CHAPTER XX.
The royal chariot in which Klea was standing, wrapped in the cloak andwearing the hat of the captain of the civic guard, went swiftly andwithout stopping through the streets of Memphis. As long as she sawhouses with lighted windows on each side of the way, and met riotoussoldiers and quiet citizens going home from the taverns, or from workinglate in their workshops, with lanterns in their hands or carried bytheir slaves--so long her predominant feeling was one of hatred toPublius; and mixed with this was a sentiment altogether new to her--asentiment that made her blood boil, and her heart now stand stilland then again beat wildly--the thought that he might be a wretcheddeceiver. Had he not attempted to entrap one of them--whether her sisteror herself it was all the same--wickedly to betray her, and to get herinto his power!
"With me," thought she, "he could not hope to gain his evil ends,and when he saw that I knew how to protect myself he lured the poorunresisting child away with him, in order to ruin her and to drag herinto shame and misery. Just like Rome herself, who seizes on one countryafter another to make them her own, so is this ruthless man. No soonerhad that villain Eulaeus' letter reached him, than he thought himselfjustified in believing that I too was spellbound by a glance from hiseyes, and would spread my wings to fly into his arms; and so he putout his greedy hand to catch me too, and threw aside the splendor anddelights of a royal banquet to hurry by night out into the desert,and to risk a hideous death--for the avenging deities still punish theevildoer."
By this time she was shrouded in total darkness, for the moon was stillhidden by black clouds. Memphis was already behind her, and the chariotwas passing through a tall-stemmed palm-grove, where even at mid-daydeep shades intermingled with the sunlight. When, just at this spot,the thought once more pierced her soul that the seducer was devoted todeath, she felt as though suddenly a bright glaring light had flashed upin her and round her, and she could have broken out into a shout of joylike one who, seeking retribution for blood, places his foot at last onthe breast of his fallen foe. She clenched her teeth tightly and graspedher girdle, in which she had stuck the knife given her by the smith.
If the charioteer by her side had been Publius, she would have stabbedhim to the heart with the weapon with delight, and then have thrownherself under the horses' hoofs and the brazen wheels of the chariot.
But no! Still more gladly would she have found him dying in the desert,and before his heart had ceased to beat have shouted in his ear how muchshe hated him; and then, when his breast no longer heaved a breath--thenshe would have flung herself upon him, and have kissed his dimmed eyes.
Her wildest thoughts of vengeance were as inseparable from tender pityand the warmest longings of a heart overflowing with love, as the darkwaters of a river are from the brighter flood of a stream with whichit has recently mingled. All the passionate impulses which had hithertobeen slumbering in her soul were set free, and now raised theirclamorous voices as she was whirled across the desert through the gloomof night. The wishes roused in her breast by her hatred appealing to heron one side and her love singing in her ear, in tempting flute-tones, onthe other, jostled and hustled one another, each displacing the other asthey crowded her mind in wild confusion. As she proceeded on her journeyshe felt that she could have thrown herself like a tigress on hervictim, and yet--like an outcast woman--have flung herself at Publius'knees in supplication for the love that was denied her. She had lost allidea of time and distance, and started as from a wild and bewilderingdream when the chariot suddenly halted, and the driver said in his roughtones:
"Here we are, I must turn back again."
She shuddered, drew the cloak more closely round her, sprang out on tothe road, and stood there motionless till the charioteer said:
"I have not spared my horses, my noble gentleman. Won't you give mesomething to get a drop of wine?" Klea's whole possessions were twosilver drachma, of which she herself owned one and the other belonged toIrene. On the last anniversary but one of his mother's death, the kinghad given at the temple a sum to be divided among all the attendants,male and female, who served Serapis, and a piece of silver had fallen tothe share of herself and her sister. Klea had them both about her in alittle bag, which also contained a ring that her mother had given her atparting, and the amulet belonging to Serapion. The girl took out the twosilver coins and gave them to the driver, who, after testing the liberalgift with his fingers, cried out as he turned his horses:
"A pleasant night to you, and may Aphrodite and all the Loves befavorable!"
"Irene's drachma!" muttered Klea to herself, as the chariot rolled away.The sweet form of her sister rose before her mind; she recalled the hourwhen the girl--still but a child--had entrusted it to her, because shelost everything unless Klea took charge of it for her.
"Who will watch her and care for her now?" she asked herself, and shestood thinking, trying to defend herself against the wild wishes whichagain began to stir in her, and to collect her scattered thoughts. Shehad involuntarily avoided the beam of light which fell across the roadfrom the tavern-window, and yet she could not help raising her eyes andlooking along it, and she found herself looking through the darknesswhich enveloped her, straight into the faces of two men whose gaze wasdirected to the very spot where she was standing. And what faces theywere that she saw! One, a fat face, framed in thick hair and a short,thick and ragged beard, was of a dusky brown and as coarse and brutal asthe other was smooth, colorless and lean, cruel and crafty. The eyes ofthe first of these ruffians were prominent, weak and bloodshot, with afixed glassy stare, while those of the other seemed always to be on thewatch with a restless and uneasy leer.
These were Euergetes' assassins--they must be! Spellbound with terrorand revulsion she stood quite still, fearing only that the ruffiansmight hear the beating of her heart, for she felt as if it were a hammerswung up and down in an empty space, and beating with loud echoes, nowin her bosom and now in her throat.
"The young gentleman must have gone round behind the tavern--he knowsthe shortest way to the 'tombs. Let us go after him, and finish off thebusiness at once," said the broad-shouldered villain in a hoarse whisperthat broke down every now and then, and which seemed to Klea even morerepulsive than the monster's face.
"So that he may hear us go after him-stupid!" answered the other. "Whenhe has been waiting for his sweetheart about a quarter of an hour Iwill call his name in a woman's voice, and at his first step towards thedesert do you break his neck with the sand-bag. We have plenty of timeyet, for it must still be a good half hour before midnight."
"So much the better," said the other. "Our wine-jar is not nearly emptyyet, and we paid the lazy landlord for it in advance, before he creptinto bed."
"You shall only drink two cups more," said the punier villain. "For thistime we have to do with a sturdy fellow, Setnam is not with us now tolend a hand in the work, and the dead meat must show no gaping thrustsor cuts. My teeth are not like yours when you are fasting--even cookedfood must not be too tough for them to chew it, now-a-days. If you soakyourself in drink and fail in your blow, and I am not ready with thepoisoned stiletto the thing won't come off neatly. But why did not theRoman let his chariot wait?"
"Aye! why did he let it go away?" asked the other staring open-mouthedin the direction where the sound of wheels was still to be heard. Hiscompanion mean while laid his hand to his ear, and listened. Both weresilent for a few minutes, then the thin one said:
"The chariot has stopped at the first tavern. So much the better. TheRoman has valuable cattle in his shafts, and at the inn down there,there is a shed for horses. Here in this hole there is hardly a stallfor an ass, and nothing but sour wine and mouldy beer. I don't like therubbish, and save my coin for Alexandria and white Mariotic; that isstrengthening and purifies the blood. For the present I only wish wewere as well off as those horses; they will have plenty of time torecover their breath."
"Yes, plenty of time," answered the other with a broad grin, and then hewith his companion withdrew into t
he room to fill his cup.
Klea too could hear that the chariot which had brought her hither,had halted at the farther tavern, but it did not occur to her thatthe driver had gone in to treat himself to wine with half of Irene'sdrachma. The horses should make up for the lost time, and they couldeasily do it, for when did the king's banquets ever end before midnight?
As soon as Plea saw that the assassins were filling their earthen cups,she slipped softly on tiptoe behind the tavern; the moon came out frombehind the clouds for a few minutes, she sought and found the short wayby the desert-path to the Apis-tombs, and hastened rapidly along it. Shelooked straight before her, for whenever she glanced at the road-side,and her eye was caught by some dried up shrub of the desert, silveryin the pale moonlight, she fancied she saw behind it the face of amurderer.
The skeletons of fallen beasts standing up out of the dust, and thebleached jawbones of camels and asses, which shone much whiter than thedesert-sand on which they lay, seemed to have come to life and motion,and made her think of the tiger-teeth of the bearded ruffian.
The clouds of dust driven in her face by the warm west wind, which hadrisen higher, increased her alarm, for they were mingled with the coldercurrent of the night-breeze; and again and again she felt as if spiritswere driving her onwards with their hot breath, and stroking her facewith their cold fingers. Every thing that her senses perceived wastransformed by her heated imagination into a fearful something; but morefearful and more horrible than anything she heard, than any phantom thatmet her eye in the ghastly moonlight, were her own thoughts of whatwas to be done now, in the immediate future--of the fearful fate thatthreatened the Roman and Irene; and she was incapable of separating onefrom the other in her mind, for one influence alone possessed her,heart and soul: dread, dread; the same boundless, nameless, deadlydread--alike of mortal peril and irremediable shame, and of the airiestphantoms and the merest nothings.
A large black cloud floated slowly across the moon and utter darknesshid everything around, even the undefined forms which her imaginationhad turned to images of dread. She was forced to moderate her pace, andfind her way, feeling each step; and just as to a child some hideousform that looms before him vanishes into nothingness when he covers hiseyes with his hand, so the profound darkness which now enveloped her,suddenly released her soul from a hundred imaginary terrors.
She stood still, drew a deep breath, collected the whole natural forceof her will, and asked herself what she could do to avert the horridissue.
Since seeing the murderers every thought of revenge, every wish topunish the seducer with death, had vanished from her mind; one desirealone possessed her now--that of rescuing him, the man, from theclutches of these ravening beasts. Walking slowly onwards she repeatedto herself every word she had heard that referred to Publius and Ireneas spoken by Euergetes, Eulaeus, the recluse, and the assassins, andrecalled every step she had taken since she left the temple; thus shebrought herself back to the consciousness that she had come out andfaced danger and endured terror, solely and exclusively for Irene'ssake. The image of her sister rose clearly before her mind in all itsbright charm, undimmed by any jealous grudge which, indeed, eversince her passion had held her in its toils had never for the smallestfraction of a minute possessed her.
Irene had grown up under her eye, sheltered by her care, in the sunshineof her love. To take care of her, to deny herself, and bear the severestfatigue for her had been her pleasure; and now as she appealed to herfather--as she wont to do--as if he were present, and asked him in aninaudible cry: "Tell me, have I not done all for her that I could do?"and said to herself that he could not possibly answer her appeal butwith assent, her eyes filled with tears; the bitterness and discontentwhich had lately filled her breast gradually disappeared, and a gentle,calm, refreshing sense of satisfaction came over her spirit, like acooling breeze after a scorching day.
As she now again stood still, straining her eyes which were growing moreaccustomed to the darkness, to discover one of the temples at the endof the alley of sphinxes, suddenly and unexpectedly at her right hand asolemn and many-voiced hymn of lamentation fell upon her ear. This wasfrom the priests of Osiris-Apis who were performing the sacred mysteriesof their god, at midnight, on the roof of the temple. She knew the hymnwell--a lament for the deceased Osiris which implored him with urgentsupplication to break the power of death, to rise again, to bestow newlight and new vitality on the world and on men, and to vouchsafe to allthe departed a new existence.
The pious lament had a powerful effect on her excited spirit. Herparents too perhaps had passed through death, and were now taking partin the conduct of the destiny of the world and of men in union with thelife giving God. Her breath came fast, she threw up her arms, and, forthe first time since in her wrath she had turned her back on the holyof holies in the temple of Serapis, she poured forth her whole soul withpassionate fervor in a deep and silent prayer for strength to fulfil herduty to the end,--for some sign to show her the way to save Irene frommisfortune, and Publius from death. And as she prayed she felt nolonger alone--no, it seemed to her that she stood face to face withthe invincible Power which protects the good, in whom she now again hadfaith, though for Him she knew no name; as a daughter, pursued by foes,might clasp her powerful father's knees and claim his succor.
She had not stood thus with uplifted arms for many minutes when themoon, once more appearing, recalled her to herself and to actuality.She now perceived close to her, at hardly a hundred paces from where shestood, the line of sphinxes by the side of which lay the tombs of Apisnear which she was to await Publius. Her heart began to beat fasteragain, and her dread of her own weakness revived. In a few minutes shemust meet the Roman, and, involuntarily putting up her hand to smoothher hair, she was reminded that she still wore Glaucus' hat on her headand his cloak wrapped round her shoulders. Lifting up her heart againin a brief prayer for a calm and collected mind, she slowly arranged herdress and its folds, and as she did so the key of the tomb-cave, whichshe still had about her, fell under her hand. An idea flashed throughher brain--she caught at it, and with hurried breath followed it out,till she thought she had now hit upon the right way to preserve fromdeath the man who was so rich and powerful, who had given her nothingbut taken everything from her, and to whom, nevertheless, she--the poorwater-bearer whom he had thought to trifle with--could now bestow themost precious of the gifts of the immortals, namely, life.
Serapion had said, and she was willing to believe, that Publius was notbase, and he certainly was not one of those who could prove ungratefulto a preserver. She longed to earn the right to demand something of him,and that could be nothing else but that he should give up her sister andbring Irene back to her.
When could it be that he had come to an understanding with theinexperienced and easily wooed maiden? How ready she must have been toclasp the hand held out to her by this man! Nothing surprised her inIrene, the child of the present; she could comprehend too that Irene'scharm might quickly win the heart even of a grave and serious man.
And yet--in all the processions it was never Irene that he had gazed at,but always herself, and how came it to pass that he had given a promptand ready assent to the false invitation to go out to meet her in thedesert at midnight? Perhaps she was still nearer to his heart thanIrene, and if gratitude drew him to her with fresh force then--ayethen--he might perhaps woo her, and forget his pride and her lowlyposition, and ask her to be his wife.
She thought this out fully, but before she had reached the half circleenclosed by the Philosophers' busts the question occurred to her mind.And Irene?
Had she gone with him and quitted her without bidding her farewellbecause the young heart was possessed with a passionate love forPublius--who was indeed the most lovable of men? And he? Would heindeed, out of gratitude for what she hoped to do for him, make up hismind, if she demanded it, to make her Irene his wife--the poor but morethan lovely daughter of a noble house?
And if this were possible, if these two could be h
appy in love andhonor, should she Klea come between the couple to divide them? Shouldshe jealously snatch Irene from his arms and carry her back to thegloomy temple which now--after she had fluttered awhile in sportivefreedom in the sunny air--would certainly seem to her doublysinister and unendurable? Should she be the one to plunge Irene intomisery--Irene, her child, the treasure confided to her care, whom shehad sworn to cherish?
"No, and again no," she said resolutely. "She was born for happiness,and I for endurance, and if I dare beseech thee to grant me one thingmore, O thou infinite Divinity! it is that Thou wouldst cut out from mysoul this love which is eating into my heart as though it were rottenwood, and keep me far from envy and jealousy when I see her happy in hisarms. It is hard--very hard to drive one's own heart out into the desertin order that spring may blossom in that of another: but it is wellso--and my mother would commend me and my father would say I had actedafter his own heart, and in obedience to the teaching of the great menon these pedestals. Be still, be still my aching heart--there--that isright!"
Thus reflecting she went past the busts of Zeno and Chrysippus, glancingat their features distinct in the moonlight: and her eyes falling onthe smooth slabs of stone with which the open space was paved, her ownshadow caught her attention, black and sharply defined, and exactlyresembling that of some man travelling from one town to another in hiscloak and broad-brimmed hat.
"Just like a man!" she muttered to herself; and as, at the same moment,she saw a figure resembling her own, and, like herself, wearing a hat,appear near the entrance to the tombs, and fancied she recognized it asPublius, a thought, a scheme, flashed through her excited brain, whichat first appalled her, but in the next instant filled her with theecstasy which an eagle may feel when he spreads his mighty wings andsoars above the dust of the earth into the pure and infinite ether. Herheart beat high, she breathed deeply and slowly, but she advanced tomeet the Roman, drawn up to her full height like a queen, who goesforward to receive some equal sovereign; her hat, which she had takenoff, in her left hand, and the Smith's key in her right-straight ontowards the door of the Apis-tombs.