CHAPTER XXIII.
Paula now understood what hung over her. It is Bishop John who had toldher, as gently as he could, and with every assurance that he still clungto the hope that he could stop the hideous heathen abomination; buteven without this she would certainly have known what was impending,for large crowds of people gathered every day under the prisonwalls, andloud cries reached her, demanding to see the "Bride of the Nile."
Now and again shouts of "Hail!" came up to her; but when the dementedcreatures had shrieked themselves hoarse, and in vain, they would abuseher vilely. The cry for the "Bride" never ceased from morning tillnight, and the head warder of the prison was glad that the bishop hadrelieved him of the task of explaining to Paula the meaning of thefateful word, whose significance she had repeatedly asked him.
At first this fresh and terrible peril had startled and shaken her; butshe did her utmost to cling to the hope held out by the bishop so asto appear calm, and as far as possible cheerful, in her sick father'spresence. And in this she succeeded so long as it was day; but at nightshe was a prey to agonizing terrors. Then, in fancy she saw herselfsurrounded by a raging mob, dragged to the river and cast into a waterygrave before a thousand eyes. Then, prayer was of no avail, nor anyresolve or effort; not the tender messages that constantly reached herfrom Orion, nor the songs he would sing for her in the brief moments ofleisure he allowed himself; not the bishop's words of comfort, nor thevisits of those she loved. The warder would admit her friends as oftenas he was able; and among those who found their way to her cell were theSenator Justinus and his wife.
By great good fortune Martina had quitted Susannah's house as soonas the two slaves had fallen ill and she had heard that the physicianpronounced them to be sickening of the plague. She had returned to herrooms in the inn kept by Sostratus, but her nephew Narses had remainedwith Katharina and her mother. He was indeed intending to follow herwith Heliodora; but, by the time they were ready to set out, Susannah,too, had fallen a victim to the pestilence and the authorities hadforbidden all egress from her house.
Heliodora might have succeeded in leaving in time, alone; but she wouldnot abandon her unfortunate brother-in-law; for he never felt easy butin her presence, would allow no one else to wait on him, and would takeneither food nor drink unless they were offered him by her. Besidesthis, the cavalry officer, once so stalwart, had in his weakness becomepathetically like her lost husband, and she knew that Narses had beenthe first to love her, and that it was only for his brother's sake thathe had concealed his passion. Her motherly instincts found an outletin the care of the half-crushed, but not hopelessly lost man; and thedesire to drag him back to life kept her busy day and night, and madeher regard everything else as trivial and of secondary importance. Herlife had once more found a purpose; her efforts were for an attainableend, and she devoted herself to him body and soul.
Her uncle had told her that Orion was bound to Paula by a supremepassion.--This had been a painful blow, but the Syrian girl hadimpressed her; she looked up to her, and it soothed her woundedself-esteem to reflect that she had lost her lover to no inferior woman.Though her longing for him still surged up in many a silent hour, shefelt it an injustice, a stint of love to her invalid charge.
So far as Katharina was concerned, next to her mother, Heliodora was theobject of her deepest anxiety. The least word of complaint from eitherterrified her; and if Susannah sank on the divan exhausted by the heat,or Heliodora had a headache after watching through the night by the sickman, the girl would turn pale, her heart would beat painfully, she wouldpaint them in fancy stricken by the plague, with burning brows and thehorrible, fatal spots on their foreheads and cheeks; and whenever thesealarms pressed on the young criminal she felt the ominous weight on thetop of her head where the dead bishop's hand had rested.
The senator's wife had so completely changed in her demeanor to thewater-wagtail, since Paula's imprisonment, that to Katharina she wasas a living reproach, so she had no regret at seeing the worthy pairdepart. But scarcely had they left when misfortune took their place asan unbidden guest.
The slave whose duty it was to heat the baths had reserved a portion ofthe infected garments that had been given to him to burn; his son hadhelped him, and Katharina's nurse, the mother of her foster-brotherAnubis, had come into direct contact with her immediately after herreturn from the soothsayer's and from the bishop's. All three had caughtthe disease. They had all three been removed to the hospital tents--theslave and the nurse as corpses.
But had the fearful infection been taken away with them? If not, itwould be the turn next of those whom she herself had pushed into thearms of the fell monster: First Heliodora, and then her mother! Andshe, rightfully, ought to have fallen before them; and if the pestilenceshould seize her and death should drag her down into the grave it wouldbe showing her mercy. She was still so young, and yet she hated life. Ithad nothing in store for her but humiliation and disappointment, arrowswhich, sent from the prison, pierced her to the heart, and a torturingfear which never gave her any peace, day or night.
When the physician came to transport the sick to the hospital in thedesert, he mentioned incidentally that the judges had condemned Paulato death, and that the populace and senate, in spite of the new bishop'sprohibition, had determined to cast her into the river in accordancewith an ancient custom. Orion's fate was not to be decided till thefollowing day; but it would hardly be to his advantage in the eyes ofhis Jacobite judges, that his betrothed was this Syrian Melchite.
At this Katharina was forced to support herself against her mother'sarm-chair to save herself from sinking on her knees; with tinglingcheeks she questioned the leech till he lost all patience and turnedaway much annoyed at such excessive feminine curiosity.
Yes! "The other" was his betrothed before all the world; but only todie! The blood rushed through her veins in a hot tide at the thought;she could have laughed aloud and fallen on the neck of every one shemet. What she felt was hideous; malignant spite possessed her; but itgave her rapture--delicious rapture--a flower of hell, but with splendidpetals and intoxicating perfume. But its splendor dazzled her and itsfragrance presently sickened her. Sheer horror of herself came overher, and yet she could have shouted with joy each time that the thoughtflashed through her brain: "The other must die!"
Her mother feared that her daughter, too, was about to fall ill,her eyes glowed so strangely and she was so restless and nervouslyexcitable.
Since Heliodora had taken the overwhelming news of Orion's betrothalto Paula with astonishing though sorrowful calmness, to the hot-bloodedgirl she was nothing, nobody, utterly unworthy of her notice.
To spite her she had committed a crime as like murder as one snake islike another, and imperilled her own mother's life! It was enough todrive her to despair, to make her scourge herself with rods!
When Susannah kissed her at parting for the night she complained of aslight sore throat and of her lips, which she fancied must be swollen.Katharina detained her, questioned her with a trembling voice, put thelamp close to her, and held her breath while she examined her face, herneck, and her arms for the dreadful spots. But none were to be seen andher mother laughed at her terrors, called her a dutiful, anxious child,and warned her not to be too full of fears, as they were supposed toinvite the disease.
All night the girl could not sleep. Her malicious triumph was past;nothing but painful thoughts and grewsome images haunted her whileawake, and pursued her more persistently when she dozed. By dawn of dayher alarm for her mother was so great that she sprang out of bed andwent to her room; Susannah was sleeping so soundly that she did not evenhear her. Much relieved Katharina crept back to bed; but in the morningthe worst had happened: Susannah could no longer leave her bed; she wasfeverish, and on her lips, the very lips which had kissed her child'sinfected hair, there were indeed, between her nose and mouth, the firstterrible, unmistakable spots.
The leech came and confirmed the fact.--The house was closed and barred.
The phy
sician and Susannah, who was still in full possession of hersenses, wished and insisted that Katharina should withdraw to thegardener's house, but she refused with defiant obstinacy, saying shewould rather die with her mother than leave her.
Quite beside herself she threw herself on the sick woman, and kissedthe spots on her mouth to divert the poison into her own blood; but thephysician angrily pulled her away, and the sufferer reproved her withtears in her eyes which spoke her fervent affection.
She was now allowed to nurse her mother. Two nuns came to herassistance, and said, not only to the rich widow but behind her back,that they had never seen so devoted and loving a daughter. Even BishopJohn, who did not shrink from entering the houses of the sick to givethem spiritual consolation, praised Katharina's conduct; and he, who hadhitherto regarded the water-wagtail as no more than a bright, restlesschild, treated her with respect, talked to her as to a grown-upperson, and answered her questions--which for the most part referred toPaula--gravely and fully.
The prelate, who was full of admiration for Thomas' daughter, toldKatharina how, to save her lover, she had taken a crime upon herselfwhich deprived her of every claim to mercy. The Syrian girl was only aMelchite, but to take another's guilt, out of love, was treading indeedin the footsteps of Christ, if ever anything was. At this Katharinashrugged her shoulders, as though to say: "Do you think so much of that?Could not I gladly have done the same?"
The priest saw this and admonished her kindly to be on her guard againstspiritual pride, though she had indeed earned the right to believeherself capable of the sternest devotion, and did not cease to set anexample of filial and Christian love.
He departed; and Katharina, to whom every word in praise of herbehavior to her mother, whom her sin had brought to her death-bed, was atorturing mockery, felt that she had deceived one more worthy soul. Shedid not, to be sure, deserve to be charged with spiritual pride; forin this silent chamber, where death stood on the threshold, she thoughtover all the horrible things she had done, and told herself repeatedlythat she was the chief and most vile of sinners.
Many times she felt impelled to confide in another soul, to invite apitying eye to behold and share her inward suffering.
To the bishop above all, the most venerable priest she knew, shewould most readily have confessed everything and have submitted to anypenance, however severe, at his hands, but shame held her back; and evenmore did another more urgent consideration. The prelate, she knew, woulddemand of her that she should forsake her old life, root out from hersoul the old feelings and desires, and begin a new existence; but forthis the time had not yet come: her love was still an indispensablecondition of life, and her hatred was even more dear to her. WhenPaula's terrible doom should indeed have overtaken her, and Katharina,her heart full of those old feelings, had gloated over it; when sheshould have been able to prove to Orion that her love was no less greatand strong and self-sacrificing than that of Thomas' daughter; when sheshould have compelled him--as she would and must--to acknowledge thathe had cruelly misprized her and sinned against her; then, and not tillthen, would she make peace with herself, with the Church, and with herSaviour. Nay, if need be, she would take the veil and mourn awaythe rest of her young life as a penitent, in a convent or a solitaryrock-cell. But now--when Paula, his betrothed, had done this great thingfor him--to perish now, with her love unseen, unknown, uncared for,perhaps forgotten by him, to retire into herself and vanish from hisken--that was too much for human nature! Sooner would she be lostforever; body and soul in everlasting perdition, a prey to Satan andhell--in which she believed as firmly as in her own existence.
So she went on nursing her mother, saw the red spots spread over thesick woman's whole body--watched the fever that increased from dayto day, from hour to hour; listened with a mixture of horror andgladness--at which she herself shuddered, though she fed her heart onit--to the reports of the preparations for the sacrifice of the Bride ofthe Nile, and to all the bishop could tell her of Paula, and her dyingfather, and Orion. She trembled for little Mary, who had disappearedfrom the neighboring garden, till she heard that the child had fled toescape the cloister; each day she learnt that Heliodora, who hadmoved to the gardener's house with her invalid, had as yet escaped thepestilence; while in the prayers, which even now she never failed tooffer up morning and evening, she implored the Almighty and her patronsaints to rescue the young widow, to save her from causing the death ofher own mother, and to forgive her for having indirectly caused that ofworthy old Rufinus, who had always been so good to her, and of so manyinnocent creatures by her treachery.
Thus the terrible days and nights of anguish passed by; and the captiveswhom the girl's sins had brought to prison were happier than she, inspite of the doom that threatened them.
The fate of his betrothed tortured Orion more than a hundred achingwounds. Paula's terrible end was fast approaching, and his brain burnedat the mere thought. Now, as he was told by the warder, by the bishop,and by Justinus, the day after to-morrow was fixed for the bridal of hisbetrothed. In two days the bride, decked by base and mocking hands foran atrocious and accursed farce, would be wreathed and wedded, not tohim, the bridegroom whom she loved, but to the Nile--the insensible,death-dealing element. He rushed up and down his cell like a madman, andtore his lute-strings when he tried to soothe his soul with music; butthen a calm, well-intentioned voice would come from the adjoining room,exhorting him not to lose hope, to trust in God, not to forget his dutyand the task before him. And Orion would control himself resolutely,pull himself together, and throw himself into his work again.
Day and night were alike to him. The senator had provided him with alamp and oil. When he was wearied out, he allowed himself no longersleep on his hard couch than human nature imperatively demanded; and assoon as he had shaken it off he again became absorbed in maps and lists,plied his pen, thought, sketched, calculated, and reflected. Then, ifa doubt arose in his mind or he could not trust his own memory andjudgment, he knocked at the wall, and his shrewd and experienced friendwas at all times ready to help him to the best of his knowledge andopinion. The senator went to Arsinoe for him, to gain information asto the seaboard from the archives preserved there; and so the work wentforward, approaching its end, strengthening and raising his sinkingspirit, bringing him the pleasures of success, and enabling him notunfrequently to forget for hours that which otherwise might have broughtthe bravest to despair.
The warder, the senator or his worthy wife, Dame Joanna or Eudoxia--whotwice had the pleasure of accompanying her--each time they visited himhad some message or note to carry to Paula, telling her how far his workhad progressed; and to her it was a consolation and heartfelt joy to beable to follow him in his labors. And many a token of his love, esteem,and admiration gave her courage, when even her brave heart began toquail.
Ah! It was not alone her terror of a horrible death that tortured hersoul. Her father, whom she considered it her greatest joy in life tohave found again, was fading beyond all hope under her loving hands.His poor wounded lungs refused its service. It was with great difficultythat he could swallow a few drops of wine and mouthfuls of food; andin these last days his clear mind had lain as it were under ashroud--perhaps it was happier so, as she told herself and as herfriends said to comfort her.
He, too, had heard the cries of: "Hail to the Bride of the Nile!"
"Bring out the Bride!"
"Away with the Bride of the Nile!" Though he had no suspicion of theirmeaning, they had haunted his thoughts incessantly during the last fewdays; and the terrible, strange words had seemed to charm his fancy,for to Paula's distress he would murmur them to himself tenderly orthoughtfully as the case might be.
Many times the idea occurred to her that she might put an end to herlife before the worst should befall, before she became a spectacle for awhole nation, to be jeered at and made a delightful and exciting show torouse their cruelty or their compassion. But dared she do it? Dared shedefy the Most High, the Lord in whom she put her trust, into whose
handshe commended herself in a thousand dumb but fervent prayers.
No. To the very last she would trust and hope. And wonderful to say!Each time she had reached the very limits of her powers of endurance,feeling she could certainly bear no more and must succumb, somethingcame to her to revive her faith or her courage: a message would bebrought her from Orion, or Dame Joanna or Pulcheria came to see her; thebishop sought an interview, or her father's mind rallied and he couldspeak to her in beautiful and stimulating words. Often the warder wouldannounce the senator and his wife, and their vigorous and healthy mindsalways hit on the very thing she needed. Martina, particularly, with hersubtle motherly instinct, always understood whatever was agitating her;and once she showed her a letter from Heliodora, in which she spoke ofthe calmness she had won through nursing their dear invalid, and saidhow thankful she was to see the reward of her care and toil. Narses wasalready quite another man, and she could know no higher task than thatof reconciling the hapless man to life, nay, of making it dear to himagain. She no longer thought of Orion but as she might of a beautifulsong she once had heard in a delightful hour.
Thus time passed, even for the imprisoned maiden, till only two nightsremained before St. Serapis' day when the fearful marriage was to besolemnized.
It was evening when the bishop came to visit Paula. He regarded it ashis duty to tell her that the execution of her sentence was fixed forthe day after to-morrow. He should hope and believe till the last, buthis own power over the misguided mob was gone from him. In any case, andif the worst should befall, he would be at her side to protect her bythe dignity of his office. He had come now, so as to give her time toprepare her self in every respect. The care of her noble father till hislast hour on earth he would take upon himself as a dear and sacred duty.
Though she had believed herself surely prepared long since for theworst, this news fell on her like a thunderbolt. What lay before herseemed so monstrous, so unexampled, that it was impossible that she evercould look forward to it firmly and calmly.
For a long time she could not help clinging desperately to her faithfulBetta, and it was only by degrees that she so far recovered herself asto be able to speak to the bishop, and thank him. He, however, couldonly lament his inability to earn her fullest gratitude, for thepatriarch's reply to his complaint of those who promised rescue to thepeople by the instrumentality of a heathen abomination--a document onwhich he had founded his highest hopes for her--had had a differentresult from that which he had expected. The patriarch, to be sure,condemned the abominable sacrifice, but he did it in a way which lackedthe force necessary to terrify and discourage the misled mob. However,he would try what effect it might have on the people, and a number ofscribes were at work to make copies of it in the course of the night.These would be sent to the Senators next morning, posted up in themarket-place and public buildings, and distributed to the people; but hefeared all this would have no effect.
"Then help me to prepare for death," said Paula gloomily. "You are nota priest of my confession, but no church has a more worthy minister. Ifyou can absolve me in the name of your Redeemer, mine will pardon me. Welook at Him, it is true, with different eyes, but He is the Saviour ofus both, nevertheless." A contradictory reply struggled for utterance inthe strict Jacobite's mind, but at such a moment he felt he must repressit; he only answered:
"Speak, daughter, I am listening."
And she poured forth all her soul, as though he had been a priest of herown creed, and his eyes grew moist as he heard this confession of apure and loving heart, yearning for all that was highest and best.He promised her the mercy of the Redeemer, and when he had ended with"Amen," and blessed her, he looked down at the ground for some minutesand presently said, "Follow me, Child."
"Whither?" she asked in surprise; for she thought that her last hourhad already come, and that he was about to lead her away to the placeof execution, or to her watery, ever-flowing tomb; but he smiled as hereplied: "No, child. To-day I have only the pleasing duty of blessingyour betrothal before God; if only you will promise not to estrange yourhusband from the faith of his fathers--for what will not a man sacrificeto win the love of a woman.--You promise? Then I will take you to yourOrion."
He rapped on the door of the cell, and when the warder had opened ithe whispered his orders; Paula followed him silently and with blushingcheeks, and in a few minutes she was clasped to her lover's breastwhile, for the first time--and perhaps the last--their lips met in akiss.
The prelate gave them a few minutes together; when he had blessedthem both and solemnized their betrothal, he led her back to her cell.However, she had hardly time to thank him out of the fulness of heroverflowing heart, when a town-watchman came to fetch him to seeSusannah; her last hour was at hand, if not already past. John at oncewent with the messenger, and Paula drew a deep breath as she saw himdepart. Then she threw herself on to her nurse's shoulders, crying:
"Now, come what may! Nothing can divide us; not even death!"