CHAPTER XXIII.
The unwonted tumult that had broken the stillness of the night had notbeen unobserved in the Greek Serapeum any more than in the Egyptiantemple adjoining the Apis-tombs; but perfect silence once more reignedin the Necropolis, when at last the great gate of the sanctuary ofOsiris-Apis was thrown open, and a little troop of priests arranged in aprocession came out from it with a vanguard of temple servants, who hadbeen armed with sacrificial knives and axes.
Publius and Klea, who were keeping faithful watch by the body of theirdead friend, saw them approaching, and the Roman said:
"It would have been even less right in such a night as this to let youproceed to one of the temples with out my escort than to have let ourpoor friend remain unwatched."
"Once more I assure you," said Klea eagerly "that we should have thrownaway every chance of fulfilling Serapion's last wish as he intended, ifduring our absence a jackal or a hyena had mutilated his body, and Iam happy to be able at least to prove to my friend, now he is dead, howgrateful I am for all the kindness he showed us while he lived. We oughtto be grateful even to the departed, for how still and blissful hasthis hour been while guarding his body. Storm and strife brought ustogether--"
"And here," interrupted Publius, "we have concluded a happy andpermanent treaty of peace for the rest of our lives."
"I accept it willingly," replied Klea, looking down, "for I am thevanquished party."
"But you have already confessed," said Publius, "that you were never sounhappy as when you thought you had asserted your strength againstmine, and I can tell you that you never seemed to me so great and yet solovable as when in the midst of your triumph, you gave up the battle forlost. Such an hour as that, a man experiences but once in his lifetime.I have a good memory, but if ever I should forget it, and be angry andpassionate--as is sometimes my way--remind me of this spot, or of thisour dead friend, and my hard mood will melt, and I shall remember thatyou once were ready to give your life for mine. I will make it easy foryou, for in honor of this man, who sacrificed his life for yours and whowas actually murdered in my stead, I promise to add his name of Serapionto my own, and I will confirm this vow in Rome. He has behaved to us asa father, and it behoves me to reverence his memory as though I had beenhis son. An obligation was always unendurable to me, and how I shallever make full restitution to you for what you have done for me thisnight I do not yet know--and yet I should be ready and willing everyday and every hour to accept from you some new gift of love. 'A debtor,'says the proverb, 'is half a prisoner,' and so I must entreat you todeal mercifully with your conquerer."
He took her hand, stroked back the hair from her forehead, and touchedit lightly with his lips. Then he went on:
"Come with me now that we may commit the dead into the hands of thesepriests."
Klea once more bent over the remains of the anchorite, she hung theamulet he had given her for her journey round his neck, and thensilently obeyed her lover. When they came up with the little processionPublius informed the chief priest how he had found Serapion, andrequested him to fetch away the corpse, and to cause it to be preparedfor interment in the costliest manner in the embalming house attachedto their temple. Some of the temple-servants took their places to keepwatch over the body, and after many questions addressed to Publius, andafter examining too the body of the assassin who had been slain, thepriests returned to the temple.
As soon as the two lovers were left alone again Klea seized the Roman'shand, and said passionately: "You have spoken many tender words to me,and I thank you for them; but I am wont always to be honest, and lessthan any one could I deceive you. Whatever your love bestows upon mewill always be a free gift, since you owe me nothing at all and I oweyou infinitely much; for I know now that you have snatched my sisterfrom the clutches of the mightiest in the land while I, when I heardthat Irene had gone away with you, and that murder threatened your life,believed implicitly that on the contrary you had lured the child awayto become your sweetheart, and then--then I hated you, and then--I mustconfess it--in my horrible distraction I wished you dead!"
"And you think that wish can offend me or hurt me?" said Publius. "No,my child; it only proves to me that you love me as I could wish to beloved. Such rage under such circumstances is but the dark shadow cast bylove, and is as inseparable from love as from any tangible body. Whereit is absent there is no such thing as real love present--only an airyvision, a phantom, a mockery. Such an one as Klea does not love nor hateby halves; but there are mysterious workings in your soul as in that ofevery other woman. How did the wish that you could see me dead turn intothe fearful resolve to let yourself be killed in my stead?"
"I saw the murderers," answered Klea, "and I was overwhelmed with horrorof them and of their schemes, and of all that had to do with them; Iwould not destroy Irene's happiness, and I loved you even more deeplythan I hated you; and then--but let us not speak of it."
"Nay-tell me all."
"Then there was a moment--"
"Well, Klea?"
"Then--in these last hours, while we have been sitting hand in hand bythe body of poor Serapion, and hardly speaking, I have felt it all overagain--then the midnight hymn of the priests fell upon my heart, and asI lifted up my soul in prayer at their pious chant I felt as if all myinmost heart had been frozen and hardened, and was reviving again to newlife and tenderness and warmth. I could not help thinking of all thatis good and right, and I made up my mind to sacrifice myself for you andfor Irene's happiness far more quickly and easily than I could give itup afterwards. My father was one of the followers of Zeno--"
"And you," interrupted Publius, "thought you were acting in accordancewith the doctrine of the Stoa. I also am familiar with it, but I do notknow the man who is so virtuous and wise that he can live and act, asthat teaching prescribes, in the heat of the struggle of life, or whois the living representative in flesh and blood of the whole code ofethics, not sinning against one of its laws and embodying it in himself.Did you ever hear of the peace of mind, the lofty indifference andequanimity of the Stoic sages? You look as if the question offended you,but you did not by any means know how to attain that magnanimity, forI have seen you fail in it; indeed it is contrary to the very nature ofwoman, and--the gods be thanked--you are not a Stoic in woman's dress,but a woman--a true woman, as you should be. You have learned nothingfrom Zeno and Chrysippus but what any peasant girl might learn from anhonest father, to be true I mean and to love virtue. Be content withthat; I am more than satisfied."
"Oh, Publius," exclaimed the girl, grasping her friend's hand. "Iunderstand you, and I know that you are right. A woman must be miserableso long as she fancies herself strong, and imagines and feels that sheneeds no other support than her own firm will and determination, noother counsel than some wise doctrines which she accepts and adheres to.Before I could call you mine, and went on my own way, proud of my ownvirtue, I was--I cannot bear to think of it--but half a soul, and tookit for a whole; but now--if now fate were to snatch you from me, Ishould still know where to seek the support on which I might lean inneed and despair. Not in the Stoa, not in herself can a woman find sucha stay, but in pious dependence on the help of the gods."
"I am a man," interrupted Publius, "and yet I sacrifice to them andyield ready obedience to their decrees."
"But," cried Klea, "I saw yesterday in the temple of Serapis the meanestthings done by his ministers, and it pained me and disgusted me, and Ilost my hold on the divinity; but the extremest anguish and deepest lovehave led me to find it again. I can no longer conceive of the powerthat upholds the universe as without love nor of the love that makes menhappy as other than divine. Any one who has once prayed for a being theylove as I prayed for you in the desert can never again forget how topray. Such prayers indeed are not in vain. Even if no god can hear themthere is a strengthening virtue in such prayer itself.
"Now I will go contentedly back to our temple till you fetch me, for Iknow that the discreetest, wisest, and kindest Beings will watch
overour love."
"You will not accompany me to Apollodorus and Irene?" asked Publius insurprise.
"No," answered Klea firmly. "Rather take me back to the Serapeum. I havenot yet been released from the duties I undertook there, and it will bemore worthy of us both that Asclepiodorus should give you the daughterof Philotas as your wife than that you should be married to a runawayserving-maid of Serapis."
Publius considered for a moment, and then he said eagerly:
"Still I would rather you should come with me. You must be dreadfullytired, but I could take you on my mule to Apollodorus. I care little forwhat men say of me when I am sure I am doing right, and I shall know howto protect you against Euergetes whether you wish to be readmitted tothe temple or accompany me to the sculptor. But do come--it will be hardon me to part from you again. The victor does not lay aside the crownwhen he has just won it in hard fight."
"Still I entreat you to take me back to the Serapeum," said Klea, layingher hand in that of Publius.
"Is the way to Memphis too long, are you utterly tired out?"
"I am much wearied by agitation and terror, by anxiety and happiness,still I could very well bear the ride; but I beg of you to take me backto the temple."
"What--although you feel strong enough to remain with me, and in spiteof my desire to conduct you at once to Apollodorus and Irene?" askedPublius astonished, and he withdrew his hand. "The mule is waiting outthere. Lean on my arm. Come and do as I request you."
"No, Publius, no. You are my lord and master, and I will always obey youunresistingly. In one thing only let me have my own way, now and in thefuture. As to what becomes a woman I know better than you, it is a thingthat none but a woman can decide."
Publius made no reply to these words, but he kissed her, and threw hisarm round her; and so, clasped in each other's embrace, they reached thegate of the Serapeum, there to part for a few hours.
Klea was let into the temple, and as soon as she had learned that littlePhilo was much better, she threw herself on her humble bed.
How lonely her room seemed, how intolerably empty without Irene. Inobedience to a hasty impulse she quitted her own bed, lay herself downon her sister's, as if that brought her nearer to the absent girl, andclosed her eyes; but she was too much excited and too much exhausted tosleep soundly. Swiftly-changing visions broke in again and again on hersincerely devotional thoughts and her restless half-sleep, painting toher fancy now wondrously bright images, and now most horrible ones--nowpictures of exquisite happiness, and again others of dismal melancholy.And all the time she imagined she heard distant music and was beingrocked up and down by unseen hands.
Still the image of the Roman overpowered all the rest.
At last a refreshing sleep sealed her eyes more closely, and in herdream she saw her lover's house in Rolne, his stately father, his noblemother--who seemed to her to bear a likeness to her own mother--and thefigures of a number of tall and dignified senators. She felt herselfmuch embarrassed among all these strangers, who looked enquiringly ather, and then kindly held out their hands to her. Even the dignifiedmatron came to meet her with effusion, and clasped her to her breast;but just as Publius had opened his to her and she flew to his heart,and she fancied she could feel his lips pressed to hers, the woman, whocalled her every morning, knocked at her door and awoke her.
This time she had been happy in her dream and would willingly have sleptagain; but she forced herself to rise from her bed, and before the sunwas quite risen she was standing by the Well of the Sun and, not toneglect her duty, she filled both the jars for the altar of the god.
Tired and half-overcome by sleep, she set the golden vessels in theirplace, and sat down to rest at the foot of a pillar, while a priestpoured out the water she had brought, as a drink-offering on the ground.
It was now broad daylight as she looked out into the forecourt throughthe many-pillared hall of the temple; the early sunlight played roundthe columns, and its slanting rays, at this hour, fell through the talldoorway far into the great hall which usually lay in twilight gloom.
The sacred spot looked very solemn in her eyes, sublime, and as it werereconsecrated, and obeying an irresistible impulse she leaned against acolumn, and lifting up her arms, and raising her eyes, she uttered herthankfulness to the god for his loving kindness, and found but one thingto pray for, namely that he would preserve Publius and Irene, and allmankind, from sorrow and anxiety and deception.
She felt as if her heart had till now been benighted and dark, and hadjust disclosed some latent light--as if it had been withered and dry,and was now blossoming in fresh verdure and brightly-colored flowers.
To act virtuously is granted even to those who, relying on themselves.earnestly strive to lead moral, just and honest lives; but the happyunion of virtue and pure inner happiness is solemnized only in the heartwhich is able to seek and find a God--be it Serapis or Jehovah.
At the door of the forecourt Klea was met by Asclepiodorus, who desiredher to follow him. The high-priest had learned that she had secretlyquitted the temple: when she was alone with him in a quiet room heasked her gravely and severely, why she had broken the laws and leftthe sanctuary without his permission. Klea told him, that terror forher sister had driven her to Memphis, and that she there had heard thatPublics Cornelius Scipio, the Roman who had taken up her father's cause,had saved Irene from king Euergetes, and placed her in safety, and thatthen she had set out on her way home in the middle of the night.
The high-priest seemed pleased at her news, and when she proceeded toinform him that Serapion had forsaken his cell out of anxiety for her,and had met his death in the desert, he said:
"I knew all that, my child. May the gods forgive the recluse, and maySerapis show him mercy in the other world in spite of his broken oath!His destiny had to be fulfilled. You, child, were born under happierstars than he, and it is within my power to let you go unpunished. ThisI do willingly; and Klea, if my daughter Andromeda grows up, I can onlywish that she may resemble you; this is the highest praise that a fathercan bestow on another man's daughter. As head of this temple I commandyou to fill your jars to-day, as usual, till one who is worthy of youcomes to me, and asks you for his wife. I suspect he will not be long towait for."
"How do you know, father,--" asked Klea, coloring.
"I can read it in your eyes," said Asclepiodorus, and he gazed kindlyafter her as, at a sign from him, she quitted the room.
As soon as he was alone he sent for his secretary and said:
"King Philometor has commanded that his brother Euergetes' birthdayshall be kept to-day in Memphis. Let all the standards be hoisted, andthe garlands of flowers which will presently arrive from Arsinoe befastened up on the pylons; have the animals brought in for sacrifice,and arrange a procession for the afternoon. All the dwellers in thetemple must be carefully attired. But there is another thing; Komanushas been here, and has promised us great things in Euergetes' name, anddeclares that he intends to punish his brother Philometor for havingabducted a girl--Irene--attached to our temple. At the same time herequests me to send Klea the water-bearer, the sister of the girl whowas carried off, to Memphis to be examined--but this may be deferred.For to-day we will close the temple gates, solemnize the festival amongourselves, and allow no one to enter our precincts for sacrifice andprayer till the fate of the sisters is made certain. If the kingsthemselves make their appearance, and want to bring their troops in, wewill receive them respectfully as becomes us, but we will not give upKlea, but consign her to the holy of holies, which even Euergetesdare not enter without me; for in giving up the girl we sacrifice ourdignity, and with that ourselves."
The secretary bowed, and then announced that two of the prophets ofOsiris-Apis desired to speak with Asclepiodorus.
Klea had met these men in the antechamber as she quitted thehigh-priest, and had seen in the hand of one of them the key with whichshe had opened the door of the rock-tomb. She had started, and herconscience urged her to go at once to the priest-smi
th, and tell him howill she had fulfilled her errand.
When she entered his room Krates was sitting at his work with his feetwrapped up, and he was rejoiced to see her, for his anxiety for her andfor Irene had disturbed his night's rest, and towards morning his alarmhad been much increased by a frightful dream.
Klea, encouraged by the friendly welcome of the old man, who was usuallyso surly, confessed that she had neglected to deliver the key to thesmith in the city, that she had used it to open the Apis-tombs, and hadthen forgotten to take it out of the new lock. At this confession theold man broke out violently, he flung his file, and the iron bolt atwhich he was working, on to his work-table, exclaiming:
"And this is the way you executed your commission. It is the first timeI ever trusted a woman, and this is my reward! All this will bring evilon you and on me, and when it is found out that the sanctuary of Apishas been desecrated through my fault and yours, they will inflict allsorts of penance on me, and with very good reason--as for you, they willpunish you with imprisonment and starvation."
"And yet, father," Klea calmly replied, "I feel perfectly guiltless,and perhaps in the same fearful situation you might not have acteddifferently."
"You think so--you dare to believe such a thing?" stormed the old man."And if the key and perhaps even the lock have been stolen, and if Ihave done all that beautiful and elaborate work in vain?"
"What thief would venture into the sacred tombs?" asked Klea doubtfully.
"What! are they so unapproachable?" interrupted Krates. "Why, amiserable creature like you even dared to open them. But only wait--onlywait; if only my feet were not so painful--"
"Listen to me," said the girl, going closer up to the indignant smith."You are discreet, as you proved to me only yesterday; and if I were totell you all I went through and endured last night you would certainlyforgive me, that I know."
"If you are not altogether mistaken!" shouted the smith. "Those must bestrange things indeed which could induce me to let such neglect of dutyand such a misdemeanor pass unpunished."
And strange things they were indeed which the old man now had to hear,for when Klea had ended her narrative of all that had occurred duringthe past night, not her eyes only but those of the old smith too werewet with tears.
"These accursed legs!" he muttered, as his eyes met the enquiring glanceof the young girl, and he wiped the salt dew from his cheeks with thesleeve of his coat. "Aye-a swelled foot like mine is painful, child, anda cripple such as I am is not always strong-minded. Old women grow likemen, and old men grow like women. Ah! old age--it is bad to have suchfeet as mine, but what is worse is that memory fades as years advance.I believe now that I left the key myself in the door of the Apis-tombslast evening, and I will send at once to Asclepiodorus, so that he maybeg the Egyptians up there to forgive me--they are indebted to me formany small jobs."