CHAPTER XXIV.
The bishop was too late. He found the widow Susannah a corpse;standing at the head of the bed was little Katharina, as pale as death,speechless, tearless, utterly annihilated. He kindly tried to cheer her,and to speak words of comfort; but she pushed him away, tore herselffrom him, and before he could stop her, she had fled out of the room.
Poor child! He had seen many a loving daughter mourning for her mother,but never such grief as this. Here, thought he, were two human souls allin all to each other, and hence this overwhelming sorrow.
Katharina had escaped to her own room, had thrown herself on thecouch--cowering so close that no one entering the room would have takenthe undistinguishable heap for a human being, a grown up, passionatelysuffering girl.
It was very hot, and yet a cold shiver ran through her slender frame.Was she now attacked by the pestilence? No; it would be too merciful ofFate to take such pity on her woes.
The mother was dead, dragged to the grave by her own daughter. Thedisease had first shown itself on her lips; and how many times had thephysician expressed his surprise at the plague having broken out in thishealthy quarter of the town, and in a house kept so scrupulously clean.She knew at whose bidding the avenging angel had entered there, andwhose criminal guile had trifled with him. The words "murdered yourmother" haunted her, and she remembered the law of the ancients whichrefused to prescribe a punishment for the killing of parents, becausethey considered such a monstrous deed impossible.
A scornful smile curled her lip. Laws! Principles! Was there one thatshe had not defied? She had contemned God, meddled with magic, bornefalse witness, committed murder--and as to the one law with promise,which, if Philippus was right, was exactly the same in the code of herforefathers as on the tables of Moses, how had she kept that? Her ownmother was no more, and by her act!
All through this frightful retrospect she had never ceased to shiverand, as this was becoming unendurable, she took to walking up and downand seeking excuses for her sinful doings: It was not her mother, butHeliodora whom she had wished to kill; why had malicious Fate...?
Here she was interrupted, for the young widow, who had heard the sadnews, sought her out to comfort her and offer her services. She spoketo the girl with real affection; but her sweet, low tones remindedKatharina of that evening after the old bishop's death; and whenHeliodora put out her arm to draw her to her, she shrank from her,begging her in a dry, hoarse voice, not to touch her for her clotheswere infected. She wanted no comfort; all she asked was to be leftalone--quite alone--nothing more. The words were hard and unkind, and asthe door closed on the young woman Katharina's eyes glared after her.
Why had this doom passed over Heliodora's head and demanded thesacrifice of one whose loss she could never cease to mourn?
This brought her mother vividly to her mind. She flew back to herdeath-bed and fell on her knees--but even there she could not bear tostay long, so she wandered into the garden and visited every spotwhere she and her mother had been together. But there were such strangecrackings in the shrubs, and the trees and bushes cast such uncannyshadows that she hailed daybreak as a deliverance.
She was on her way back to the house when her foster-brother Anubis camelimping to meet her. Poor fellow! She had made a cripple of him, too,and his mother had died through her fault.
The lad spoke to her, giving expression to his sympathy, and sheaccepted it; but she said such strange things, and answered him soutterly at random, that he began to fear that grief had turned herbrain. She went on to ask him point-blank how much money she now had,and as he happened to know approximately, he could tell her; she claspedher hands, for how could any one human being who was not a king possesssuch enormous wealth! Finally she enquired whether he knew how a willshould be drawn up, and that, too, he answered affirmatively.
She made him describe it all, and then he added that the signature mustbe made valid by those of two witnesses; but she, he added, was tooyoung to be thinking of making her will.
"Why?" said she. "Is Paula much older than I am?"
"And the day after to-morrow," the boy went on, "she is to be cast intothe Nile. All the people call her the Bride of the Nile."
At this that hideous, malignant smile again curled her lips, but shehastily suppressed it and walked straight on into the house. At the doorhe timidly asked her whether he might once more look on his mistress;but she was obliged to forbid it for fear of infection. However, heproudly replied: "What you do not fear, has no terrors for me," and hefollowed her to the side of the bed where the corpse now lay washed andin fine array; and when he saw Katharina kiss the dead woman's hand he,too, as soon as she looked away, pressed his lips on the place hers hadtouched. Then he sat down by the bed and remained there till she senthim away.
Before noon the bishop arrived to perform the last rites. He found thebody surrounded by beautiful flowers. Katharina had been out in thegarden again and had cut all the rarest and finest; and though she hadallowed the gardener to carry the basket for her, she would not have himhelp her in gathering them. The feeling that she was doing something forher mother had been a comfort to her; still, by day everything about herseemed even more intolerable than by night. Everything looked so large,so coarse, so insistent, so menacing, and reminded her at every stepof some injustice or some deed of which she was ashamed. Every eye, shefancied, must see through her; and now and then it seemed as though thepillars of the great banqueting-hall, where her mother still lay, weretottering, and the ceiling about to fall in and crush her.
She answered the bishop's questions absently and often quite at random,and the old man supposed that she was stunned by her great sorrow; so togive her thoughts a new direction he began telling her about Paula, andbelieving that Katharina was fond of her, he confided to her that hehad taken Paula, the day before, to Orion's cell, and consecrated theirbetrothal.
At this her face was convulsed in a manner that alarmed the bishop; afearful tumult raged in her soul, her bosom rose and fell spasmodically,and all she could utter was the question: "But they will sacrifice herall the same?"
The bishop thought he understood. She was horror stricken by the ideaof the sudden, cruel end that hung over the young bride, and he repliedsadly; "I shall not be able to restrain the wretches; still, no meansshall remain untried. The patriarch's rescript, condemning this madcrime, shall be made public to-day, and I will read and expound it atthe Curia, and try to give it keener emphasis.--Would you like to readit?"
As she eagerly assented, the prelate signed to the acolyte who hadwaited on him with the holy vessels, and he produced from a packet awritten sheet which he handed to Katharina. As soon as she was aloneshe read the patriarch's epistle; at first superficially, then morecarefully, and at last in deep attention and growing interest, stirredby it to strange thoughts, till at length her eyes flashed and herbreath came fast, as though this paper referred to herself, and couldseal her fate for life.
When the bearers came in to fetch away the body she was still sittingthere, gazing as if spell-bound at the papyrus; but she sprang up, shookherself, and then bid farewell to the cold rigid form of the mother onwhose warm heart she had so often rested, and to whom she had been thedearest thing on earth--and even then the solace of tears was deniedher.
She no longer suffered the deep remorse that had tormented her; for shefelt now that her intercourse with her last mother had not been put anend to by death; that after a short parting they would meet again--soonperhaps, perhaps even to-morrow--meet for a fulness of speech, anoutpouring of the heart, a revelation of all the past more open andunreserved than could ever be between mortal beings, even between motherand daughter. And when she who was sleeping there, blind, deaf, andsenseless, should awake again, up there, with eyes clearer than those ofmen below, and the ears and senses of a spiritual being to see and hearand judge all she had known and done, all she had felt and made othersfeel--then, she told herself, her mother might perhaps blame her andpunish her more than she had ever do
ne on earth, but she would alsoclasp her more closely to her heart and comfort her more earnestly.
She whispered gently in her ear as if she were still alive: "Waitawhile, only wait: I shall come soon and tell you everything!"
And then she kissed her so passionately and recklessly that the nunswere shocked and dragged her away, ordering the bearers to close thecoffin. They obeyed, and when the wooden lid fell over the sleepingform, shutting it in with a slam, and hiding it from the girl's sight,the barrier gave way which had hitherto restrained her tears and shebegan to weep bitterly; now, too, the feeling that she had indeed losther mother took complete possession of her--the sense of being an orphanand alone, quite alone in the wide world.
She saw and heard no more of what took place round the beloved dead; forwhen she took her hands from her face streaming with tears, the houseof the rich widow no longer sheltered its mistress; her remains had beenborne away to the nearest mortuary. The law forbade its being any longerkept within doors, but did not allow of its being buried till nightfell. The child might not follow her own mother to the cemetery.
With a drooping head Katharina withdrew to her room and there stoodlooking out into the garden. It all was hers now; she was mistress of itall and of much besides, as free and unfettered to command as hithertoshe had been over the birds, her little dog, or the jewels that lay onher toilet-table. She could make hundreds happy with a word, a wave ofthe hand--but not herself. She had never felt so grown-up, independent,womanly, nay powerful, and at the same time so unutterably wretched andhelpless as she felt in this hour.
What did she care for all these vanities? They could not suffice tocheck one sigh of disappointed yearning.
She had parted from her mother with a promise; the fervent longing thatfilled her soul was never still; and now the patriarch's letter hadgiven her a hint as to how she might fulfil the one and silence theother. She hastily took the document up again, and read it through oncemore.
Its instructions were precise to stop the proceedings of the misguidedMemphites with stern promptitude. It explained that the death of theChrist Jesus, who shed His blood to redeem the world, had satisfiedthe need for a human victim. Throughout the wide realms which the Crossovershadowed with blessing human sacrifice must therefore be accounteda useless and accursed abomination. It went on to point out how theheathen had devised their gods in the image of weak, sinful, earthlybeings, and chosen victims in accordance with this idea. "But our God,"it said, "is as high above men as the Spirit is above the flesh, and thesacrifice He demands is not of the flesh, but of the spirit. Will Henot turn away in wrath and sorrow from the blinded Christians of Memphiswho, in their straits, feel and are about to act like the cruel andfoolish heathen? They take for their victim a heretic and a stranger,deeming that that will diminish the abomination in the eyes of the Lord;but it moves Him to loathing all the same, for no human blood may stainthe pure and sacred altars of our mild faith, which gives life and notdeath.
"Ask your blind and misguided flock, my brother: Can the Father ofLove feel joy at the sight of one of His children, even an erringone, suffocated in the waters to the honor of the Most High, whilestruggling, and cursing her executioners?
"If, indeed, there were a pure maiden, possessed with the blessedintoxication of the love of God, who was ready to follow the exampleof Him who redeemed man by His death, to fling herself into the waterswhile she cried to Heaven with her dying breath: 'Take me and myinnocence as an offering, O Lord! Release my people from theirextremity!'--that would be a victim indeed; and perchance, the Lordmight say: 'I will accept it; but the will alone is enough. No child ofmine may cast away the life that I have lent her as the most sacred andprecious of gifts.'"
The letter ended with pious exhortations to the community.
Then a maiden who should voluntarily sacrifice herself in the river tosave the people in their need would be a victim pleasing in the sightof the Lord--so said the Man of God, through whose mouth the Most Highspoke. And this opinion, this hint, was to Katharina like a distaff fromwhich she spun a lengthening thread to warp to the loom and weave fromit a tangible tissue.
She would be the maiden whom the patriarch had imagined--the real,true Bride of the Nile, inspired to cast off her young life to save herpeople in their need. In this there was expiation such as Heaven mightaccept; this would release her from the burthen of life that weighedupon her, and would reunite her to her mother; in this way she couldshow her lover and the bishop and all the world the immensity of herself-sacrifice, which was in nothing behind that of "the other"--themuch-vaunted daughter of Thomas! She would do the great deed beforePaula's eyes, in sight of all the people. But Orion must know whoseimage she bore in her heart and for whose sake she made that leap fromblooming life into a watery grave.
Oh! it was wonderful, splendid! Would she not thus compel him inevitablyto remember her whenever he should think of Paula? Yes, she would forcehim to allow her image to dwell in his soul, inseparable from that"other;" and would not such an unparalleled act add such height toher figure, that it would be equal to that of her Syrian rival in theestimation of all men--even in his?
She now began to long for the supreme moment. Her vain little heartlaughed in anticipation of the delight of being seen, praised andadmired by all. Tomorrow she, her little self, would tower above all theworld; and the more she felt the oppressive heat of the scorching day,the more delicious it seemed to look forward to finding rest from thetorments of life in the cool element.
She saw no difficulties in the way of her achievement; she was mistressnow, and her slaves and servants must obey her orders. At the same timeshe remembered, too, to protect her large possessions from falling intothe hands of relations for whom she did not care; with a firm hand shedrew up a will in which she bequeathed part of her fortune to her uncleChrysippus, small portions to her foster-brother Anubis, and to Rufinus'widow, to whom she owed reparation for great wrong; then the largerhalf, and she owned many millions, she bequeathed to her dear friendOrion, whom she freely forgave, and who, she hoped, would see that evenin the little "water-wagtail" there had been room for some greatness.She begged him also to take her house, since she had not been altogetherguiltless of the destruction of the home of his fathers.
The condition she attached to this bequest showed the same keen, alertspirit that had guided her through life.
She knew that the patriarch's indignation might be fatal to the youngman, so to serve as a mediator, and at the same time to ensure forherself the prayers of the Church, which she desired, she enjoined Orionto bestow the greater part of his inheritance on the patriarch for theChurch and for benevolent purposes. But not at once, not for tenyears, and in instalments of which Orion himself was to determine theproportion. In the event of his dying within the next three years allhis claims were to be transferred to her uncle Chrysippus. She added arequest to the Church, to which she belonged with her whole heart, thatevery year on her saint's day and her mother's they should be prayed forin every church in the land. A chapel was to be erected on the sceneof her self-immolation, and if the patriarch thought her worthy of thehonor, it was to bear the name of the Chapel of Susannah and Katharina.
She gave all her slaves their freedom and devised legacies to all theofficials of her household.
As she sat for long hours of serious meditation, drawing up this lastwill, she smiled frequently with satisfaction. Then she copied it outfair, and finally called the physician and all the free servants in thehouse to witness her signature.
Though no one had suspected the "water-wagtail" of such forethought,it was no matter of surprise that the young heiress, shut up in theplague-stricken house, should dispose of her estates, and beforenight-fall the physician brought Alexander, the chief of the Senate,to the garden gate by her desire, and there they spoke to each otherwithout opening it. He was an old friend of her father's, and since thedeath of the Mukaukas, had been her guardian; he now agreed to stand asher Kyrios, and as such he ratified her will and
the signature, thoughshe would not allow him to read the document.
Finally she went to the slaves quarters, from whence a few moresufferers had been removed to the Necropolis, and desired her boatman toget the holiday barge in readiness early in the morning, as she purposedseeing the ceremonial from the river. She gave particular orders to thegardener as to how it was to be decorated, and what flowers he was tocut for her personal adornment.
She went to bed far less excited than she had been the night before,and before she had ended her evening prayer, slumber overtook her wearybrain.
When she awoke at sunrise, the large and splendid boat, which her fatherhad had built at great cost in Alexandria, was manned and ready to putout. No one interfered to prevent her embarking with Anubis and a fewfemale servants, for all the guards who had surrounded the house tillyesterday had been withdrawn to do duty at the great ceremonial ofthe marriage and sacrifice, since a popular tumult was not unlikely toarise.