CHAPTER XV.
The town was out of danger; the fire was extinct. Pontius had taken norest till noonday. Three horses had he tired out and replaced by freshones, but his sinewy frame and healthy courage had till now defied everystrain. As soon as he could consider his task at an end he went off tohis own house, and he needed rest; but in the hall of his residence healready found a number of persons waiting, and who were likely to standbetween him and the enjoyment of it.
A man who lives in the midst of important undertakings cannot, withimpunity, leave his work to take care of itself for several days. Allthe claims upon him become pent up, and when he returns home they delugehim like water when the sluice-gates are suddenly opened behind which ithas been dammed up.
At least twenty persons, who had heard of the architect's return, werewaiting for him in his outer hall, and crowded upon him as soon as heappeared. Among them he saw several who had come on important business,but he felt that he had reached the farthest limit of his strength, andhe was determined to secure a little rest at any cost. The grave man'snatural consideration, usually so conspicuous, could not hold outagainst the demands made on his endurance, and he angrily and peevishlypointed to his begrimed face as he made his way through the peoplewaiting for him.
"To-morrow, to-morrow," he cried; "nay, if necessary, to-day, aftersunset. But now I need rest. Rest! Rest! Why, you yourselves can see thestate I am in."
All--even the master-masons and purveyors who had come on urgentaffairs, drew back; only one elderly man, his sister Paulina'shouse-steward, caught hold of his chiton, stained as it was with smokeand scorched in many places, and said quickly and in a low tone:
"My mistress greets you; she has things to speak of to you which willbear no delay; I am not to leave you till you have promised to go to seeher to-day. Our chariot waits for you at the garden-door."
"Send it home," said Pontius, not even civilly; "Paulina must wait a fewhours."
"But my orders are to take you with me at once."
"But in this state--so--I cannot go with you," cried the architectwith vehemence. "Have you no sort of consideration? And yet--who cantell--well, tell her I will be with her in two hours."
When Pontius had fairly escaped the throng he took a bath; then he hadsome food brought to him, but even while he ate and drank, he was notunoccupied, for he read the letters which awaited him, and examined somedrawings which his assistants had prepared during his absence.
"Give yourself an hour's respite," said the old housekeeper, who hadbeen his nurse and who loved him as her own son.
"I must go to my sister," he answered with a shrug. "We know her ofold," said the old woman. "For nothing, and less than nothing, she hassent for you be fore now; and you absolutely need rest. There--are yourcushions right--so? And let me ask you, has the humblest stone-carrierso hard a life as you have? Even at meals you never have an hour ofpeace and comfort. Your poor head is never quiet; the nights are turnedinto day; something to do, always something to do. If one only knew whoit is all for?"
"Aye--who for, indeed?" sighed Pontius, pushing his arm under his head,between it and the pillow. "But, you see, little mother, work mustfollow rest as surely as day follows night or summer follows winter. Theman who has something he loves in the House--a wife and merry children,it may be, for aught I care--who sweeten his hours of rest and makethem the best of all the day, he, I say is wise when he tries to prolongthem; but his case is not mine--"
"But why is it not yours, my son Pontius?"
"Let me finish my speech. I, as you know full well, do not care forgossip in the bath nor for reclining long over a banquet. In thepauses of my work I am alone, with myself and with you, my very worthyLeukippe. So the hours of rest are not for me the fairest scenes, butempty waits between the acts of the drama of life; and no reasonable mancan find fault with me for trying to abridge them by useful occupation."
"And what is the upshot of this sensible talk? Simply this: you must getmarried."
Pontius sighed, but Leukippe added eagerly:
"You have not far to look! The most respectable fathers and mothers arerunning after you and would bring their prettiest daughters into yourdoor."
"A daughter whom I do not know, and who might perhaps spoil the pausesbetween the acts, which at present I can at any rate turn to someaccount."
"They say," the old woman went on, "that marriage is a cast of the dice.One throws a high number, another a low one; one wins a wife who is amatch for the busy bee, another gets a tiresome gnat. No doubt thereis some truth in it; but I have grown grey with my eyes open and I haveoften seen it happen, that how the marriage turned out depended on thehusband. A man like you makes a bee out of a gnat--a bee that bringshoney to the hive. Of course a man must choose carefully."
"How, pray?"
"First see the parents and then the child. A girl who has grown upsurrounded by good habits, in the house of a sensible father and avirtuous mother--"
"And where in this city am I to find such a miracle? Nay, nay, Leukippe,for the present all shall be left to my old woman. We both do our duty,we are satisfied with each other and--"
"And time is flying," said the housekeeper, interrupting her master inhis speech. "You are nearly thirty-five years of age, and the girls--"
"Let them be! let them be! They will find other men! Now send Cyrus withmy shoes and cloak, and have my litter got ready, for Paulina has beenkept waiting long enough."
The way from the architect's house to his sister's was long, and onhis way he found ample time for reflection on various matters besidesLeukippe's advice to marry. Still, it was a woman's face and formthat possessed him heart and soul; at first, however, he did not feelinclined to feast his fancy on Balbilla's image, lovely as it appearedto him; on the contrary, with self-inflicted severity he soughteverything in her which could be thought to be opposed to the higheststandard of feminine perfections. Nor did he find it difficult to detectmany defects and deficiencies in the Roman damsel; still he was forcedto admit that they were quite inseparable from her character, and thatshe would no longer be what she was, if she were wholly free from them.Each of her little weaknesses presently began to appear as an additionalcharm to the stern man who had himself been brought up in the doctrineof the Stoics.
He had learnt by experience that sorrow must cast its shadow over theexistence of every human being; but still, the man to whom it should bevouchsafed to walk through life hand-in-hand with this radiant child offortune could, as it seemed to him, have nothing to look forward to butpure sunshine. During his journey to Pelusium and his stay there he hadoften thought of her, and each time that her image had appeared to hisinward eye he had felt as though daylight had shone in his soul. To havemet her he regarded as the greatest joy of his life, but he dared notaspire to claim her as his own.
He did not undervalue himself and knew that he might well be proud ofthe position he had won by his own industry and talents; and stillshe was the grandchild of the man who had had the right to sell hisgrandfather for mere coin, and was so high-born, rich and distinguishedthat he would have thought it hardly more audacious to ask the Emperorwhat he would take for the purple than to woo her. But to shelter her,to warn her, to allow his soul to be refreshed by the sight of her andby her talk--this he felt was permissible, this happiness no one coulddeprive him of. And this she would grant him--she esteemed him and wouldgive him the right to protect her, this he felt, with thankfulness andjoy. He would, then and there, have gone through the exertions of thelast few hours all over again if he could have been certain that heshould once more be refreshed with the draught of water from her hand.Only to think of her and of her sweetness seemed greater happiness thanthe possession of any other woman.
As he got out of his litter at the door of his sister's town-house heshook his head, smiling at himself; for he confessed to himself thatthe whole of the long distance he had hardly thought of anything butBalbilla.
Paulina's house had but few windows opening upo
n the street and thesebelonged to the strangers' rooms, and yet his arrival had been observed.A window at the side of the house, all grown round with creepers, framedin a sweet girlish head which looked down from it inquisitively on thebustle in the street. Pontius did not notice it, but Arsinoe--for it washer pretty face that looked out--at once recognized the architect whomshe had seen at Lochias and of whom Pollux had spoken as his friend andpatron.
She had now, for a week, been living with the rich widow; she wantedfor nothing, and yet her soul longed with all its might to be out in thecity, and to inquire for Pollux and his parents, of whom she had heardnothing since the day of her father's death. Her lover was no doubtseeking her with anxiety and sorrow; but how was he to find her?
Three days after her arrival she had discovered the little window fromwhich she had a view of the street. There was plenty to be seen, forit led to the Hippodrome and was never empty of foot-passengers andchariots that were proceeding thither or to Necropolis. No doubt it wasa pleasure to her to watch the fine horses and garlanded youths and menwho passed by Paulina's house; but it was not merely to amuse herselfthat she went to the bowery little opening; no, she hoped, on thecontrary, that she might once see her Pollux, his father, his mother,his bother Teuker or some one else they knew pass by her new home. Thenshe might perhaps succeed in calling them, in asking what had becomeof her friends, and in begging them to let her lover know where to seekher.
Her adoptive mother had twice found her at the window and had forbiddenher, not unkindly but very positively, to look out into the street.Arsinoe had followed her unresistingly into the interior of the house,but as soon as she knew that Paulina was out or engaged, she slippedback to the window again and looked out for him, who must at every hourof the day be thinking of her. And she was not happy amid her new andwealthy surroundings. At first she had found it very pleasant to stretchher limbs on Paulina's soft cushions, not to stir a finger to helpherself, to eat the best of food and to have neither to attend to thechildren nor to labor in the horrible papyrus-factory; but by the thirdday she pined for liberty--and still more for the children, for Seleneand Pollux. Once she went out driving with Paulina in a covered carriagefor the first time in her life. As the horses started she had enjoyedthe rapid movement and had leaned out at one side to see the houses andmen flying past her; but Paulina had regarded this as not correct--asshe did so many other things that she herself thought right andpermissible--had desired her to draw in her head, and had told herthat a well-conducted girl must sit with her eyes in her lap when outdriving.
Paulina was kind, never was irritable, had her dressed and waited uponlike her own daughter, kissed her in the morning and when she bid hergood-night; and yet Arsinoe had never once thought of Paulina's demandthat she should love her. The proud woman, who was so cool in all thefriendly relations of life, and who, as she felt was always watchingher, was to her only a stranger who had her in her power. The fairestsentiments of her soul she must always keep locked up from her.
Once, when Paulina, with tears in her eyes had spoken to her of her lostdaughter, Arsinoe had been softened and following the impulse of herheart, had confided to her that she loved Pollux the sculptor and hopedto be his wife.
"You love a maker of images!" Paulina had exclaimed, with as much horroras if she had seen a toad; then she had paced uneasily up and down andhad added with her usual calm decision:
"No, no, my child! you will forget all this as soon as possible; I knowof a nobler Bridegroom for you; when once you have learned to know Himyou will never long for any other. Have you seen one single image inthis house?"
"No," replied Arsinoe, "but so far as regards Pollux--"
"Listen to me" said the widow, "have I not told you of our loving Fatherin Heaven? Have I not told you that the gods of the heathen are unrealbeings which the vain imaginings of fools have endowed with all theweaknesses and crimes of humanity? Can you not understand how silly itis to pray to stones? What power can reside in these frail figures ofbrass or marble?
"Idols we call them. He who carves them, serves them and offerssacrifice to them; aye and a great sacrifice, for he devotes his bestpowers, to their service. Do you understand me?"
"No--Art is certainly a lofty thing, and Pollux is a good man, full ofthe divinity as he works."
"Wait a while, only wait--you will soon learn to understand," Paulinahad answered, drawing Arsinoe towards her, and had added, at firstspeaking gently but then more sternly: "Now go to bed and pray to yourgracious Father in Heaven that he may enlighten your heart. You mustforget the carved image-maker, and I forbid you ever to speak in mypresence again of such a man."
Arsinoe had grown up a heathen, she clung with affection to the gods ofher fathers and hoped for happier days after the first bitterness of theloss of her father and the separation from her brothers and sisters waspast. She was little disposed to sacrifice her young love and allher earthly happiness for spiritual advantages of which she scarcelycomprehended the value. Her father had always spoken of the Christianswith hatred and contempt. She now saw that they could be kind andhelpful, and the doctrine that there was a loving God in Heaven whocared for all men as his children appealed to her soul; but that weought to forgive our enemies, to remember our sins, and to repent ofthem, and to regard all the pleasure and amusement which the gay cityof Alexandria could offer as base and worthless--this was absurd andfoolish.
And what great sins had she committed? Could a loving God require ofher that she should mar all her best days because as a child she hadpilfered a cake or broken a pitcher; or, as she grew older had sometimesbeen obstinate or disobedient? Surely not. And then was an artist, akind faithful soul like her tall Pollux, to be odious in the eyes of Godthe Father of all, because he was able to make such wonderful things asthat head of her mother, for instance? If this really was so she wouldrather, a thousand times rather, lift her hands in prayer to the smilingAphrodite, roguish Eros, beautiful Apollo, and all the nine Muses whoprotected her Pollux, than to Him.
An obscure aversion rose up in her soul against the stern woman whocould not understand her, and of whose teaching and admonitions shescarcely took in half; and she rejected many a word of the widow's whichmight otherwise easily have found room in her heart, only because it wasspoken by the cold-mannered woman who at every hour seemed to try to laysome fresh restraint upon her.
Paulina had never yet taken her with her to of the Christian assembliesin her suburban villa; wished first to prepare her and to open her soulto salvation. In this task no teacher of the congregation should assisther. She, and she alone, should win to the Redeemer the soul of thisfair creature that had walked so resolutely in the ways of the heathen;this was required of her as the condition of the covenant that she feltshe had made with Him, it was with the price of this labor that shehoped to purchase her own child's eternal happiness. Day after day shehad Arsinoe into her own room, that was decked with flowers and withChristian symbols, and devoted several hours to her instruction. But herdisciple proved less impressionable and less attentive every day; whilePaulina was speaking Arsinoe was thinking of Pollux, of the children, ofthe festival prepared for the Emperor or of the beautiful dress shewas to have worn as Roxana. She wondered what young girl would fill herplace, and how she could ever hope to see her lover again. And it wasthe same during Paulina's prayers as during her instruction, prayersthat often lasted more than hour, and which she had to attend, on herknees on Wednesday and Friday, and with hands uplifted on all the otherdays of the week.
When her adoptive mother had discovered how often she looked out intothe street she thought she had found out the reason of her pupil'sdistracted attention and only waited the return of her brother, thearchitect, in order to have the window blocked up.
As Pontius entered the lofty hall of his sister's house, Arsinoe came tomeet him. Her cheeks were flushed, she had hurried to fly down as fastas possible from her window to the ground floor, in order to speak tothe architect before he went into the inner ro
oms or had talked withhis sister, and she looked lovelier than ever. Pontius gazed at her withdelight. He knew that he had seen this sweet face before, but hecould not at once remember where; for a face we have met with onlyincidentally is not easily recognized when we find it again where we donot expect it.
Arsinoe did not give him time to speak to her, for she went straight upto him, greeted him, and asked timidly:
"You do not remember who I am?"
"Yes, yes," said the architect, "and yet--for the moment--"
"I am the daughter of Keraunus, the palace-steward at Lochias, but youknow of course!"
"To be sure, to be sure! Arsinoe is your name; I was asking to-day afteryour father and heard to my great regret--"
"He is dead."
"Poor child! How everything has changed in the old palace since Iwent away. The gate-house is swept away, there is a new steward andthere-but, tell me how came you here?"
"My father left us nothing and Christians took its in. There were eightof us."
"And my sister shelters you all?"
"No, no; one has been taken into one house and others into others. Weshall never be together again." And as she spoke the tears ran downArsinoe's cheeks; but she promptly recovered herself, and before Pontiuscould express his sympathy she went on:
"I want to ask of you a favor; let me speak before any one disturbs us."
"Speak, my child."
"You know Pollux--the sculptor Pollux?"
"Certainly."
"And you were always kindly disposed toward him?"
"He is a good man and an excellent artist."
"Aye that he is, and besides all that--may I tell you something and willyou stand by me?"
"Gladly, so far as lies in my power."
Arsinoe looked down at the ground in charming and blushing confusion andsaid in a low tone:
"We love each other--I am to be his wife."
"Accept my best wishes."
"Ah, if only we had got as far as that! But since my father's death wehave not seen each other. I do not know where he and his parents are,and how are they ever to find me here?"
"Write to him."
"I cannot write well, and even if I could my messenger--"
"Has my sister had any search made for him?"
"No--oh, no. I may not even let his name pass my lips. She wants to giveme to some one else; she says that making statues is hateful to the Godof the Christians."
"Does she? And you want me to seek your lover?"
"Yes, yes, my dear lord! and if you find him tell him I shall be aloneto-morrow early, and again towards evening, every day indeed, for thenyour sister goes to serve her God in her country house."
"So you want to make me a lover's go-between. You could not find a moreinexperienced one."
"Ah! noble Pontius, if you have a heart--"
"Let me speak to the end, child! I will seek your lover, and if I findhim he shall know where you are, but I cannot and will not invite himto an assignation here behind my sister's back. He shall come openly toPaulina and prefer his suit. If she refuses her consent I will try totake the matter in hand with Paulina. Are you satisfied with this?"
"I must need be. And tell me, you will let me know when you have foundout where he and his parents have gone?"
"That I promise you. And now tell the one thing. Are you happy in thishouse?"
Arsinoe looked down in some embarrassment, then she hastily shook herhead in vehement negation and hurried away. Pontius looked after herwith compassion and sympathy.
"Poor, pretty little creature!" he murmured to himself, and went on tohis sister's room.
The house-steward had announced his visit, and Paulina met him on thethreshold. In his sister's sitting-room the architect found Eumenes, thebishop, a dignified old man with clear, kind eyes.
"Your name is in everybody's mouth to-day," said Paulina, "after theusual greetings. They say you did wonders last night."
"I got home very tired," said Pontius, "but as you so pressingly desiredto speak to me, I shortened my hours of rest."
"How sorry I am!" exclaimed the widow.
The bishop perceived that the brother and sister had business to discusstogether, and asked whether he were not interrupting it.
"On the contrary," cried Paulina. "The subject under discussion is mynewly-adopted daughter who, unhappily, has her head full of silly anduseless things. She tells me she has seen you at Lochias, Pontius."
"Yes, I know the pretty child."
"Yes, she is lovely to look upon," said the widow. "But her heart andmind have been left wholly untrained, and in her the doctrine falls uponstony ground, for she avails herself of every unoccupied moment to stareat the horsemen and chariots that pass on the way to the Hippodrome. Bythis inquisitive gaping she fills her head with a thousand useless anddistracting fancies; I am not always at home, and so it will be best tohave the pernicious window walled up."
"And did you send for me only to have that done?" cried Pontius, muchannoyed. "Your house-slaves, I should think, might have been equal tothat without my assistance."
"Perhaps, but then the wall would have to be freshly whitewashed--I knowhow obliging you always are."
"Thank you very much. To-morrow I will send you two regular workmen."
"Nay, to-day, at once if possible."
"Are you in such pressing haste to spoil the poor child's amusement? Andbesides I cannot but think that it is not to stare at the horsemen andchariots that she looks out, but to see her worthy lover."
"So much the worse. I was telling you, Eumenes, that a sculptor wants tomarry her."
"She is a heathen," replied the bishop.
"But on the road to salvation," answered Paulina. "But we will speak ofthat presently. There is still something else to discuss, Pontius. Thehall of my country villa must be enlarged."
"Then send me the plans."
"They are in the book-room of my late husband." The architect left hissister to go into the library, which he knew well.
As soon as the bishop was left alone with Paulina, he shook his head andsaid:
"If I judge rightly, my dear sister, you are going the wrong way to workin leading this child intrusted to your care. Not all are called, andrebellious hearts must be led along the path of salvation with a gentlehand, not dragged and driven. Why do you cut off this girl, who stillstands with both feet in the world, from all that can give her pleasure?Allow the young creature to enjoy every permitted pleasure which can addto the joys of life in youth. Do not hurt Arsinoe needlessly, do not lether feel the hand that guides her. First teach her to love you from herheart, and when she knows nothing dearer than you, a request from youwill be worth more than bolts or walled-up windows."
"At first I wished nothing more than that she should love me,"interrupted Paulina.
"But have you proved her? Do you see in her the spark which may befanned to a flame? Have you detected in her the germ which may possiblygrow to a strong desire for salvation and to devotion to the Redeemer?"
"That germ exists in every heart-these are your own words."
"But in many of the heathen it is deeply buried in sand and stories; anddo you feel yourself equal to clearing them away without injury to theseed or to the soil in which it lies?"
"I do, and I will win Arsinoe to Jesus Christ," said Paulina firmly.
Pontius interrupted the conversation; he remained with his sister sometime longer discussing with her and with Eumenes the new building to bedone at her country house; then he and the bishop left at the same timeand Pontius proceeded to the scene of the fire by the harbor and in theold palace.