Volume I Part 19 (1/2)
Longer and longer stretched the shadows of the towers across the court of the palace, into which she was gazing. All at once she was roused by the firm footsteps of a man; Cethegus stood before her. His countenance was cold and dark, but icily calm.
”Cethegus!” cried the distressed woman, hurrying towards him; and would have taken his hand, but his coldness repulsed her.
”All is lost!” she sighed, stopping short.
”Nothing is lost. Calmness is all that is wanting--and promptness,” he added, looking round the room.
When he saw that he was alone with her, he put his hand into the folds of his toga.
”Your love-philtre has done no good, Rusticiana. Here is another; more potent. Take it,” and he thrust into her hand a small phial made of dark-coloured lava-stone.
She looked into his face with anxious suspicion.
”Do you all at once believe in magic and charms? Who has mixed it?”
”I,” he answered, ”and _my_ potions work.”
”You!” a cold shudder ran through her frame.
”Ask no questions, do not delay,” he commanded. ”It must be done this day! Do you hear? This very day!”
But Rusticiana still hesitated, and looked doubtfully at the bottle in her hand.
Then Cethegus went close to her and lightly touched her shoulder.
”You hesitate?” he said slowly. ”Do you know what is at stake? Not only our whole plan! No, blind mother. Still more. Camilla _loves_, loves the King; with all the power of her young soul. Shall the daughter of Boethius become the paramour of the tyrant?”
With a loud cry Rusticiana started back. That which, during the last few days, had crossed her mind with a terrible suspicion, now became a certainty; she cast one glance at the man who had spoken the cruel word, and hurried away, angrily grasping the phial.
Cethegus looked quietly after her.
”Now, young Prince, we shall see! You were quick, I am quicker. It is strange,” he added, ”I have long thought that I was incapable of such violent emotion. Life has again a charm. I can again strive, hope, and fear. Even hate. Yes, I hate this boy, who dares to meddle in my affairs with his childish hand. He would defy me--hinder my progress--he boldly crosses my path--he! Well, let him bear the consequences!” And he slowly left the chamber, and turned towards the audience-room of the Queen, where he intentionally showed himself to the a.s.sembled crowd, and, by his calmness, gave some degree of confidence to the troubled hearts of the Roman courtiers.
At sunset he went with Ca.s.siodorus and a few other Romans--consulting about his defence for the next day--into the gardens, where he looked about in vain for Camilla.
She, as soon as she had heard the end of Ca.s.siodorus' report, had hurried to the court of the palace, where she hoped to find the King at the exercise of arms with the other young Goths. She only wished to see him, not yet to speak to him and beg pardon at his feet for the great wrong she had done him.
She had abhorred him, repulsed him, hated him as spotted with the blood of her father--him, who had suffered for her father's sake, who had saved her brothers' lives!
But she did not find the King in the court. The important events of the day kept him confined to his study. His comrades also did not fence to-day. Standing in thick groups, they loudly praised the courage of their young King. Camilla heard this praise with delight. Blus.h.i.+ng with pride, she wandered in happy dreams about the garden, seeking the traces of her lover in all her favourite haunts.
Yes, she loved him! Joyfully and proudly she confessed it to herself; he had a thousand times deserved it. What matter that he was a Goth, a barbarian! He was a n.o.ble, generous youth, the King of her soul!
She repeatedly told the slave who accompanied her to keep at a distance, so that she might not hear how she again and again murmured the beloved name.
At last she arrived at the Temple of Venus, and sank into sweet dreams of the future, which lay indistinct, but golden-hued, before her. She first of all resolved to declare to her mother and the Prefect that they must no more reckon upon her a.s.sistance in any plot against the King. Then she would ask pardon for her fault with moving words, and then--then?
She did not know what would happen then; but she blushed in the midst of her sweet reverie.
Red and perfumed almond-blossoms fell from the bending trees; in the thick oleander near her sang a nightingale; the clear stream glided purling past her to the blue sea, and the waves of this sea rolled softly to her feet, as if doing homage to her love.