Part 4 (1/2)
”And your heart?”
”The G.o.d of Love does not forbid earthly love,” replied Sophronia, with a radiant smile.
Manlius, his face glowing with happiness, sank at the young girl's feet, resting at her side like a tamed lion, while through the hall rang the hymn of joy which teaches rejoicing with those who rejoice.
The grey-haired patriarch laid his hand upon the new catechumen's head, and the dying G.o.d looked in benediction upon them all.
CHAPTER III.
The next day it was old Mesembrius' first care to send for his daughter and speak to her of Manlius, whom, of course, he praised according to his deserts.
The young girl's cheeks glowed during the conversation, and, as her face betrayed, she confessed to her father, with sincere joy, that she had long loved the young soldier.
Mesembrius could not find words to express his pleasure. He embraced Sophronia again and again, and with tears of happiness placed her in the arms of Manlius, who entered at that moment.
”My only blessing,” he faltered, in tones trembling with emotion.
”O my father,” said Sophronia mournfully, ”do not say your only blessing. You have another daughter.”
”May my curse rest upon her head. Hasten your marriage, and then go far, far away from here. So far that not even a cloud from this sky can follow you. This soil is already so laden with sins that it trembles every moment under them as if it could no longer bear the burden. Go hence, that you may not perish with the guilty. I only wish to live for the moment that I know you are happy and beyond the two seas; then, for aught I care, death or Carinus may come.”
That very hour Manlius returned to Rome to set his house in order, and when he had made all the preparations for the wedding, he again mounted his horse, and late in the evening rode to old Mesembrius'
villa.
It was already past midnight. The sky was covered with clouds. He could only move at a walk, when, on reaching a bridge, he saw a dark group of people coming from a side path.
It seemed to be a band of prisoners guarded by soldiers. At that time of wars with the barbarians, robbers and thieves had increased so much that they gave the praetorians uninterrupted work. Manlius supposed that he had met such a company, and quietly returned the salute of the pa.s.sing soldiers.
Only one circ.u.mstance seemed strange--a woman's tall figure, with a long white mantle floating around it, rode at the end of the train.
When she saw Manlius stop she stopped too, as if she expected something. They remained thus a short time, looking at each other; then they turned and rode on. It was impossible to distinguish any one's features in the darkness.
Manlius paused again, glanced back, and considered whether to return and ask some question; he did not know himself what.
But pleasanter thoughts soon occupied his mind, and as the clouds parted, allowing a silvery streak to glide over the Tiber, his spirits also brightened, and he dashed joyously forward to the beloved home of Sophronia.
He could already see the colossal outlines of the Mesembrius villa, when he perceived in the road a magnificent _lectica_, inlaid with mother-of-pearl and hung with silk curtains, such as in those days only the most aristocratic women used in traveling. Two splendidly caparisoned sumpter mules were harnessed to the four poles, beside which marched two slaves.
Therefore the young man's surprise was so much the greater when he saw a man's ugly, pock-marked face thrust out between the curtains, and instantly recognised aevius, the base parasite, who was ready for half a sestertia to compose a panegyric upon the last gladiator, and had prepared for Carinus Caesar's greyhound a genealogy, according to which, on the mother's side, it had descended directly from the she-wolf that suckled the twin brothers Romulus and Remus.
Manlius could not repress a smile at the singular situation of the panegyrist.
”Oho, aevius, how long has the Caesar had you carried about in a _lectica_ like an aristocratic courtesan?”
”Be merciful, Manlius, and do not jeer at me. I am the most miserable writer of verse since Pegasus became the steed of poets. Just think what a favorable opportunity presented itself to secure immortality.
Yesterday afternoon I learned that by the Caesar's command a band of idol-wors.h.i.+pping Christians would be surprised at their meeting place on the Tiber; and I instantly hired a horse--a horse that exactly suited me, for I could not miss the chance of perpetuating so rare a spectacle by the power of my lyre for the benefit of posterity. There would be so many things priceless to us poets, such as killing, crucifixion, boiling in pitch, and similar matters. And now how have I fared! On the way the G.o.ds of Egypt threw me into the company of an accursedly charming woman who was being borne along in this superb traveling litter. First, this woman lured my secret from me, then she lured me off my horse to sit by her side in the _vehiculum_; and with Junonian perfidy to a heaven-aspiring Ixion, she sprang out on the other side, swung herself upon my horse, which she sat with the ease of an Amazon queen, and laughing merrily gave me the advice, if I was a poet, to use Pegasus, then dashed along the road I had pointed out, leaving me in this time-killing apparatus, which is more tiresome than the hour-gla.s.s. She probably reached the scene of the spectacle in season, while I, with these two mules and two a.s.ses, lost my way so completely that I am obliged to return to Rome.”