Part 8 (1/2)
Sophronia silently drew the dagger from beneath her girdle, and looked fearlessly around the circle of faces.
Carinus remained fixed in the att.i.tude in which this unexpected movement had surprised him. Every one stood still as if spellbound.
aevius alone did not lose his presence of mind. With a smooth smile on his false lips, he glided nearer to the maiden.
”Fairest virgin, do not forget that you are a Christian. Your G.o.d punishes sternly those who open the gates of death by force; and your religion regards it a sin to kill yourself or any other mortal, while it requires you to endure whatever G.o.d has decreed, whether it be death by torture or an hour of bliss in the arms of the Caesar. Do not forget that you are a Christian, and that many Christian women have borne this form of martyrdom before you.”
The drawn dagger trembled in Sophronia's hand.
aevius moved a step nearer.
”Remember that you are a Christian,” he said, casting a swift glance at the dagger to wrest it by a bold spring from the maiden's hand.
”But I am also a Roman!” cried Sophronia, as she recalled her sister's words; and with the speed of lightning she buried the steel in her heart.
The blow was dealt with a sure hand, and the blade pierced the strong heart to its hilt. The Roman prized her honour more than her salvation.
The next instant she sank dying on the floor, composing the folds of her garments with her last strength, that even in death she might not betray the grace of her figure to unholy eyes.
CHAPTER VIII.
Meanwhile the father and the betrothed husband vainly sought the maiden. They could search only in secret: open protection, undisguised defense could not be given to Sophronia.
Old Mesembrius had not been seen in Rome for a long time, and therefore every one was surprised when the distinguished patrician again appeared in the Forum, leaning on his ivory crutches and pausing at every step.
”Ah, worthy Senator, you rarely show yourself in Rome,” said a perfumed patrician dandy. ”Since the death of Probus we have not seen you even once.”
”I am old and feeble, my good Pompeius. My feet will scarcely carry me, and I should not have recognised you had you not spoken to me, for my eyes are almost blind.”
”But why do you not live in Rome?”
”If you should see the splendid turnips I raise in my garden, you surely would not summon me to Rome. An old man like me interests himself only in his apricot slips.”
At this moment a messenger from the Capitol whispered to Pompeius:
”Carinus has laid aside the purple in favor of his brother Numerian.”
Mesembrius sometimes heard so well that he caught the faintest murmur.
”What did you say?” he eagerly exclaimed. ”Carinus has abdicated, and Numerian will be Imperator? Huzza! Huzza!”
”Do you know Numerian? What kind of a man is he?” asked the courtiers anxiously.
”What kind of a man? He is a hero, a Roman, under whose rule Rome's golden age will begin again and the sun of fame will again s.h.i.+ne upon us. The glorious battles which Rome fought against half the world Numerian will continue. We will all share them. A new and radiant epoch is dawning. I will swing myself upon my charger and be where every man of honour must appear. I am not yet too old to die in battle!”
The old man, frantic with joy, was gesticulating enthusiastically, without thinking of his crutches, and recognised an acquaintance coming from the direction of the Capitol at a distance of a hundred paces. This was Quaterquartus, the augur.
”You are from the Capitol, Quaterquartus? Well! Well! What is the news?”