Part 10 (2/2)
”I can never thank you enough--at least if he is always as clever and witty as he has been since I have had him,” was the reply. ”I was vexed at first to have a servant with such dreadful scars all over him; but he is more presentable now. And he has a very droll way of saying bright things. What fun he has made of Livia's dear mother, his former mistress! I shall have to give up reading any wise authors, if it will make me grow like Valeria. Then, too, Agias has won my favour, if in no other way, by getting a thick gra.s.s stem out of the throat of my dear little pet sparrow, that was almost choking to death. I am so grateful to you for him!”
”I am very glad you are fond of him,” said Drusus. ”Has your uncle come back from Rome yet? I did not meet him while there. I was busy; and besides, to speak honestly, I have a little hesitation in seeing him, since the political situation is so tense.”
”He returns to-night, I believe,” replied Cornelia. Then as if a bit apprehensive, ”Tell me about the world, Drusus; I don't care to be one of those fine ladies of the sort of Clodia,[71] who are all in the whirl of politics, and do everything a man does except to speak in the Senate; but I like to know what is going on. There isn't going to be a riot, I hope, as there was two years ago, when no consuls were elected, and Pompeius had to become sole magistrate?”
[71] She was a sister of Clodius, a famous demagogue, and was a brilliant though abandoned woman.
”There have been no tumults so far,” said Drusus, who did not care to unfold all his fears and expectations.
”Yet things are in a very bad way, I hear,” said Cornelia ”Can't Caesar and my uncle's party agree?”
”I'm afraid not,” replied Drusus, shaking his head. ”Caesar wishes to be consul a second time. Pompeius and he were friends when at Lucca six years ago this was agreed on. Caesar was then promised that he should have his Gallic proconsuls.h.i.+p up to the hour when he should be consul, and besides Pompeius promised to have permission granted Caesar to be elected consul, without appearing as a candidate in Rome; so at no moment was Caesar to be without office,[72] and consequently he was not to be liable to prosecution from his enemies. All this was secured to Caesar by the laws,--laws which Pompeius aided to have enacted. But now Cra.s.sus the third triumvir is dead; Julia, Caesar's daughter and Pompeius's wife, whom both dearly loved, is dead. And Pompeius has been persuaded by your uncle and his friends to break with Caesar and repudiate his promise. Caesar and Pompeius have long been so powerful together that none could shake their authority; but if one falls away and combines with the common enemy, what but trouble is to be expected?”
[72] Without the _imperium_--so long as a Roman official held this he was above prosecution.
”The enemy! the enemy!” repeated Cornelia, looking down, and sighing.
”Quintus, these feuds are a dreadful thing. Can't you,” and here she threw a bit of pathetic entreaty into her voice, ”join with my uncle's party, and be his friend? I hate to think of having my husband at variance with the man who stands in place of my father.”
Drusus took her face between his hands, and looked straight at her.
They were standing within the colonnade of the villa of the Lentuli, and the sunlight streaming between the pillars fell directly upon Cornelia's troubled face, and made a sort of halo around her.
”My dearest, delectissima,” said Quintus, earnestly, ”I could not honourably take your hand in marriage, if I had not done that which my conscience, if not my reason, tells me is the only right thing to do.
It grieves me to hurt you; but we are not fickle Greeks, nor servile Easterns; but Romans born to rule, and because born to rule, born to count nothing dear that will tend to advance the strength and prosperity not of self, but of the state. You would not love me if I said I cared more for keeping a pang from your dear heart, than for the performance of that which our ancestors counted the one end of life--duty to the commonwealth.”
Cornelia threw her arms around him.
”You are the n.o.blest man on the whole earth!” she cried with bright enthusiasm. ”Of course I would not love you if you did what you believed to be wrong! My uncle may scold, may storm. I shan't care for all his anger, for you _must be_ right.”
”Ah! delectissima,” cried Drusus, feeling at the moment as if he were capable of refuting senates and confounding kings, ”we will not look at too gloomy a side of the picture. Pompeius and Caesar will be reconciled. Your uncle's party will see that it is best to allow the proconsul an election as promised. We will have wise laws and moderate reforms. All will come out aright. And we--we two--will go along through life as softly and as merrily as now we stroll up and down in the cool shade of these columns; and I will turn philosopher and evolve a new system that will forever send Plato and Zeno, Epicurus and Timon, to the most remote and spider-spun cupboard of the most old-fas.h.i.+oned library, and you shall be a poetess, a Sappho, an Erinna, who shall tinkle in Latin metres sweeter than they ever sing in Aiolic. And so we will fleet the time as though we were Zeus and Hera on Olympus.”
”Zeus and Hera!” repeated Cornelia, laughing. ”You silly Graecule.[73]
You may talk about that misbehaved pair, who were anything but harmonious and loving, if Homer tells truly. I prefer our own Juppiter and our Juno of the Aventine. _They_ are a staid and home-keeping couple, worth imitating, if we are to imitate any celestials. But nothing Greek for me.”
[73] Contemptuous diminutive for Greek.
”Intolerant, intolerant,” retorted Drusus, ”we are all Greek, we Romans of to-day--what is left of old Latium but her half-discarded language, her laws worse than discarded, perverted, her good pilum[74]
which has not quite lost its cunning, and her--”
[74] The heavy short javelin carried by the Roman legionary, only about six feet long. In practised hands it was a terrible weapon, and won many a Roman victory.
”Men,” interrupted Cornelia, ”such as you!”
”And women,” continued Drusus, ”such as you! Ah! There is something left of Rome after all. We are not altogether fallen, unworthy of our ancestors. Why shall we not be merry? A Greek would say that it was always darkest before Eos leaves the couch of t.i.thonus,[75] and who knows that our Helios is not soon to dawn and be a long, long time ere his setting? I feel like throwing formality to the winds, crying 'Iacchos evoe,' and dancing like a baccha.n.a.l, and singing in tipsy delight,--
[75] The ”rosy-fingered Dawn” of Homer; t.i.thonos was her consort.
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