Part 44 (1/2)
”The value of thy love is infinite,” he said earnestly and tenderly as, in perfect humility, he bent the knee for one moment before her and stooping to the very ground he kissed the tip of her sandal. ”'Tis only on bended knees that such as I can render sufficient thanks to G.o.d and to thee for that holy, precious gift.”
She bent down to him and said with earnest solemnity:
”Then I entreat thee, good my lord, in the name of that love go not to the Caesar now.... An he doth not kill thee ... an thou dost help to bring him back to power, he will use that power to part thee from me....
Do not go from me now, dear lord--for if thou goest I know that it will be for ever.... The Caesar hates thee now as much as he loved thee before ... his hatred is as insensate as his love.... He will kill thee or take thee from me.... In either case 'tis death, my good lord....”
”'Twere death to betray the Caesar, O my soul!” he replied, still on his knees, his forehead bent low to the ground, ”Death, a thousand times worse than a dagger's thrust ... a thousand times worse than parting.”
His voice was low and vibrant, and as his solemn words died away, they struck the murmuring echo that slumbered on the studio walls. And Dea Flavia was silent now: silent as he rose to his feet and stood before her with head slightly bent, silent, because borne on the subtle wing of that same dying echo there came to her the awful sense of unavoidable fate. She shuddered as if with cold, that sense of fatality seemed ready to spread over her soul like a pall.
It was only the Roman blood in her, the blood of victorious Augustus which would not allow her to yield to the spectre ... not just yet ...
not until the last battle had been fought--the last unconquerable weapon drawn.
She waited in silence for a while, nor did she detain him by the slightest gesture although he once more made a movement as if to go, only her eyes rooted him to the spot even as she said very softly, her voice sounding full and mellow like the cooing of a dove.
”My lord, I entreat thee but to grant me one moment longer, for of a truth there is much that my mind cannot grasp. Of thy G.o.d we will not speak. Whoever he be, as thou dost wors.h.i.+p him, I will be content to wors.h.i.+p by thy side. But that will come in the fullness of time. Dost love me, my dear lord?”
”With every aspiration of my soul, with every beating of my heart, with every fibre of my body do I love thee,” he said, and there was such intensity of pa.s.sion in his voice, such a glowing ardour in the glance which seemed to envelop and embrace her whole person, that even she--the proud Augusta, the woman--exacting through the very magnitude of her love--was satisfied.
”Then, dear lord, I entreat thee,” she said, ”for one brief moment only think of naught but of our love. Let me rest in thine arms but that one moment longer, and remember the while that with my love, the world conquered will lie at thy feet.”
She drew closer to him and once more lay against his breast. She was tender and clinging now, no longer the Augusta, the unapproachable princess but just a woman, loving and submissive, proud to give and proud to abdicate.
To him this was the torturing moment. He knew what she desired and what weapons she could wield wherewith to subdue his will. The battle he fought with himself just then was but a precursor of the fiercer one which anon he would have to fight against her. The rending of his soul was expressed in every line of his face, which once more now looked haggard and harsh; Dea Flavia saw it all. She saw how he suffered, whilst with every pa.s.sing second the inward struggle became more difficult and fierce; his breath came and went with feverish rapidity, the frown across his brow deepened visibly, and for a while his arms were rigid and his fists clenched, even though she clung to him, her frail body against his, her head upon his breast.
”Wouldst lose the world and lose me?” she murmured. ”The world is at thy feet, and I love thee.”
A moan escaped him as that of a wounded creature in pain; the rigidity of his arms relaxed and wildly now he was pressing her closer to him.
”I love thee,” he murmured, ”I love thee. The world is well lost to me now that I have held thee in mine arms.”
”The world, dear lord,” she whispered, ”is not lost, rather is it won.
My hand in thine, we'll make that world a happier and brighter one.
Power is thine ... thou art the Caesar....”
”Hush--sh--sh, idol of my soul! Do not speak of that ... not now ...
when my arms are round thee and the whole world has vanished from my ken. Let me live in my dream just a brief moment longer; let me forget all save my love for thee. It hath burned my soul for an eternity meseems, for I have only lived since that hour when first I heard thy voice ... in the Forum ... dost remember?... when I knelt at thy feet and tied the strings of thy shoe.”
”I remember!”
”And I loved thee from that hour. I loved thee for thy purity and because thou art exquisitely beautiful and I am a man thirsting for happiness. But G.o.d, who hath need of my soul, hath willed to break my heart so that I might remain pure and true to His service. It was so filled with thine image that even the glorious vision of His Pa.s.sion became faint and dim. But with infinite pity He hath given thee to me just for this one brief, glorious hour that it might feed on the memory of thee, even whilst my feet trod the way that leads to the foot of His Cross.”
”There is but one way, dear lord,” she exclaimed, ”for thy footsteps to tread! Tis the way that leads to mine arms first and thence upwards to the temple of Jupiter Victor where stands the throne and rests the sceptre of Augustus.”
”The way of which I speak, dear heart,” he rejoined earnestly, ”also leads upwards, upwards to Calvary, on the uttermost summit of which stands a lonely, broken Cross. The wind and rains and snows of the past seven years have worked their will with it.... They tell me that one of its branches lies broken on the ground, that its stem is split from end to end. But it is there--there still, abandoned now and alone, but to eyes that can see, still bearing the imprint of the heavenly body that hung thereon for three hours in unspeakable agony so that men might know how to live--and might learn how to die.”
She said nothing for the moment. Her excitement had not left her, but her lips were mute because that which was in her heart was too great, too strange for words. She did not understand what he meant; she still thought that fever had clouded his brain; anon, she felt sure, sane reason would return and with it ambition, which became every man. But she did not understand that his love for her transcended all human love she ever wot of; it was great and n.o.ble and sublime as all that emanated from him, and, womanlike, she was content to let other matters shape themselves in accordance with the will of the G.o.ds.