Part 51 (1/2)

Thus had the man written in loneliness and in peace after the sacrifice had been accomplished, even after she--the Augusta--had, with love-filled heart and generous hands, offered him everything that man could desire on this earth. He had written it in loneliness and in peace, having given up the world to follow his G.o.d.

Who was this G.o.d? and what had he done that his power over Taurus Antinor's heart was greater than her own?

Yesterday she had cursed him loudly and called him cruel and unjust, four days ago she had defied him and now he had conquered. Taurus Antinor had obeyed him and she who loved him and whom he loved was left desolate.

For this she never doubted: he loved her, that she knew. She was no child now! The last four days had made a woman of her: in the past four days she had tasted of and witnessed every pa.s.sion that rends a human heart, love, ambition, cruelty, hatred! She had seen them all! seen through pa.s.sion men brought down to a level lower than the beasts, and through pa.s.sion a man become equal to a G.o.d. No! she was no longer a child, she was a woman now, and there was much that if she did not understand she at least could not doubt. The man whom she loved, loved her with an intensity at least equal to that which even now made her heart throb at the memory of his kiss. He loved her, longed for her, would have laid down his life for her even at the moment when he tore himself away from her arms. He loved her and longed for her even whilst his trembling fingers penned this last impa.s.sioned farewell.

He loved her and he loved Rome! But his G.o.d called to him and he, the proud Roman patrician, the accepted lord of the Augusta and of Rome, followed as would a slave.

Slowly she dropped down on her knees just where he too had knelt two nights ago, and like unto him she clasped her hands together, scarce conscious that the tiny wooden cross still lay between her fingers.

”Thou hast conquered, oh Galilean!” she murmured, whilst great sobs that would not be suppressed rose to her throat. ”At thy call he left everything that makes life beautiful and happy: at thy call he left me to mourn, he left the people of Rome who acclaimed him, he left the throne of Augustus and the Empire of the world! Everything he left at thy call! What hast thou in thy nail-pierced hands to give him in return?”

For a while now she was able to give way to her immeasurable sorrow. Her head buried in the pillow whereon his head had rested, she sobbed out her loving, aching heart in a pa.s.sionate fit of weeping.

Just like the Christian yesterday up on the heights, so was she--the pagan--alone now with her grief. More lonely than he--she had no anchorage, and in her ear had never sounded those all-compelling words, sublime in their perfect gentleness:

”Come unto Me!”

But who shall tell what divine hand soothed her burning forehead? what divine words of comfort were whispered in her ear?

Gradually her tears ceased to flow, the heavy sobs were stilled, her aching and bruised body felt numb with the pain in her heart. But outwardly she was more calm. She rose from her knees, and hiding the small cross in the bosom of her gown, she drew forth the letter and read it through once more.

”If only I knew!” she murmured. ”If only I could understand!”

After a while she bethought her of the slave Folces, the one human link left now between herself and the man whom she loved and who was gone from her.

With reverent hands she smoothed out the couch, the pillow which had supported his head, the coverlet which had lain over him. She was loth to go from this room whose every corner seemed still to hold something of his personality and whose every wall seemed to hold an echo of his voice.

She would have stayed here for hours longer, talking to that absent personality, powerful and mysterious more than ever now, listening to the rugged voice which she would never hear again. But there was something that she must do ere she gave herself over finally to her dreams; there was a duty to accomplish which she knew he would ask of her.

Therefore--after a last, long, all-embracing look on the place which would for ever be as a sanctuary in her sight--she went back to the studio at last, and herself going to the door she called Folces back to her.

”The praefect of Rome, good Folces?” she asked as soon as the man had entered, ”wilt see him again?”

”Taurus Antinor named Anglica.n.u.s hath left Rome to-day on his way to Syria, O Augusta!” said the man, humbly insisting on the name of his master.

”Dost not go with him?”

”He hath commanded me to stay here and to look after his household until such time as he doth direct.”

”His household?” she said. ”I had not thought of that. What is to become of his house in Rome, his villa at Ostia and his slaves?”

”The praefect of Rome,” said Folces, ”made ere he died a testament wherein he did command the freedom of all his slaves, and ordered a certain sum of money to be set aside which will enable even the humblest amongst us all to live decently like freedmen. The house in Rome and the villa at Ostia are to be sold, whilst the remainder of Taurus Antinor's private fortune is to be administered by his general agents. He said that he would see to it later on. I am still his slave; he did not confide in me.”

”Yet he asked thee to look after his household.”

”It will take a little time until the manumissio testamento can take effect. In the meanwhile we all are Taurus Antinor's slaves and must look after his houses until they have been sold.”