like a flame. He loved her
and called to her.

And when he thought that he was loved, that she might do with
willingness all that he wished of her, sore and endless sorrow seized
him, and a kind of deep tenderness flooded his heart, like a mighty
wave. But there were moments, too, in which he grew pale from rage, and
delighted in thoughts of the humiliation and tortures which he would
inflict on Lygia when he found her. He wanted not only to have her, but
to have her as a trampled slave. At the same time he felt that if the
choice were left him, to be her slave or not to see her in life again,
he would rather be her slave. There were days in which he thought of the
marks which the lash would leave on her rosy body, and at the same time
he wanted to kiss those marks. It came to his head also that he would
be happy if he could kill her.

In this torture, torment, uncertainty, and suffering, he lost health,
and even beauty. He became a cruel and incomprehensible master. His
slaves, and even his freedmen, approached him with trembling; and when
punishments fell on them causelessly,--punishments as merciless as
undeserved,--they began to hate him in secret; while he, feeling this,
and feeling his own isolation, took revenge all the more on them. He
restrained himself with Chilo alone, fearing lest he might cease his
searches; the Greek, noting this, began to gain control of him, and grew
more and more exacting. At first he assured Vinicius at each visit that
the affair would proceed easily and quickly; now he began to discover
difficulties, and without ceasing, it is true, to guarantee the
undoubted success of the searches, he did not hide the fact that they
must continue yet for a good while.

At last he came, after long days of waiting, with a face so gloomy that
the young man grew pale at sight of him, and springing up had barely
strength to ask,--"Is she not among the Christians?" "She is, lord,"
answered Chilo; "but I found Glaucus among them." "Of what art thou
speaking, and who is Glaucus?" "Thou hast forgotten, lord, it seems,
that old man with whom I journeyed from Naples to Rome, and in whose
defence I lost these two fingers,--a loss which prevents me from
writing. Robbers, who bore away his wife and child, stabbed him with a
knife. I left him dying at an inn in Minturna, and bewailed him long.
Alas! I have convinced myself that he is alive yet, and belongs in Rome
to the Christian community."

Vinicius, who could not understand what the question was, understood
only that Glaucus was becoming a hindrance to the discovery of Lygia;
hence he suppressed his rising anger, and said,--"If thou didst defend
him, he should be thankful and help thee."

"Ah! worthy tribune, even gods are not always grateful, and what must
the case be with men? True, he should be thankful. But, unhappily, he
is an old man, of a mind weak and darkened by age and disappointment;
for which reason, not only is he not grateful, but, as I learned from
his co-religionists, he accuses me of having conspired with the robbers,
and says that I am the cause of his misfortunes. That is the recompense
for my fingers!"

"Scoundrel! I am certain that it was as he says," replied Vinicius.

"Then thou knowest more than he does, lord, for he only surmises that it
was so; which, however, would not prevent him from summoning the
Christians, and from revenging himself on me cruelly. He would have
done that undoubtedly, and others, with equal certainty, would have
helped him; but fortunately he does not know my name, and in the house
of prayer where we met, he did not notice me. I, however, knew him at
once, and at the first moment wished to throw myself on his neck.
Wisdom, however, and the habit of thinking before every step which I
intend to take, restrained me. Therefore, on issuing from the house of
prayer, I inquired concerning him, and those who knew him declared that
he was the man who had been betrayed by his comrade on the journey from
Naples. Otherwise I should not have known that he gives out such a
story."

"How does this concern me? Tell what thou sawest in the house of
prayer."

"It does not concern thee, lord, but it concerns me just as much as my
life. Since I wish that my wisdom should survive me, I would rather
renounce the reward which thou hast offered, than expose my life for
empty lucre; without which, I as a true philosopher shall be able to
live and seek divine wisdom."

But Vinicius approached him with an ominous countenance, and began in a
suppressed voice,--"Who told thee that death would meet thee sooner at
the hands of Glaucus than at mine? Whence knowest thou, dog, that I
will not have thee buried right away in my garden?"

Chilo, who was a coward, looked at Vinicius, and in the twinkle of an
eye understood that one more unguarded word and he was lost beyond
redemption.

"I will search for her, lord, and I will find her!" cried he, hurriedly.

Silence followed, during which were heard the quick breathing of
Vinicius, and the distant song of slaves at work in the garden.

Only after a while did the Greek resume his speech, when he noticed that
the young patrician was somewhat pacified.

"Death passed me, but I looked on it with the calmness of Socrates. No,
lord, I have not said that I refuse to search for the maiden; I desired
merely to tell thee that search for her is connected now with great
peril to me. On a time thou didst doubt that there was a certain
Euricius in the world, and though thou wert convinced by thine own eyes
that the son of my father told the truth to thee, thou hast suspicions
now that I have invented Glaucus. Ah! would that he were only a
fiction, that I might go among the Christians with perfect safety, as I
went some time since; I would give up for that the poor old slave woman
whom I bought, three days since, to care for my advanced age and maimed
condition. But Glaucus is living, lord; and if he had seen me once,
thou wouldst not have seen me again, and in that case who would find the
maiden?"

Here he was silent again, and began to dry his tears.

"But while Glaucus lives," continued he, "how can I search for her?--for
I may meet him at any step; and if I meet him I shall perish, and with
me will cease all my searching."

"What art thou aiming at? What help is there? What dost thou wish to
undertake?" inquired Vinicius.

"Aristotle teaches us, lord, that less things should be sacrificed for
greater, and King Priam said frequently that old age was a grievous
burden. Indeed, the burden of old age and misfortune weighs upon
Glaucus this long time, and so heavily that death would be to him a
benefit. For what is death, according to Seneca, but liberation?"

"Play the fool with Petronius, not with me! Tell what thy desire is."

"If virtue is folly, may the gods permit me to be a fool all my life. I
desire, lord, to set aside Glaucus, for while he is living my life and
searches are in continual peril."

"Hire men to beat him to death with clubs; I will pay them."

"They will rob thee, lord, and afterward make profit of the secret.
There are as many ruffians in Rome as grains of sand in the arena, but
thou wilt not believe how dear they are when an honest man needs to
employ their villainy. No, worthy tribune! But if watchmen catch the
murderers in the act? They would tell, beyond doubt, who hired them,
and then thou wouldst have trouble. They will not point to me, for I
shall not give my name. Thou art doing ill not to trust in me, for,
setting aside my keenness, remember that there is a question of two
other things,--of my life, and the reward which thou has promised me."

"How much dost thou need?"

"A thousand sestertia, for turn attention to this, that I must find
honest ruffians, men who when they have received earnest money, will not
take it off without a trace. For good work there must be good pay!
Something might be added, too, for my sake, to wipe away the tears which
I shall shed out of pity for Glaucus. I take the gods to witness how I
love him. If I receive a thousand sestertia to-day, two days hence his
soul will be in Hades; and then, if souls preserve memory and the gift
of thought, he will know for the first time how I loved him. I will
find people this very day, and tell them that for each day of the life
of Glaucus I will withhold one hundred sestertia. I have, besides, a
certain idea, which seems to me infallible."

Vinicius promised him once more the desired sum, forbidding him to
mention Glaucus again; but asked what other news he brought, where he
had been all the time, what he had seen, and what he had discovered.
But Chilo was not able to tell much. He had been in two more houses of
prayer,--had observed each person carefully, especially the women,--but
had seen no one who resembled Lygia: the Christians, however, looked on
him as one of their own sect, and, since he redeemed the son of
Euricius, they honored him as a man following in the steps of "Christ."
He had learned from them, also, that a great lawgiver of theirs, a
certain Paul of Tarsus, was in Rome, imprisoned because of charges
preferred by the Jews, and with this man he had resolved to become
acquainted. But most of all was he pleased by this,--that the supreme
priest of the whole sect, who had been Christ's disciple, and to whom
Christ had confided government over the whole world of Christians, might
arrive in Rome any moment. All the Christians desired evidently to see
him, and hear his teachings. Some great meetings would follow, at which
he, Chilo, would be present; and what is more, since it is easy to hide
in the crowd, he would take Vinicius to those meetings. Then they would
find Lygia certainly. If Glaucus were once set aside, it would not be
connected even with great danger. As to revenge, the Christians, too,
would revenge but in general they were peaceful people.

Here Chilo began to relate, with a certain surprise, that he had never
seen that they gave themselves up to debauchery, that they poisoned
wells or fountains, that they were enemies of the human race, worshipped
an ass, or ate the flesh of children. No; he had seen nothing of that
sort. Certainly he would find among them even people who would hide
away Glaucus for money; but their religion, as far as he knew, did not
incite to crime,--on the contrary, it enjoined forgiveness of offences.

Vinicius remembered what Pomponia had said to him at Acte's, and in
general he listened to Chilo's words with pleasure. Though his feeling
for Lygia assumed at times the seeming of hatred, he felt a relief when
he heard that the religion which she and Pomponia confessed was neither
criminal nor repulsive. But a species of undefined feeling rose in him
that it was just that reverence for Christ, unknown and mysterious,
which created the difference between himself and Lygia; hence he began
at once to fear that religion and to hate it.