Volume I Part 33 (1/2)
”'Sir, a veiled female slave waits in the library.'
”I hurried to the room with a beating heart. It was really the slave whom I had seen yesterday. She threw back her mantle; a handsome coquettish Moor or Carthaginian--I know the sort--looked at me with sly eyes.
”'I claim the reward of a messenger, Kallistratos,' she said; 'I bring you good news.'
”I took her hand and would have patted her cheek--for who desires to win the mistress must kiss the slave--but she laughed and said:
”'No, not Eros; Hermes sends me. My mistress'--I listened eagerly. 'My mistress is--a pa.s.sionate lover of art. She offers you three thousand solidi for the bust of Ares which stands in the niche at the door of your house.'”
The young guests laughed loudly, Cethegus joining in their merriment.
”Well, laugh away!” continued the host, smiling; ”but I a.s.sure you I did not laugh. My dreams were dashed to pieces, and I said, greatly vexed, 'I do not sell my busts.' The slave offered five thousand, ten thousand solidi. I turned my back upon her and opened the door. Then the sly puss said, 'I know that Kallistratos is indignant because he expected an adventure, and only found a money-affair. He is a Greek, and loves beauty; he burns with curiosity to see my mistress.' This was so true, that I could only smile. 'Well,' she said, 'you shall see her, and then I will renew my last offer. Should you still refuse, at least you will have had the advantage of satisfying your curiosity.
To-morrow, at the eighth hour, the litter will come again. Then be ready with your Ares.' And she slipped away. I cannot deny that my curiosity was aroused. Quite decided not to give up my Ares, and yet to see this beauteous art-enthusiast, I waited impatiently for the appointed hour. It came, and with it the litter. I stood watching at my open door. The slave descended. 'Come,' she called to me, 'you shall see her.' Trembling with excitement, I stepped forward, the curtain fell, and I saw----”
”Well?” cried Marcus, bending forward, his cup in his hand.
”What I shall never again forget! a face, friends, of unimagined beauty. Cypris and Artemis in one! I was dazzled. But I hurried back, lifted the Ares from its niche, gave it to the Punic slave, refused her money, and staggered into my house as confused as if I had seen a wood-nymph.”
”Well, that is wonderful,” laughed Ma.s.surius; ”you are else no novice in the works of Eros.”
”But,” asked Cethegus, ”how do you know that your charmer was a Goth?”
”She had dark-red hair, and a milk-white skin, and black eyebrows.”
”Oh, ye G.o.ds!” thought Cethegus. But he was silent and waited. No one present uttered the name. ”They do not know her.--And when was this?”
he asked his host.
”During the last calendars.”
”Quite right,” thought Cethegus. ”She came at that time from Tarentum through Rome to Ravenna. She rested here for three days.”
”And so,” said Piso, laughing, ”you gave your Ares for a look at a beautiful woman! A bad bargain! This time, Mercury and Venus were allies. Poor Kallistratos!”
”Oh,” said Kallistratos, ”the bust was not worth so very much. It was modern work. Ion of Neapolis made it three years, ago. But I tell you, I would give a Phidias for such a look.”
”An ideal head?” asked Cethegus indifferently, and lifted admiringly the bronze mixing-vase which stood before him.
”No; the model was a barbarian--some Gothic earl or other--Watichis or Witichas--who can remember these hyperborean names,” said Kalistratos, as he peeled a peach.
Cethegus reflectively sipped his wine from the cup of amber.
CHAPTER XI.
”Well, one might put up with the barbarian women,” cried Marcus Licinius, ”but may Orcus devour their brothers!” and he tore the faded rose-wreath from his head--the flowers could ill bear the close air of the room--and replaced it by a fresh one. ”Not only have they deprived us of liberty--they even beat us upon the field of love, with the daughters of Hesperia. Only lately, the beautiful Lavinia shut the door upon my brother, and received the foxy-haired Aligern.”
”Barbaric taste!” observed Lucius, shrugging his shoulders, and taking to his Isis-wine, as if to comfort himself. ”You know the Goths too, Furius; is it not an error of taste?”
”I do not know your rival,” answered the Corsican; ”but there are youths enough among the Goths who might well be dangerous to a woman.
And an adventure occurs to me, which I lately discovered, but of which, certainly, the point is still wanting.”