Chapter VIII

No one stopped Ursus, no one inquired even what he was doing. Those
guests who were not under the table had not kept their own places; hence
the servants, seeing a giant carrying a guest on his arm, thought him
some slave bearing out his intoxicated mistress. Moreover, Acte was with
them, and her presence removed all suspicion.

In this way they went from the triclinium to the adjoining chamber, and
thence to the gallery leading to Acte's apartments. To such a degree had
her strength deserted Lygia, that she hung as if dead on the arm of
Ursus. But when the cool, pure breeze of morning beat around her, she
opened her eyes. It was growing clearer and clearer in the open air.
After they had passed along the colonnade awhile, they turned to a side
portico, coming out, not in the courtyard, but the palace gardens, where
the tops of the pines and cypresses were growing ruddy from the light of
morning. That part of the building was empty, so that echoes of music
and sounds of the feast came with decreasing distinctness. It seemed to
Lygia that she had been rescued from hell, and borne into God's bright
world outside. There was something, then, besides that disgusting
triclinium. There was the sky, the dawn, light, and peace. Sudden
weeping seized the maiden, and, taking shelter on the arm of the giant,
she repeated, with sobbing,--"Let us go home, Ursus! home, to the house
of Aulus."

"Let us go!" answered Ursus.

They found themselves now in the small atrium of Acte's apartments.
Ursus placed Lygia on a marble bench at a distance from the fountain.
Acte strove to pacify her; she urged her to sleep, and declared that for
the moment there was no danger,--after the feast the drunken guests
would sleep till evening. For a long time Lygia could not calm herself,
and, pressing her temples with both hands, she repeated like a child,--
"Let us go home, to the house of Aulus!"

Ursus was ready. At the gates stood pretorians, it is true, but he
would pass them. The soldiers would not stop out-going people. The
space before the arch was crowded with litters. Guests were beginning
to go forth in throngs. No one would detain them. They would pass with
the crowd and go home directly. For that matter, what does he care? As
the queen commands, so must it be. He is there to carry out her orders.

"Yes, Ursus," said Lygia, "let us go."

Acte was forced to find reason for both. They would pass out, true; no
one would stop them. But it is not permitted to flee from the house of
Cęsar; whoso does that offends Cęsar's majesty. They may go; but in the
evening a centurion at the head of soldiers will take a death sentence
to Aulus and Pomponia Gręcina; they will bring Lygia to the palace
again, and then there will be no rescue for her. Should Aulus and his
wife receive her under their roof, death awaits them to a certainty.

Lygia's arms dropped. There was no other outcome. She must choose her
own ruin or that of Plautius. In going to the feast, she had hoped that
Vinicius and Petronius would win her from Cęsar, and return her to
Pomponia; now she knew that it was they who had brought Cęsar to remove
her from the house of Aulus. There was no help. Only a miracle could
save her from the abyss,--a miracle and the might of God.

"Acte," said she, in despair, "didst thou hear Vinicius say that Cęsar
had given me to him, and that he will send slaves here this evening to
take me to his house?"

"I did," answered Acte; and, raising her arms from her side, she was
silent. The despair with which Lygia spoke found in her no echo. She
herself had been Nero's favorite. Her heart, though good, could not
feel clearly the shame of such a relation. A former slave, she had
grown too much inured to the law of slavery; and, besides, she loved
Nero yet. If he returned to her, she would stretch her arms to him, as
to happiness. Comprehending clearly that Lygia must become the mistress
of the youthful and stately Vinicius, or expose Aulus and Pomponia to
ruin, she failed to understand how the girl could hesitate.

"In Cęsar's house," said she, after a while, "it would not be safer for
thee than in that of Vinicius."

And it did not occur to her that, though she told the truth, her words
meant, "Be resigned to fate and become the concubine of Vinicius."

As to Lygia, who felt on her lips yet his kisses, burning as coals and
full of beastly desire, the blood rushed to her face with shame at the
mere thought of them.

"Never," cried she, with an outburst, "will I remain here, or at the
house of Vinicius,--never!"

"But," inquired Acte, "is Vinicius hateful to thee?"

Lygia was unable to answer, for weeping seized her anew. Acte gathered
the maiden to her bosom, and strove to calm her excitement. Ursus
breathed heavily, and balled his giant fists; for, loving his queen with
the devotion of a dog, he could not bear the sight of her tears. In his
half-wild Lygian heart was the wish to return to the triclinium, choke
Vinicius, and, should the need come, Cęsar himself; but he feared to
sacrifice thereby his mistress, and was not certain that such an act,
which to him seemed very simple, would befit a confessor of the
Crucified Lamb.

But Acte, while caressing Lygia, asked again, "Is he so hateful to
thee?"

"No," said Lygia; "it is not permitted me to hate, for I am a
Christian."

"I know, Lygia. I know also from the letters of Paul of Tarsus, that it
is not permitted to defile one's self, nor to fear death more than sin;
but tell me if thy teaching permits one person to cause the death of
others?"

"No."

"Then how canst thou bring Cęsar's vengeance on the house of Aulus?" A
moment of silence followed. A bottomless abyss yawned before Lygia
again.

"I ask," continued the young freedwoman, "for I have compassion on thee
--and I have compassion on the good Pomponia and Aulus, and on their
child. It is long since I began to live in this house, and I know what
Cęsar's anger is. No! thou art not at liberty to flee from here. One
way remains to thee: implore Vinicius to return thee to Pomponia."

But Lygia dropped on her knees to implore some one else. Ursus knelt
down after a while, too, and both began to pray in Cęsar's house at the
morning dawn.

Acte witnessed such a prayer for the first time, and could not take her
eyes from Lygia, who, seen by her in profile, with raised hands, and
face turned heavenward, seemed to implore rescue. The dawn, casting
light on her dark hair and white peplus, was reflected in her eyes.
Entirely in the light, she seemed herself like light. In that pale
face, in those parted lips, in those raised hands and eyes, a kind of
superhuman exaltation was evident. Acte understood then why Lygia could
not become the concubine of any man. Before the face of Nero's former
favorite was drawn aside, as it were, a corner of that veil which hides
a world altogether different from that to which she was accustomed. She
was astonished by prayer in that abode of crime and infamy. A moment
earlier it had seemed to her that there was no rescue for Lygia; now she
began to think that something uncommon would happen, that some aid would
come,--aid so mighty that Cęsar himself would be powerless to resist
it; that some winged army would descend from the sky to help that
maiden, or that the sun would spread its rays beneath her feet and draw
her up to itself. She had heard of many miracles among Christians, and
she thought now that everything said of them was true, since Lygia was
praying.

Lygia rose at last, with a face serene with hope. Ursus rose too, and,
holding to the bench, looked at his mistress, waiting for her words.

But it grew dark in her eyes, and after a time two great tears rolled
down her checks slowly.

"May God bless Pomponia and Aulus," said she. "It is not permitted me
to bring ruin on them; therefore I shall never see them again."

Then turning to Ursus she said that he alone remained to her in the
world; that he must be to her as a protector and a father. They could
not seek refuge in the house of Aulus, for they would bring on it the
anger of Cęsar. But neither could she remain in the house of Cęsar or
that of Vinicius. Let Ursus take her then; let him conduct her out of
the city; let him conceal her in some place where neither Vinicius nor
his servants could find her. She would follow Ursus anywhere, even
beyond the sea, even beyond the mountains, to the barbarians, where the
Roman name was not heard, and whither the power of Cęsar did not reach.
Let him take her and save her, for he alone had remained to her.

The Lygian was ready, and in sign of obedience he bent to her feet and
embraced them. But on the face of Acte, who had been expecting a
miracle, disappointment was evident. Had the prayer effected only that
much? To flee from the house of Cęsar is to commit an offence against
majesty which must be avenged; and even if Lygia succeeded in hiding,
Cęsar would avenge himself on Aulus and Pomponia. If she wishes to
escape, let her escape from the house of Vinicius. Then Cęsar, who does
not like to occupy himself with the affairs of others, may not wish even
to aid Vinicius in the pursuit; in every case it will not be a crime
against majesty.

But Lygia's thoughts were just the following: Aulus would not even know
where she was; Pomponia herself would not know. She would escape not
from the house of Vinicius, however, but while on the way to it. When
drunk, Vinicius had said that he would send his slaves for her in the
evening. Beyond doubt he had told the truth, which he would not have
done had he been sober. Evidently he himself, or perhaps he and
Petronius, had seen Cęsar before the feast, and won from him the promise
to give her on the following evening. And if they forgot that day, they
would send for her on the morrow. But Ursus will save her. He will
come; he will bear her out of the litter as he bore her out of the
triclinium, and they will go into the world. No one could resist Ursus,
not even that terrible athlete who wrestled at the feast yesterday. But
as Vinicius might send a great number of slaves, Ursus would go at once
to Bishop Linus for aid and counsel. The bishop will take compassion on
her, will not leave her in the hands of Vinicius; he will command
Christians to go with Ursus to rescue her. They will seize her and bear
her away; then Ursus can take her out of the city and hide her from the
power of Rome.

And her face began to flush and smile. Consolation entered her anew, as
if the hope of rescue had turned to reality. She threw herself on
Acte's neck suddenly, and, putting her beautiful lips to Acte's cheek,
she whispered:

"Thou wilt not betray, Acte, wilt thou?"

"By the shade of my mother," answered the freedwoman, "I will not; but
pray to thy God that Ursus be able to bear thee away."

The blue, childlike eyes of the giant were gleaming with happiness. He
had not been able to frame any plan, though he had been breaking his
poor head; but a thing like this he could do,--and whether in the day or
in the night it was all one to him! He would go to the bishop, for the
bishop can read in the sky what is needed and what is not. Besides, he
could assemble Christians himself. Are his acquaintances few among
slaves, gladiators, and free people, both in the Subura and beyond the
bridges? He can collect a couple of thousand of them. He will rescue
his lady, and take her outside the city, and he can go with her. They
will go to the end of the world, even to that place from which they had
come, where no one has heard of Rome.

Here he began to look forward, as if to see things in the future and
very distant.

"To the forest? Ai, what a forest, what a forest!"

But after a while he shook himself out of his visions. Well, he will go
to the bishop at once, and in the evening will wait with something like
a hundred men for the litter. And let not slaves, but even pretorians,
take her from him! Better for any man not to come under his fist, even
though in iron armor,--for is iron so strong? When he strikes iron
earnestly, the head underneath will not survive.

But Lygia raised her finger with great and also childlike seriousness.

"Ursus, do not kill," said she.

Ursus put his fist, which was like a maul, to the back of his head, and,
rubbing his neck with great seriousness, began to mutter. But he must
rescue "his light." She herself had said that his turn had come. He
will try all he can. But if something happens in spite of him? In
every case he must save her. But should anything happen, he will
repent, and so entreat the Innocent Lamb that the Crucified Lamb will
have mercy on him, poor fellow. He has no wish to offend the Lamb; but
then his hands are so heavy.

Great tenderness was expressed on his face; but wishing to hide it, he
bowed and said,--"Now I will go to the holy bishop."

Acte put her arms around Lygia's neck, and began to weep. Once more the
freedwoman understood that there was a world in which greater happiness
existed, even in suffering, than in all the excesses and luxury of
Cęsar's house. Once more a kind of door to the light was opened a
little before her, but she felt at once that she was unworthy to pass
through it.