Volume I Part 44 (2/2)
”Love is wanting--on her side,” said Isaac quietly,
”Then I can certainly do no good! But if her heart has chosen elsewhere--I should like to do something for my Miriam!” and he laid his hand gently upon the maiden's s.h.i.+ning hair.
The touch was but slight, but as if a flash of lightning had startled her, Miriam fell suddenly upon her knees. Her head sank upon her bosom, and, crossing her arms, she slipped down at Totila's feet like a flower heavy with dew.
Totila drew back a step in surprise. But the next moment the girl had risen.
”Forgive, it was only a rose--it fell at your feet,” She placed the flower upon the table, and seemed so composed, that neither her father nor Totila thought further of the occurrence. ”It is growing dark already; make haste, sir!” she said quietly, and gave him a basket containing flowers and plants.
”I go. Valeria is very thankful for all your kindness. I have told her a great deal about you, and she has long wished to see you. Well, perhaps we can soon manage it--to-day is, probably, the last time that I shall need this disguise.”
”Do you mean to carry off the daughter of Edom?” cried the old man.
”Bring her here! here she will be well hidden!”
”No,” interposed Miriam, ”not here! no, no!”
”Why not, thou strange child?” asked her father in a tone of annoyance.
”This is no place for a bride--this chamber--it would bring her no blessing.”
”Be not uneasy,” said Totila, as he went to the door, ”I shall soon put an end to secrecy by sueing for her hand openly. Farewell!” He hastened out.
Isaac took the spear, the horn, and several keys from the wall, and followed in order to open the gate for Totila, and make the round of all the doors of the great tower.
Miriam remained alone.
For a long time she stood with closed eyes motionless on the same spot.
At last she pa.s.sed both hands over her forehead and cheeks, and looked about her.
The room was very quiet; through the open window stole the first beam of moonlight. It fell silvery upon Totila's white mantle, which hung in long folds over a chair. Miriam ran and covered the hem of the mantle with burning kisses. She took the glittering helmet, which stood near her upon the table, and pressed it tenderly to her heart with both arms. Then holding it a little way from her, she gazed upon it dreamily for a few moments, and, at last--she could not resist--she lifted it up and placed it upon her lovely head. She started as the heavy bronze touched her forehead, and then, stroking back her dark braids, she pressed the cold hard steel firmly upon her brow. She then took it off, and set it, looking shyly round, in its former place, and going to the window she looked out into the magic moonlight and the scented night-air. Her lips moved as if in prayer, but the words of the prayer were the same old song:
”By the waters of Babylon We sat down and wept.
O daughter of Zion, when comes the day Which stills thy heavy pain?”
CHAPTER XXII.
While Miriam was gazing silently at the first pale stars, Totila's impatience soon brought him to the villa of the rich trader, which lay at about an hour's distance from the Porta Capuana.
The slave who kept the gate told him to go to the old Hortularius, Valeria's freedman, who had the care of the garden. This freedman had been admitted to the lovers' confidence, and now took the plants from the supposed gardener's boy, and led him into his sleeping-room, the low windows of which opened into the garden. The next day before sunrise--so taught the mysteries of ancient horticulture--the flowers must be planted, so that the first sunlight which shone upon them in the new soil should be that of the fresh morning. The young Goth waited impatiently in the narrow chamber for the hour at which Valeria would be able to leave her father after their evening meal.
He drew aside the curtain which covered the window and again and again looked up at the sky, measuring the flight of time by the rising of the stars and the progress of the moon. The large garden before him lay bathed in its peaceful light.
In the distance, the plas.h.i.+ng of a fountain could be heard, and the cicadas chirped in the myrtles. The warm south wind blew sultry through the night, at times bearing clouds of sweet odour upon its wings; and, from the blooming grove at the end of the garden, the clear song of the nightingale filled the air with melody.
At last Totila could wait no longer. He swung himself noiselessly over the marble sill of the window; the white sand of the narrow path scarcely grated beneath his rapid footsteps, as, avoiding the stream of moonlight, he hurried along under the shrubbery.
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