CHAPTER VIII.
Meanwhile the father and the betrothed husband vainly sought themaiden. They could search only in secret: open protection, undisguiseddefense could not be given to Sophronia.
Old Mesembrius had not been seen in Rome for a long time, andtherefore every one was surprised when the distinguished patricianagain appeared in the Forum, leaning on his ivory crutches and pausingat every step.
"Ah, worthy Senator, you rarely show yourself in Rome," said aperfumed patrician dandy. "Since the death of Probus we have not seenyou even once."
"I am old and feeble, my good Pompeius. My feet will scarcely carryme, and I should not have recognised you had you not spoken to me,for my eyes are almost blind."
"But why do you not live in Rome?"
"If you should see the splendid turnips I raise in my garden, yousurely would not summon me to Rome. An old man like me interestshimself only in his apricot slips."
At this moment a messenger from the Capitol whispered to Pompeius:
"Carinus has laid aside the purple in favor of his brother Numerian."
Mesembrius sometimes heard so well that he caught the faintest murmur.
"What did you say?" he eagerly exclaimed. "Carinus has abdicated, andNumerian will be Imperator? Huzza! Huzza!"
"Do you know Numerian? What kind of a man is he?" asked the courtiersanxiously.
"What kind of a man? He is a hero, a Roman, under whose rule Rome'sgolden age will begin again and the sun of fame will again shine uponus. The glorious battles which Rome fought against half the worldNumerian will continue. We will all share them. A new and radiantepoch is dawning. I will swing myself upon my charger and be whereevery man of honour must appear. I am not yet too old to die inbattle!"
The old man, frantic with joy, was gesticulating enthusiastically,without thinking of his crutches, and recognised an acquaintancecoming from the direction of the Capitol at a distance of a hundredpaces. This was Quaterquartus, the augur.
"You are from the Capitol, Quaterquartus? Well! Well! What is thenews?"
"What I predicted," replied the augur with dignity. "The Senate wouldnot accept the abdication, and compelled the immortal Carinus tocontinue to wear the purple."
Mesembrius was obliged to lean on his crutches again.
"Oh, my poor feet! Oh, this terrible gout in my knees! Foolish old manthat I am; what have I been saying? I swing myself on a horse? If Icould at least sit comfortably in my wheel-chair! Such a foolish oldfellow! How could I go to war when I see so badly that I cannotdistinguish friend from foe? Laugh at me, my dear friends; laugh atsuch a silly old man. Oh, my feet----"
And, groaning painfully, he dragged himself forward. Then Manlius methim.
"Have you learned anything?" he asked.
"To-morrow I will force myself into Carinus's presence. And you?"
"I will seek Glyceria."
"That you may kill her ere she can speak."
"Have no anxiety. Even if she could use magic arts, she would die. Wewill meet in Carinus's atrium to-morrow. Be provided with a goodsword."
* * * * *
Manlius went to the _Pons Sacer_.
Before the statue of Triton sat the old woman who had given him thering. When she saw Manlius she rose and went to meet him.
"Have you the ring with you, my lord?" she asked.
"Look at it."
"Will you go with me?"
"That is the purpose of my coming here."
"I have waited for you four days. Why did you not appear sooner?"
"Pleasure never comes too late," replied Manlius bitterly, and allowedhimself to be conducted through gardens, byways, and covered passagestill his guide opened a small bronze gate, and taking him by thehand, led him through a dark corridor into a circular hall, adornedwith pillars and lighted by a single round window above.
Here the old woman left him and went to summon her mistress.
Manlius looked around him. He had imagined the apartment of a Romanlady an entirely different room. He had expected to see jaspercolumns, garlanded with climbing plants, fountains perfumed with rosewater, representations of frivolous love scenes, an atmospheresaturated with heavy fragrance, purple couches, and silver mirrors,and instead he found himself in a lofty, noble, temple-like hall,whose walls were adorned with masterly pictures of battles and heroes,while in the centre stood the marble bust of a bald-headed old man.
"Perhaps Glyceria does not even live here," he thought, and just atthat moment heard his name uttered behind him. He turned. Before himstood a pale, slender woman, in a simple snow-white robe, whose foldsconcealed her figure up to her chin and covered her arms to thewrists. This was not the alluring costume that suited a loveadventure. The face was still less seductive. Deep, despairing,consuming grief, that blight of beauty, was expressed in everyfeature.
Manlius recognised Glyceria. His blood rushed feverishly to histemples, and he convulsively clutched the hilt of his sword. Yet hedid not wish to kill her thus. He thought that this, too, was only anew variety of the arts of temptation in which women are such adepts.When a libertine is to be attracted, the graces are called to aid; ifit is a hero, Minerva must be summoned to help. Clothes, moods, willcorrespond with the character of the chosen individual; nay, even thefeatures will be altered so that they will appear different to everyone. He could not kill her while she looked so sad; he must await themoment when she began to speak to him of her love to thrust his swordinto her heart at the first yearning smile.
Pausing with drooping head, three paces from Manlius, the ladyfaltered almost too low for him to hear:
"You have come late. Very late."
Manlius, with suppressed fury, answered:
"Is love a fruit that becomes overripe if it waits long?"
Glyceria looked at Manlius in horror.
"What is the matter with you that you speak to me of love?"
"Did you not summon me that we might whisper together of rapture,bliss, and sweet delights?"
"Once your words would have given me pleasure; now horror seizes mewhen you speak in this way."
"Are you not convinced that your beauty has such magic power thatevery man who beholds you forgets every woman he has ever seen?"replied Manlius, half drawing his sword from its sheath.
Glyceria looked into the youth's face as though she were gazing intoimpenetrable darkness, and asked:
"Even the one who is lying dead at this moment?"
Manlius started back, his breath failed, his face grew corpselike inits pallor. He strove to pronounce Sophronia's name, but his lipswould not form the word, and staggering back, he was obliged to leanagainst a pillar.
Glyceria went toward him, her staring eyes fixed upon his face as ifshe wished to read his inmost soul.
"Manlius Sinister!" she said calmly. "My dreams have told me that youwill kill me, and I know that the hand beneath your chlamys isclutching your sword-hilt. That will be no grief to me. My anguish isthat you see in me your promised wife's murderess."
Manlius sighed heavily, and a secret shudder shook his whole frame. Ina voice that seemed to come from the grave, he asked:
"How was she killed? Was she torn by wild beasts? Or did greedy flamesdevour her tender body? Speak, Hetaera. Tell me clearly and minutelyhow she was tortured to death. I _will_ hear."
"She was not dragged to the scenes of torture, but to Carinus'orgies."
"Ah!" shrieked Manlius in unutterable fury, covering his face. Then,removing his hands, he said quietly: "Go on; omit nothing. Describestep by step the outrage, and in what way my idol was dragged throughthe mire. Speak!"
"Nothing of that kind happened. A Roman woman, who wished to rescueher, exchanged garments with her in the prison; and when this plan wasbaffled, she concealed a dagger in Sophronia's girdle and the girlkilled herself before any man's hand touched her."
Tears streamed from the young soldier's eyes; his sword fell from hishand.
"Ye gods, bless that Roman woma
n for the sake of the dagger. Do younot know who it was?"
"She does not wish you to be told."
Manlius drew a long breath, as if relieved from a heavy burden.
"I thank you for these tidings."
There was something terrible in this gratitude.
"The danger is not yet over," Glyceria began again. "Carinus, whosepallid face was sprinkled with the martyr's blood, sank back upon hiscouch half fainting, and through his trembling soul flashed thethought: If a woman could die in this way, how will her father or herpromised husband--kill! No one knew Sophronia; but my father'spresence in Rome has already attracted attention, and although hemakes no public search, people are beginning to suspect that the deadgirl was his daughter. You will both be summoned before Carinusto-morrow; he will ask if you can recognise a dead woman who was foundmurdered in the Christians' prison, and Sophronia will be shown toyou. Be hard-hearted at that moment, Manlius; let no tears fill youreyes when you behold this corpse. Say that you do not know it, wear anindifferent face; for if you betray yourself, you will lose yourhead."
"I am to wear an indifferent face," said Manlius, with dilated eyes,"and not recognise her when she lies dead before me? I am to say thatI have never seen her?"
"Do you imagine that Carinus would suffer a man to live whose promisedwife had killed herself on the Caesar's account?"
"You are right," said the knight, bitterly. "Manlius will learn todissimulate."
He burst into a terrible laugh.
Glyceria sank on her knees before him, and offering him her beautifulbosom, stammered, sighing:
"And now--take your sword--begin with me."
Manlius smiled.
"So your dreams have predicted that I shall kill you? You arebeautiful, Glyceria; really marvellously beautiful. Is it true, aspeople say, that Carinus loves you ardently?"
"Still more ardently do I hate him. Why do you ask?"
"Because I should like to know whether you have ever rendered Carinushappy by your favour?"
"Never even with a smile."
"And yet he would gladly give years of his life for a single nightwith you."
"Ah, by Styx! If I should grant him a night, it would be an eternalone!" cried Glyceria, drawing herself to her full height while herface crimsoned.
Manlius went up to her and clasped her hand.
"Now you see, Glyceria, that your dreams deceived you, for I shall notkill you. No, I shall not kill you, but will make you my wife."
Glyceria drew back her hand in horror.
"Manlius, this is mockery, and bitterer than death."
"No, it is only love. I love you."
"Manlius, do not kill me thus, not thus. Rather with the sharp sword."
"I love you. If I loved your sister, I now see her features in yourface; and when grief for her loss tortures me, I must fly to you tofind consolation. I do not believe aught of all the world says of you;I will take the past from you and make you what your sister has been.I will lead you back to your father, and he will bestow upon you theblessing he gave your sister. I will endow you with everything thatwas her property. You will wear her simple garments and even assumeher name, and I will call you my Sophronia."
Glyceria, trembling violently, escaped from the youth's arms as hedrew her toward him with gentle violence, and with glowing cheeks andpanting bosom, fled without answering these bewildering words.
Manlius, looking after her, muttered under his breath:
"Cannot I play the hypocrite too?"