CHAPTER I.
Dame Hannah had watched by Selene till sunrise and indefatigably cooledboth her injured foot and the wound in her head. The old physician wasnot dissatisfied with the condition of his patient, but ordered thewidow to lie down for a time and to leave the care of her for a fewhours to her young friend. When Mary was alone with the sick girl andhad laid the fresh cold handkerchief in its place, Selene turned herface towards her and said:
"Then you were at Lochias yesterday. Tell me how you found them allthere. Who guided you to our lodgings and did you see my little brotherand sisters?"
"You are not yet quite free of fever, and I do not know how much I oughtto talk to you--but I would with all my heart."
The words were spoken kindly and there was a deep loving light in theeyes of the deformed girl as she said them. Selene excited not merelyher sympathy and pity, but her admiration too, for she was so beautiful,so totally different from herself, and in every little service sherendered her, she felt like some despised beggar whom a prince mighthave permitted to wait upon him. Her hump had never seemed to her sobent, nor her brown skin so ugly at any other time as it did to-day,when side by side with this symmetrical and delicate girlish form,rounded to such tender contours.
But Mary felt not the smallest movement of envy. She only felt happy tohelp Selene, to serve her, to be allowed to gaze at her although she wasa heathen. During the night too, she had prayed fervently that the Lordmight graciously draw to himself this lovely, gentle creature, that Hemight permit her to recover, and fill her soul with the same love forthe Saviour that gave joy to her own. More than once she had longed tokiss her, but she dared not, for it seemed to her as though the sickgirl were made of finer stuff than she herself.
Selene felt tired, very tired, and as the pain diminished, a comfortablesense stole over her of peace and respite in the silent and lovinghomeliness of her surroundings; a feeling that was new and verysoothing, though it was interrupted, now and again, by her anxiety forthose at home. Dame Hannah's presence did her good, for she fanciedshe recognized in her voice something that had been peculiar to hermother's, when she had played with her and pressed her with specialaffection to her heart.
In the papyrus factory, at the gumming-table, the sight of the littlehunchback had disgusted Selene, but here she observed what good eyesshe had, and how kind a voice, and the care with which Mary lifted thecompress from her foot--as softly, as if in her own hands she felt thepain that Selene was suffering--and then laid another on the brokenankle, aroused her gratitude. Her sister Arsinoe was a vain and thoroughAlexandrian girl, and she had nicknamed the poor thing after the ugliestof the Hellenes who had besieged Troy. "Dame Thersites," and Seleneherself had often repeated it. Now she forgot the insulting namealtogether, and met the objections of her nurse by saying:
"The fever cannot be much now; if you tell me something I shall notthink so constantly of this atrocious pain. I am longing to be at home.Did you see the children?"
"No, Selene. I went no farther than the entrance of your dwelling, andthe kind gate-keeper's wife told me at once that I should find neitheryour father nor your sister, and that your slave-woman was gone out tobuy cakes for the children."
"To buy them!" exclaimed Selene in astonishment. "The old woman told metoo that the way to your apartments led through several rooms in whichslaves were at work, and that her son, who happened to be with her,should accompany me, and so he did, but the door was locked, and hetold me I might entrust his mother with my commission. I did so, for shelooked as if she were both judicious and kind."
"That she is."
"And she is very fond of you, for when I told her of your sufferings thebright tears rolled down her cheeks, and she praised you as warmly, andwas as much troubled as if you had been her own daughter."
"You said nothing about our working in the factory?" asked Seleneanxiously.
"Certainly not, you had desired me not to mention it. I was to sayeverything that was kind to you from the old lady."
For several minutes the two girls were silent, then Selene asked:
"Did the gate-keeper's son who accompanied you also hear of the disasterthat had befallen me?
"Yes, on the way to your rooms he was full of fun and jokes, but when Itold him that you had gone out with your damaged foot and now could notget home again, and were being treated by the leech, he was very angryand used blasphemous language."
"Can you remember what he said?"
"Not perfectly, but one thing I still recollect. He accused his gods ofhaving created a beautiful work only to spoil it, nay he abused them"Mary looked down as she spoke, as if she were repeating something ill totell, but Selene colored slightly with pleasure, and exclaimed eagerly,as if to outdo the sculptor in abuse:
"He is quite right, the powers above act in such a way--"
"That is not right," said the deformed girl reprovingly.
"What?" asked the patient. "Here you live quietly to yourselves inperfect peace and love. Many a word that I heard dame Hannah say hasstuck in my mind, and I can see for myself that you act as kindly as youspeak. The gods no doubt are good to you!"
"God is for each and all."
"What!" exclaimed Selene with flashing eyes. "For those whose everypleasure they destroy? For the home of eight children whom they rob oftheir mother? For the poor whom they daily threaten to deprive of theirbread-winner?"
"For them too, there is a merciful God," interrupted dame Hannah who hadjust come into the room. "I will lead you to the loving Father in Heavenwho cares for us all as if we were His children; but not now--you mustrest and neither talk nor hear of anything that can excite your feveredblood. Now I will rearrange the pillow under your head. Mary will wet afresh compress and then you must try to sleep."
"I cannot," replied Selene, while Hannah shook her pillows and arrangedthem carefully. "Tell me about your God who loves us."
"By-and-bye, dear child. Seek Him and you will find Him, for of all Hischildren He loves them best who suffer."
"Those who suffer?" asked Selene, in surprise. "What has a God in hisOlympian joys to do with those who suffer?"
"Be quiet, child," interrupted Hannah, patting the sick girl with asoothing hand, "you soon will learn how God takes care of you and thatAnother loves you."
"Another," muttered Selene, and her cheeks turned crimson.
She thought at once of Pollux, and asked herself why the story of hersufferings should have moved him so deeply if he were not in love withher. Then she began to seek some colorable ground for what she had heardas she went past the screen behind which he had been working. He hadnever told her plainly that he loved her. Why should he, an artist and abright, high spirited young fellow, not be allowed to jest with a prettygirl, even if his heart belonged to another. No, she was not indifferentto him: that she had felt that night when she had stood as his model,and now--as she thought--I could guess, nay, feel sure of, from Mary'sstory.
The longer she thought of him, the more she began to long to see himwhom she had loved so dearly even as a child. Her heart had never yetbeat for any other man, but since she had met Pollux again in the hallof the Muses, his image had filled her whole soul, and what she now feltmust be love--could be nothing else. Half awake, but half asleep, shepictured him to herself, entering this quiet room, sitting down by thehead of her couch, and looking with his kind eyes into hers. Ah! and howcould she help it--she sat up and opened her arms to him.
"Be still, my child, he still," said Hannah. "It is not good for you tomove about so much."
Selene opened her eyes, but only to close them again and to dream forsome time longer till she was startled from her rest by loud voices inthe garden. Hannah left the room, and her voice presently mingled withthose of the other persons outside, and when she returned her cheekswere flushed and she could not find fitting words in which to tell herpatient what she had to say.
"A very big man, in the most outrageous dress," she said at last,"wanted to be let in; when
the gatekeeper refused, he forced his way in.He asked for you."
"For me," said Selene, blushing.
"Yes, my child, he brought a large and beautiful nosegay of flowers, andsaid 'your friend at Lochias sends you his greeting.'"
"My friend at Lochias?" murmured thoughtfully Selene to herself. Thenher eyes sparkled with gladness, and she asked quickly:
"You said the man who brought the flowers was very tall."
"He was."
"Oh please, dame Hannah, let me see the flowers?" cried Selene, tryingto raise herself.
"Have you a lover, child?" asked the widow.
"A lover?--no, but there is a young man with whom we always used to playwhen we were quite little--an artist, a kind, good man--and the nosegaymust be from him."
Hannah looked with sympathy at the girl, and signing to Mary she said:
"The nosegay is a very large one. You may see it, but it must not remainin the room; the smell of so many flowers might do you harm."
Mary rose from her seat at the head of the bed, and whispered to thesick girl:
"Is that the tall gate-keeper's son?" Selene nodded, smiling, and asthe women went away she changed her position from lying on one side,stretched herself out on her back, pressed her hand to her heart, andlooked upwards with a deep sigh. There was a singing in her ears, andflashes of colored light seemed to dance before her closed eyes. Shedrew her breath with difficulty, but still it seemed as though the airshe drew in was full of the perfume of flowers.
Hannah and Mary carried in the enormous bunch of flowers. Selene's eyesshone more brightly, and she clasped her hands in admiration. Then shemade them show her the lovely, richly-tinted and fragrant gift, firston one side and then on the other, buried her face in the flowers, andsecretly kissed the delicate petals of a lovely, half-opened rose-bud.She felt as if intoxicated, and the bright tears flowed in slowsuccession down her cheeks. Mary was the first to detect the broochstuck into the ribbons that tied the stems of the flowers. Sheunfastened it and showed it to Selene, who hastily took it out of herhand. Blushing deeper and deeper, she fixed her eyes on the intagliocarved on the stone of the love god sharpening his arrows. She felther pain no more pain, she felt quite well, and at the same time glad,proud, too happy. Dame Hannah noted her excitement with much anxiety;she nodded to Mary and said:
"Now my daughter, this must do; we will place the flowers outside thewindow so that you may see them."
"Already," said Selene, in a regretful tone, and she broke off a fewviolets and roses from the crowded mass. When she was alone again, shelaid the flowers down and once more tenderly contemplated the figures onthe handsome gem. It had no doubt been engraved by Teuker, the brotherof Pollux. How fine the carving was, how significant the choice of thesubject represented! Only the heavy gold setting disturbed the poorchild, who for so many years had had to stint and contrive with hermoney. She said to herself that it was wrong of the young fellow, who,besides being poor, had to support his sister, to rush into such anoutlay for her. But his gift gave her none the less pleasure, out of herown possessions nothing would have seemed too precious to give him. Shewould teach him to be saving by-and-bye.
The women presently returned after they had with much trouble set upthe nosegay outside the window, and they renewed the wet handkerchiefwithout speaking. She did not in the least want to talk, she waslistening with so much pleasure to the fair promises which her fancywas making, and wherever she turned her eyes they fell on something shecould love, The flowers on her bed, the brooch in her hand, the nosegayoutside the window, and never dreaming that another--not the man sheloved--could have sent it to her, another for whom she cared even lessthan for the Christians who walked up and down in Paulina's garden,under her window. There she lay, full of sweet contentment and secureof a love that had never been hers--of possessing the heart of a man whonever once thought of her, but who, only a few hours since, had rushedoff with her sister, intoxicated with joy and delight. Poor Selene!
And her next dreams were of untroubled happiness, but the minutes flewafter each other, each bringing her nearer to waking--and what a waking!
Her father had not come, as he had intended, to see her before going tothe prefect's house with Arsinoe. His desire to conduct his daughter toJulia in a dress worthy of her prospects had detained him a long time,and even then he had not succeeded in his object. All the weavers, andthe shops were closed, for every workman, whether slave or free, wastaking part in the festivities, and when the hour fixed by the prefectdrew near, his daughter was still sitting in her litter, in her simplewhite dress and her modest peplum, bound with blue ribbon, which lookedeven more insignificant by day than in the evening.
The nosegay which had been given to Arsinoe by Verus gave her muchpleasure, for a girl is always pleased with beautiful flowers--nay, theyhave something in common. As she and her father approached the prefect'shouse Arsinoe grew frightened, and her father could not conceal hisvexation at being obliged to take her to the lady Julia in so modest agarb. Nor was his gloomy humor at all enlivened when he was left to waitin the anteroom while Julia and the wife of Verus, aided by Balbillachose for his daughter the finest colored and costliest stuffs of thesoftest wool, silk, and delicate bombyx tissue. This sort of occupationhas this peculiarity, that the longer time it takes the more assistanceis needed, and the steward had to submit to wait fully two hours in theprefect's anteroom, which gradually grew fuller and fuller of clientsand visitors. At last Arsinoe came back all glowing and full of thebeautiful things that were to be prepared for her.
Her father rose slowly from his easy seat, and as she hastened towardshim the door opened, and through it came Plutarch, freshly wreathed,freshly decked with flowers which were fastened to the breast-folds ofhis gallium, and lifted into the room by his two human crutches. Everyone rose as he came in, and when Keraunus saw that the chief lawyer ofthe city, a man of ancient family, bowed before him, he did likewise.Plutarch's eyesight was stronger than his legs were, and where a prettywoman was to be seen, it was always very keen. He perceived Arsinoe assoon as he had crossed the threshold and waved both hands towards her,as if she were an old and favorite acquaintance.
The sweet child had quite bewitched him; in his younger days hewould have given anything and everything to win her favor; now he wassatisfied to make his favor pleasing to her; he touched her playfullytwo or three times on the arm and said gaily:
"Well pretty Roxana, has dame Julia done well with the dresses?"
"Oh! they have chosen such pretty, such really lovely things!" exclaimedthe girl.
"Have they?" said Plutarch, to conceal by speech the fact that he wasmeditating on some subject; "Have they? and why should they not?"
Arsinoe's washed dress had caught the old man's eye, and rememberingthat Gabinius the curiosity-dealer had that very morning been to him toenquire whether Arsinoe were not in fact one of his work-girls, andto repeat his statement that her father was a beggarly toady, full ofhaughty airs, whose curiosities, of which he contemptuously mentioneda few, were worth nothing, Plutarch was hastily asking himself how hecould best defend his pretty protege against the envious tongues of herrivals; for many spiteful speeches of theirs had already come to hisears.
"Whatever the noble Julia undertakes is always admirably done," he saidaloud, and he added in a whisper: "The day after to-morrow when thegoldsmiths have opened their workshops again, I will see what I can findfor you. I am falling in a heap, hold me up higher Antaeus and Atlas.So.--Yes, my child you look even better from up here than from a lowerlevel. Is the stout man standing behind you your father?"
"Yes."
"Have you no mother?"
"She is dead."
"Oh!" said Plutarch in a tone of regret. Then turning to the steward hesaid:
"Accept my congratulations on having such a daughter Keraunus. I heartoo that you have to supply a mother's place to her."
"Alas sir! she is very like my poor wife, since her death I live ajoyless life."
"But I hear that you take pleasure in collecting rare and beautifulobjects. This is a taste we have in common. Are you inclined to partwith the cup that belonged to my namesake Plutarch? It must be a finepiece of work from what Gabinius tells me."
"That it is," replied the steward proudly. "It was a gift to thephilosopher from Trajan; beautifully carved in ivory. I cannot bear topart with such a gem but," and as he spoke he lowered his voice. "I amunder obligations to you, you have taken charge of my daughter's outfitand to offer you some return I will--"
"That is quite out of the question," interrupted Plutarch, who knew men,and who saw from the steward's pompous pretentiousness that the dealerhad done him no injustice in describing him as overbearing. "You aredoing me an honor by allowing me to contribute what I can towardsdecorating our Roxana. I beg you to send me the cup, and whatever priceyou put upon it, I, of course, shall pay, that is quite understood."
Keraunus had a brief internal conflict with himself. If he had not sosorely needed money, if he had not so keenly desired to see a young andcomely slave walking behind him, he would have adhered to his purpose ofpresenting the cup to Plutarch; as it was he cleared his throat, lookedat the ground, and said with an embarrassed manner and without a traceof his former confidence:
"I remain your debtor, and it seems you do not wish this business to bemixed up with other matters. Well then, I had two thousand drachmae fora sword that belonged to Antony."
"Then certainly," interrupted Plutarch, "the cup, the gift of Trajan,must be worth double, particularly to me who am related to theillustrious owner. May I offer you four thousand drachmae for yourprecious possession?"
"I am anxious to oblige you, and so I say yes," replied the stewardwith much dignity, and he squeezed Arsinoe's little finger, for she wasstanding close to him. Her hand had for some time been touching his intoken of warning that he should adhere to his first intention of makingthe cup a present to Plutarch.
As the pair, so unlike each other, quitted the anteroom, Plutarch lookedafter them with a meaning smile and thought to himself: "That is welldone. How little pleasure I generally have from my riches! How oftenwhen I see a sturdy porter I would willingly change places with him! Butto-day I am glad to have as much money as I could wish. Sweet child! Shemust have a new dress of course for the sake of appearance, but reallyher beauty did not suffer from the washed-out rag of a dress. And shebelongs to me, for I have seen her at the factory among the workwomen,of that I am certain."
Keraunus had gone out with his daughter and once outside the prefect'shouse, he could not help chuckling aloud, while he patted his daughteron the shoulder, and whispered to her:
"I told you so child! we shall be rich yet, we shall rise in life againand need not be behind the other citizens in any thing."
"Yes, father, but it is just because you believe that, that you ought tohave given the cup to the old man."
"No," replied Keraunus, "business is business, but by and bye I willrepay him tenfold for all he does for you now, by giving him my paintingby Apelles. And Julia shall have the pair of sandal-straps set withcut-gems that came off a sandal of Cleopatra's."
Arsinoe looked down, for she knew what these treasures were worth, andsaid:
"We can consider all that later."
Then she and her father got into the litters that had been waiting forthem, and without which Keraunus thought he could no longer exist, andthey were carried to the garden of Pudeus' widow.
Their visit came to interrupt Selene's blissful dreams. Keraunusbehaved with icy coldness to dame Hannah, for it afforded him a certainsatisfaction to make a display of contempt for every thing Christian.When he expressed his regret that Selene should have been obliged toremain in her house, the widow replied:
"She is better here than in the street, at any rate." And when Keraunuswent on to say that he would take nothing as a gift and would pay herfor her care of his daughter, Hannah answered:
"We are happy to do all we can for your child, and Another will rewardus."
"That I certainly forbid," exclaimed the steward wrathfully.
"We do not understand each other," said the Christian pleasantly. "I donot allude to any mortal being, and the reward we work for is not goldand possessions, but the happy consciousness of having mitigated thesufferings of a fellow-creature."
Keraunus shrugged his shoulders, and after desiring Selene to ask thephysician when she might be taken home, he went away.
"I will not leave you here an instant longer than is necessary," he saidas urgently as though she were in some infected house; he kissed herforehead, bowed to Hannah as loftily as though he had just bestowed analms upon her, and departed, without listening to Selene's assurancesthat she was extremely happy and comfortable with the widow.
The ground had long burnt under his feet, and the money in his pocket,he was now possessed of ample means to acquire a good new slave,perhaps, if he threw old Sebek into the bargain, they might even sufficeto procure him a handsome Greek, who might teach the children toread and write. He could direct his first attention to the externalappearance of the new member of his household, if he were a scholaras well, he would feel justified in the high price he expected to beobliged to pay for him.
As Keraunus approached the slave-market he said, not without someconscious emotion at his own paternal devotion:
"All for the credit of the house, all, and only, for the children."
Arsinoe carried out her intention of staying with Selene; her father wasto fetch her on his way home. After he was gone, Hannah and Mary leftthe two sisters together, for they supposed that they must wish todiscuss a variety of things without the presence of strangers.
As soon as the girls were alone Arsinoe began: "Your cheeks are rosy,Selene, and you look cheerful--ah! and I, I am so happy--so happy!"
"Because you are to fill the part of Roxana?"
"That is very nice too, and who would have thought only yesterdaymorning that we should be so rich today. We hardly know what to do withall the money."
"We?"
"Yes, for father has sold two objects out of his collection for sixthousand drachmae."
"Oh!" cried Selene clasping her hands, "then we can pay our mostpressing debts."
"To be sure, but that is not nearly all."
"No?"
"Where shall I begin? Ah! Selene, my heart is so full. I am tired, andyet I could dance and sing and shout all day and all the night throughtill to-morrow. When I think how happy I am, my head turns, and I feelas if I must use all my self-control to keep myself from turning giddy.You do not know yet how you feel when the arrow of Eros has pierced you.Ah! I love Pollux so much, and he loves me too."
At these words all the color fled from Selene's cheeks, and her palelips brought out the words:
"Pollux? The son of Euphorion, Pollux the sculptor?"
"Yes, our dear, kind, tall Pollux!" cried Arsinoe. "Now prick up yourears, and you shall hear how it all came to pass. Last night on our wayto see you he confessed how much he loved me, and now you must advise mehow to win over my father to our side, and very soon too. By-and-bye hewill of course say yes, for Pollux can do anything he wants, and someday he will be a great man, as great as Papias, and Aristaeus,and Kealkes all put together. His youthful trick with that sillycaricature--but how pale you are, Selene!"
"It is nothing--nothing at all--a pain--go on," said Selene.
"Dame Hannah begged me not to let you talk much."
"Only tell me everything; I will be quiet."
"Well, you have seen the lovely head of mother that he made," Arsinoewent on. "Standing by that we saw each other and talked for the firsttime after long years, and I felt directly that there was not a dearerman than he in the whole world, wide as it is. And he fell in love toowith a stupid little thing like me. Yesterday evening he came here withme; and then as I went home, taking his arm in the dark through thestreets, then--Oh, Selene, it was splendid, delightful! You cannotimagine!--Does your foot hurt you very muc
h, poor dear? Your eyes arefull of tears."
"Go on, tell me all, go on."
And Arsinoe did as she was desired, sparing the poor girl nothing thatcould widen and deepen the wound in her soul. Full of rapturous memoriesshe described the place in the streets where Pollux had first kissedher. The shrubs in the garden where she had flung herself into his arms,her blissful walk in the moonlight, and all the crowd assembled forthe festival, and finally how, possessed by the god, they had togetherjoined the procession, and danced through the streets. She described,with tears in her eyes, how painful their parting had been, and laughedagain, as she told how an ivy leaf in her hair had nearly betrayedeverything to her father. So she talked and talked, and there wassomething that intoxicated her in her own words.
How they were affecting Selene she did not observe. How could she knowthat it was her narrative and no other suffering which made her sister'slips quiver so sorrowfully? Then, when she went on to speak of thesplendid garments which Julia was having made for her, the sufferinggirl listened with only half an ear, but her attention revived when sheheard how much old Plutarch had offered for the ivory cup, and that herfather proposed to exchange their old slave for a more active one.
"Our good black mouse-catching old stork looks shabby enough it istrue," said Arsinoe, "still I am very sorry he should go away. If youhad been at home, perhaps father would have waited to consider."
Selene laughed drily, and her lips curled scornfully as she said:
"That is the way! go on! two days before you are turned out of house andhome you ride in a chariot and pair!"
"You always see the worst side," said Arsinoe with annoyance. "I tellyou it will all turn out far better and nicer and more happily than weexpect. As soon as we are a little richer we will buy back the old man,and keep him and feed him till he dies."
Selene shrugged her shoulders, and her sister jumped up from her seatwith her eyes full of tears. She had been so happy in telling how happyshe was that she firmly believed that her story must bring brightnessinto the gloom of the sick girl's soul, like sunshine after a darknight; and Selene had nothing to give her but scornful words and looks.If a friend refuses to share in joys it is hardly less wounding than ifhe were to abandon us in trouble.
"How you always contrive to embitter my happiness!" cried Arsinoe. "Iknow very well that nothing that I can do can ever be right in youreyes; still, we are sisters, and you need not set your teeth and grudgeyour words, and shrug your shoulders when I tell you of things which,even a stranger, if I were to confide them to her, would rejoice overwith me. You are so cold and heartless! I dare say you will betray me tomy father--"
But Arsinoe did not finish her sentence, for Selene looked up at herwith a mixture of suffering and alarm, and said:
"I cannot be glad--I am in too much pain." As she spoke the tears randown her cheeks and as soon as Arsinoe saw them she felt a return ofpity for the sick girl, bent over and kissed her cheeks once, twice,thrice; but Selene pushed her aside and murmured piteously:
"Leave me--pray leave me; go away, I can bear it no longer." She turnedher face to the wall, sobbing aloud. Arsinoe attempted once more to showher some marks of affection, but her sister pushed her away still moredecidedly, crying out loudly, as if in desperation: "I shall die if youdo not leave me alone."
And the happier girl, whose best offerings were thus disdained by heronly female friend, went weeping away to await her father's returnoutside the door of the widow's house.
When Hannah went to lay fresh handkerchiefs on Selene's wounds she sawthat she had been crying, but she did not enquire into the reason of hertears. Towards evening the widow explained to her patient that she mustleave her alone for half an hour, for that she and Mary were going outto pray to their God with their brethren and sisters, and they wouldpray for her also.
"Leave me, only leave me," said Selene, "as it is, so it is--there areno gods."
"Gods?" replied Hannah. "No. But there is one good and loving Father inHeaven, and you soon shall learn to know him."
"I know him, well!" muttered the sick girl with keen irony.
No sooner was she alone than she sat up in bed, and flung the flowers,which had been lying on it, far from her across the room, twisted thepin of the brooch till it was broken, and did not stir a finger to savethe gold setting and engraved stone when they fell between the bed andwall of the room. Then she lay staring at the ceiling, and did not stiragain. It was now quite dark. The lilies and honeysuckle in the greatnosegay outside the window began to smell more strongly, and theirperfume forced itself inexorably on her senses, rendered painfullyacute by fever. She perceived it at every breath she drew, and not fora minute would it let her forget her wrecked happiness, and thewretchedness of her heart, till the heavy sweetness of the flowersbecame more unendurable than the most pungent odor, and she drew thecoverlet over her head to escape this new torment; but she soon castit off again, for she thought she should be suffocated under it. Anintolerable restlessness took possession of her, while the pain in herinjured foot throbbed madly, the cut in her head seemed to burn, and hertemples beat with an agonizing headache that contracted the musclesof her eyes. Every nerve in her body, every thought of her brain was aseparate torture, and at the same time she felt herself without a stay,without protection, and wholly abandoned to some cruel influence,which tossed and tore her soul as the storm tosses the crowns of thepalm-trees.
Without tears, incapable of lying still and yet punished for theslightest movement by some fresh pain, racked in every joint, not strongenough in her bewilderment to carry through a single connected thought,and yet firmly convinced that the perfume she was forced to inhale atevery breath was poisoning her--destroying her--driving her mad--shelifted her damaged foot out of bed, dragged the other after it, and satup on her couch regardless of the pain she felt, and the warnings of thephysician. Her long hair fell dishevelled over her face, her arms, andher hands, in which she held her aching head; and in this new attitudethe excitement of her brain and heart took fresh development.
She sat gazing at the floor with a freezing gaze, and bitter enmitytowards her sister, hatred towards Pollux, contempt for her father'smiserable weakness, and her own utter blindness, rang wild changes inher soul. Outside all lay in peaceful calm, and from the house in whichPaulina lived the evening breeze now and again bore the pure tones ofa pious hymn upon her ear. Selene never heeded it, but as the same airwafted the scent of the flowers in her face even stronger than before,she clutched her hair in her fingers and pulled it so violently that sheactually groaned with the pain she gave herself.
The question as to whether her hair was less abundant and beautiful thanher sister's suddenly occurred to her, and like a flash in the darknessthe wish shot through her soul that she could fling Arsinoe to theground by the hair, with the hand which was now hurting herself.
That perfume! that horrible perfume!
She could bear it no longer. She stood up on her uninjured foot, andwith very short steps she dragged herself half crying to the window,and flung the nosegay with the great jar of burnt clay down on tothe ground. The vessel was broken.--It had cost poor Hannah manyhardly-saved pieces not long since. Selene stood on one foot, leaning,to recover herself, against the right-hand post of the window-opening,and there she could hear more distinctly than from her couch, the voiceof the waves as they broke on the stone quay just behind dame Hannah'slittle house. The child of the Lochias was familiar with their tones,but the clashing and gurgling of the cool, moist element against thestones had never affected her before as they did now. Her fevered bloodwas on fire, her foot was burning, her head was hot, and hatred seemedto consume her soul as in a slow fire; she felt as if every wave thatbroke upon the seawall was calling out to her: "I am cool, I am moist, Ican extinguish the flame that is consuming you. I can refresh and reviveyou."
What had the world to offer her but new torment and new misery? Butthe sea--the blue dark sea was wide, and cold, and deep, and its wavespromised her i
n insidious tones to relieve her at once of the rage ofher fever, and of the burden of her life. Selene did not pause, did notreflect; she remembered neither the children whom she had so longcared for as a mother, nor her father, whose comfort and support shewas--vague voices in her brain seemed to be whispering to her that theworld was evil and cruel, and the abode of all the torment and care thatgnawed at her heart. She felt as if she had been plunged to the templesin a pool of fire, and, like some poor wretch whose garments have beencaught by the flames, she had an instinct to fly to the water, at thebottom of which she might hope to find the fulfilment of her utmostlonging, sweet cold death, in which all is forgotten.
Groaning and tottering she pushed her way through the door into thegarden and hobbled down to the sea, grasping her temples in her hands.