Part 43 (1/2)
She stood there quite close to him, tall and slender like those lilies which--ever since he first beheld her--had so sweetly reminded him of her. Her simple grey tunic fell in straight folds from her shoulders, not a single jewel adorned her hands or neck, only her hair, in heavy plaits, made a crown of gold above her brow.
Never had she seemed to him so beautiful as now, for never had she seemed so womanly and yet so young. Her soul--rising triumphant from its trammels of high rank and artificial living--emerged G.o.d-like, opening out to the advent of love, welcoming it as it came, enfolding it in its own ardour and in its purity. With this man's presence near her, with her hand upon his arm, she had suddenly understood. Ambition, power, dominion of the world had vanished from her thoughts.
She had found love, knew love, felt its empire and its yoke, and the vista which that knowledge opened up before her was more wonderful than she could ever have dreamed of before.
Her cheeks were glowing with enthusiasm, her lips were parted and her eyes were of a vivid, translucent blue, with the pupils like brilliant sardonyx, full of dark and mysterious lights. She was ready to meet love with a surfeit of the rich gifts which she had at her command.
”The people call to thee, Taurus Antinor,” she reiterated eagerly; ”they want a man to lead them. They are tired of tyranny, of bloodshed and of idleness. They want to live! Therefore they call to thee. Two hundred thousand hearts were opened to thee yesterday in the Amphitheatre! Two hundred thousand tongues acclaimed thee even as in thine arms thou didst hold my lord Hortensius Martius and didst bear him into safety. The people have need of thee, and are ready to follow thee whithersoever thou wouldst lead them. They are miserable and oppressed, they want justice! They are starving and want bread. Their fate is in thy keeping for thou wouldst give them justice, and thou wouldst feed the poor and clothe the needy. All this morning did I hear the moans of the down-trodden, the wretched and the weak, and felt that Rome could only find happiness now through thee.”
”And the Caesar?” he said. ”Where is the Caesar?”
”He hath fled like a coward. Let him be forgotten even whilst the people proclaim thee the Caesar and a new era of happiness doth rise over Rome.”
Then as he made no reply she continued more hurriedly, more insistently:
”There are those here in my house now who would be the first to acclaim thee as the Caesar. The praetorian guard, fired by thy valour yesterday, sickened by the cowardice of Caligula, is ready to follow in their wake, whilst mine will be the joy of calling unto the whole city of Rome: 'Citizens, behold your Caesar! He is here!'”
She would not tell him that the imperium should come to him only through her hands; a strange reticence seemed to choke these words in her throat. Anon he would know. Caius Nepos and the others would tell him, but it was so sweet to give so much and--as the giver--to remain unknown.
She made a quick movement now, half withdrawing her hand from his arm, but his firm grasp closed swiftly over it.
”No, no,” he said, ”take not thy touch from off my soul lest I sink into an abyss of degradation.”
He kept her slender fingers rivetted against his arm, and she looked up at him a little frightened, for his words sounded strange and there was a wild look in his eyes. She remembered suddenly that he was sick and that a brief while ago fever had fired his brain. All her womanly tenderness surged up at sight of his drawn face.
”Thou art ill!” she said gently.
He fell on his knees, and still holding her hand he rested his forehead against the cool white fingers.
”I am dying,” he said softly, ”for love of thee.”
There was silence in the room now whilst she stood quite still, like a grey bird in its nest. She was looking down on him and his head was bowed upon her hands.
A weird, ruddy light penetrated into the studio from above and the sound of the pattering rain awoke a soft, murmuring echo on the white walls.
The noise of strife and rebellion, though distant, still filled the air around, but here, in this room, there was infinite quietude and peace.
Dea Flavia felt supremely happy. Love had come to her in its most exquisite plenitude; the man whom she honoured, loved her and she loved him. It seemed as if she had slept for thousands and thousands of years and had just woke up to see how beautiful was the world.
”Love is not death,” she murmured gently. ”It is life.”
”Death to me,” he whispered, ”for I have seen thy beauty and felt thee near unto my soul. And when I no longer may look upon thee mine eyes will become blind with the infinity of their longing, and when I no longer can feel thy touch, my heart will become as a stone.”
A quick blush rose to her cheeks.
”That time shall never come, Taurus Antinor,” she said so softly that her words hardly reached his ears. ”Have I not told thee that there are those in my house who are ready to acclaim thee as the Caesar?... acting upon my kinsman's own p.r.o.nouncement yesterday ... they have come to me ... to beg me to make the choice which will place the imperium in the hands of the man most worthy to wield it.... My choice is made, O praefect!... Look into mine eyes, my dear lord, and read what they express.”
He looked up just as she bade him, and as he did so there fell on him from her blue eyes such a look of love, that with a wild cry of pa.s.sionate joy he stretched out his arms and closed them around her.
”Love is not death, dear lord,” she murmured, even as the tears gathered in her eyes and made them s.h.i.+ne like stars.