CHAPTER III.
Irene's foot was not more susceptible to the chafing of a strap than herspirit to a rough or an unkind word; the Roman's words and manner hadhurt her feelings.
She went towards home with a drooping head and almost crying, but beforeshe had reached it her eyes fell on the peaches and the roast bird shewas carrying. Her thoughts flew to her sister and how much the famishinggirl would relish so savory a meal; she smiled again, her eyes shonewith pleasure, and she went on her way with a quickened step. It neveronce occurred to her that Klea would ask for the violets, or thatthe young Roman could be anything more to her sister than any otherstranger.
She had never had any other companion than Klea, and after work, whenother girls commonly discussed their longings and their agitations andthe pleasures and the torments of love, these two used to get home soutterly wearied that they wanted nothing but peace and sleep. If theyhad sometimes an hour for idle chat Klea ever and again would tell somestory of their old home, and Irene, who even within the solemn walls ofthe temple of Serapis sought and found many innocent pleasures, wouldlisten to her willingly, and interrupt her with questions and withanecdotes of small events or details which she fancied she rememberedof her early childhood, but which in fact she had first learnt from hersister, though the force of a lively imagination had made them seem apart and parcel of her own experience.
Klea had not observed Irene's long absence since, as we know, shortlyafter her sister had set out, overpowered by hunger and fatigue she hadfallen asleep. Before her nodding head had finally sunk and her droopingeyelids had closed, her lips now and then puckered and twitched as ifwith grief; then her features grew tranquil, her lips parted softly anda smile gently lighted up her blushing cheeks, as the breath of springsoftly thaws a frozen blossom. This sleeper was certainly not born forloneliness and privation, but to enjoy and to keep love and happiness.
It was warm and still, very still in the sisters' little room. The buzzof a fly was audible now and again, as it flew round the little oil-cupIrene had left empty, and now and again the breathing of the sleeper,coming more and more rapidly. Every trace of fatigue had vanished fromKlea's countenance, her lips parted and pouted as if for a kiss, hercheeks glowed, and at last she raised both hands as if to defend herselfand stammered out in her dream, "No, no, certainly not--pray, do not! mylove--" Then her arm fell again by her side, and dropping on the cheston which she was sitting, the blow woke her. She slowly opened her eyeswith a happy smile; then she raised her long silken lashes till her eyeswere open, and she gazed fixedly on vacancy as though something strangehad met her gaze. Thus she sat for some time without moving; then shestarted up, pressed her hand on her brow and eyes, and shuddering asif she had seen something horrible or were shivering with ague, shemurmured in gasps, while she clenched her teeth:
"What does this mean? How come I by such thoughts? What demons are thesethat make us do and feel things in our dreams which when we are wakingwe should drive far, far from our thoughts? I could hate myself, despiseand hate myself for the sake of those dreams since, wretch that I am!I let him put his arm round me--and no bitter rage--ah! no--somethingquite different, something exquisitely sweet, thrilled through my soul."
As she spoke, she clenched her fists and pressed them against hertemples; then again her arms dropped languidly into her lap, and shakingher head she went on in an altered and softened voice:
"Still-it was only in a dream and--Oh! ye eternal gods--when we areasleep--well! and what then? Has it come to this; to impure thoughts Iam adding self-deception! No, this dream was sent by no demon, it wasonly a distorted reflection of what I felt yesterday and the day before,and before that even, when the tall stranger looked straight into myeyes--four times he has done so now--and then--how many hours ago, gaveme the violets. Did I even turn away my face or punish his boldness withan angry look? Is it not sometimes possible to drive away an enemy witha glance? I have often succeeded when a man has looked after us; butyesterday I could not, and I was as wide awake then as I am at thismoment. What does the stranger want with me? What is it he asks with hispenetrating glance, which for days has followed me wherever I turn, androbs me of peace even in my sleep? Why should I open my eyes--the gatesof the heart--to him? And now the poison poured in through them isseething there; but I will tear it out, and when Irene comes home I willtread the violets into the dust, or leave them with her; she will soonpull them to pieces or leave them to wither miserably--for I will remainpure-minded, even in my dreams--what have I besides in the world?"
At these words she broke off her soliloquy, for she heard Irene's voice,a sound that must have had a favorable effect on her spirit, for shepaused, and the bitter expression her beautiful features had but justnow worn disappeared as she murmured, drawing a deep breath:
"I am not utterly bereft and wretched so long as I have her, and canhear her voice."
Irene, on her road home, had given the modest offerings of the anchoritePhibis into the charge of one of the temple-servants to lay before thealtar of Serapis, and now as she came into the room she hid the platterwith the Roman's donation behind her, and while still in the doorway,called out to her sister:
"Guess now, what have I here?"
"Bread and dates from Serapion," replied Klea.
"Oh, dear no!" cried the other, holding out the plate to her sister,"the very nicest dainties, fit for gods and kings. Only feel this peach,does not it feel as soft as one of little Philo's cheeks? If I couldalways provide such a substitute you would wish I might eat up yourbreakfast every day. And now do you know who gave you all this? No, thatyou will never guess! The tall Roman gave them me, the same you had theviolets from yesterday."
Klea's face turned crimson, and she said shortly and decidedly:
"How do you know that?"
"Because he told me so himself," replied Irene in a very altered tone,for her sister's eyes were fixed upon her with an expression of sterngravity, such as Irene had never seen in her before.
"And where are the violets?" asked Klea.
"He took them, and his friend gave me this pomegranate-flower,"stammered Irene. "He himself wanted to give it me, but the Greek--ahandsome, merry man--would not permit it, and laid the flower there onthe platter. Take it--but do not look at me like that any longer, for Icannot bear it!"
"I do not want it," said her sister, but not sharply; then, lookingdown, she asked in a low voice: "Did the Roman keep the violets?"
"He kept--no, Klea--I will not tell you a lie! He flung them over thehouse, and said such rough things as he did it, that I was frightenedand turned my back upon him quickly, for I felt the tears coming intomy eyes. What have you to do with the Roman? I feel so anxious, sofrightened--as I do sometimes when a storm is gathering and I am afraidof it. And how pale your lips are! that comes of long fasting, nodoubt--eat now, as much as you can. But Klea! why do you look at meso--and look so gloomy and terrible? I cannot bear that look, I cannotbear it!"
Irene sobbed aloud, and her sister went up to her, stroked her soft hairfrom her brow, kissed her kindly, and said:
"I am not angry with you, child, and did not mean to hurt you. If only Icould cry as you do when clouds overshadow my heart, the blue sky wouldshine again with me as soon as it does with you. Now dry your eyes,go up to the temple, and enquire at what hour we are to go to thesinging-practice, and when the procession is to set out."
Irene obeyed; she went out with downcast eyes, but once out she lookedup again brightly, for she remembered the procession, and it occurredto her that she would then see again the Roman's gay acquaintance,and turning back into the room she laid her pomegranate-blossom in thelittle bowl out of which she had formerly taken the violets, kissed hersister as gaily as ever, and then reflected as to whether she would wearthe flower in her hair or in her bosom. Wear it, at any rate, she must,for she must show plainly that she knew how to value such a gift.
As soon as Klea was alone she seized the trencher with a vehementgesture, gave the r
oast bird to the gray cat, who had stolen back intothe room, turning away her head, for the mere smell of the pheasant waslike an insult. Then, while the cat bore off her welcome spoils intoa corner, she clutched a peach and raised her hand to fling it awaythrough a gap in the roof of the room; but she did not carry out herpurpose, for it occurred to her that Irene and little Philo, the son ofthe gate-keeper, might enjoy the luscious fruit; so she laid it back onthe dish and took up the bread, for she was painfully hungry.
She was on the point of breaking the golden-brown cake, but acting on arapid impulse she tossed it back on the trencher saying to herself: "Atany rate I will owe him nothing; but I will not throw away the gifts ofthe gods as he threw away my violets, for that would be a sin. All isover between him and me, and if he appears to-day in the procession, andif he chooses to look at me again I will compel my eyes to avoid meetinghis--aye, that I will, and will carry it through. But, Oh eternal gods!and thou above all, great Serapis, whom I heartily serve, there isanother thing I cannot do without your aid. Help me, oh! help me toforget him, that my very thoughts may remain pure."
With these words she flung herself on her knees before the chest,pressed her brow against the hard wood, and strove to pray.
Only for one thing did she entreat the gods; for strength to forget theman who had betrayed her into losing her peace of mind.
But just as swift clouds float across the sky, distracting the laborsof the star-gazer, who is striving to observe some remote planet--as theclatter of the street interrupts again and again some sweet song we fainwould hear, marring it with its harsh discords--so again and again theimage of the young Roman came across Klea's prayers for release fromthat very thought, and at last it seemed to her that she was like aman who strives to raise a block of stone by the exertion of his utmoststrength, and who weary at last of lifting the stone is crushed to theearth by its weight; still she felt that, in spite of all her prayersand efforts, the enemy she strove to keep off only came nearer, andinstead of flying from her, overmastered her soul with a grasp fromwhich she could not escape.
Finally she gave up the unavailing struggle, cooled her burning facewith cold water, and tightened the straps of her sandals to go to thetemple; near the god himself she hoped she might in some degree recoverthe peace she could not find here.
Just at the door she met Irene, who told her that the singing-practicewas put off, on account of the procession which was fixed for four hoursafter noon. And as Klea went towards the temple her sister called afterher.
"Do not stay too long though, water will be wanted again directly forthe libations."
"Then will you go alone to the work?" asked Klea; "there cannot bevery much wanted, for the temple will soon be empty on account of theprocession. A few jars-full will be enough. There is a cake of bread anda peach in there for you; I must keep the other for little Philo."