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_ NEITHER could Vinicius discover the cause of what had
happened; and in the bottom of his soul he was almost as much
astonishe& as Chio. That those people should treat him as they
had, and, instead of avenging his attack, dress his wounds
carefully, he ascribed partly to the doctrine which they confessed,
more to Lygia, and a little, also, to his great significance. But their
conduct with Chilo simply went beyond his understanding of man's
power of forgiveness. And the question thrust itself into his mind:
Why did they not kill the Greek? They might have killed him with
impunity. Ursus would have buried him in the garden, or borne
him in the dark to the Tiber, which during that period of
night-murders, committed by Caesar himself even, cast up human
bodies so frequently in the morning that no one inquired whence
they came. To his thinking, the Christians had not only the power,
but the right to kill Chio. True, pity was not entirely a stranger to
that world to which the young patrician belonged. The Athenians
raised an altar to pity, and opposed for a long time the introduction
of gladiatorial combats into Athens. In Rome itself the conquered
received pardon sometimes, as, for in-stance, Calicratus, king of
the Britons, who, taken prisoner in the time of Claudius, and
provided for by him bountifully, dwelt in the city in freedom. But
vengeance for a personal wrong seemed to Vinicius, as to all,
proper and justified. The neglect of it was entirely opposed to his
spirit. True, he had heard in Ostrianum that one should love even
enemies; that, however, he considered as a kind of theory without
application in life. And now this passed through his head: that
perhaps they had not killed Chilo because the day was among
festivals, or was in some period of the moon during which it was
not proper for Christians to kill a man. He had heard that there are
days among various nations on which it is not permitted to begin
war even. But why, in such a case, did they not deliver the Greek
up to justice? Why did the Apostle say that if a man offended
seven times, it was necessary to forgive him seven times; and why
did Glaucus say to Chio, "May God forgive thee, as I forgive
thee"?
Chilo had done him the most terrible wrong that one man could do
another. At the very thought of how he would act with a man who
killed Lygia, for instance, the heart of Vinicius seethed up, as does
water in a caldron; there were no torments which he would not
inflict in his vengeance! But Glaucus had forgiven; Ursus, too, had
forgiven, -- Ursus, who might in fact kill whomever he wished in
Rome with perfect impunity, for all he needed was to kill the king
of the grove in Nemi, and take his place. Could the gladiator
holding that office to which he had succeeded only by killing the
previous "king," resist the man whom Croton could not resist?
There was only one answer to all these questions: that they
refrained from killing him through a goodness so great that the like
of it had not been in the world up to that time, and through an
unbounded love of man, which commands to forget one's self,
one's wrongs, one's happiness and misfortune, and live for others.
What reward those people were to receive for this, Vinicius heard
in Ostrianum, but he could not understand it. He felt, however, that
the earthly life connected with the duty of renouncing everything
good and rich for the benefit of others must be wretched. So in
what he thought of the Christians at that moment, besides the
greatest astonishment, there was pity, and as it were a shade of
contempt. It seemed to him that they were sheep which earlier or
later must be eaten by wolves; his Roman nature could yield no
recognition to people who let themselves be devoured. This one
thing struck him, however, -- that after Chilo's departure the faces
of all were bright with a certain deep joy. The Apostle approached
Glaucus, placed his hand on his head, and said, -- "In thee Christ
has triumphed."
The other raised his eyes, which were full of hope, and as bright
with joy as if some great unexpected happiness had been poured
on him. Vinicius, who could understand only joy or delight born of
vengeance, looked on him with eyes staring from fever, and
somewhat as he would on a madman. He saw, however, and saw
not without internal indignation, that Lygia pressed her lips of a
queen to the hand of that man, who had the appearance of a slave;
and it seemed to him that the order of the world was inverted
utterly. Next Ursus told how he had conducted Chilo to the street,
and had asked forgiveness for the harm which he might have done
his bones; for this the Apostle blessed him also. Crispus declared
that it was a day of great victory. Hearing of this victory, Vinicius
lost the thread of his thought altogether.
But when Lygia gave him a cooling draught again, he held her
hand for a moment, and asked, -- "Then must thou also forgive
me?" "We are Christians; it is not permitted us to keep anger in the
heart." "Lygia," said he, "whoever thy God is, I honor Him only
because He is thine."
"Thou wilt honor Him in thy heart when thou lovest Him."
"Only because He is thine," repeated Vinicius, in a fainter voice;
and he closed his eyes, for weakness had mastered him again.
Lygia went out, but returned after a time, and bent over him to
learn if he were sleeping. Vinicius, feeling that she was near,
opened his eyes and smiled. She placed her hand over them lightly,
as if to incline him to slumber. A great sweetness seized him then;
but soon he felt more grievously ill than before, and was very ill in
reality. Night had come, and with it a more violent fever. He could
not sleep, and followed Lygia with his eyes wherever she went.
At times he fell into a kind of doze, in which he saw and heard
everything which happened around him, but in which reality was
mingled with feverish dreams. It seemed to him that in some old,
deserted cemetery stood a temple, in the form of a tower, in which
Lygia was priestess. He did not take his eyes from her, but saw her
on the summit of the tower, with a lute in her hands, all in the
light, like those priestesses who in the night-time sing hymns in
honor of the moon, and whom he had seen in the Orient. He
himself was climbing up winding steps, with great effort, to bear
her away with him. Behind was creeping up Chio, with teeth
chattering from terror, and repeating, "Do not do that, lord; she is a
priestess, for whom He will take vengeance." Vinicius did not
know who that He was, but he understood that he himself was
going to commit some sacrilege, and he felt a boundless fear also.
But when he went to the balustrade surrounding the summit of the
tower, the Apostle with his silvery beard stood at Lygia's side on a
sudden, and said:
"Do not raise a hand; she belongs to me." Then he moved forward
with her, on a path formed by rays from the moon, as if on a path
made to heaven. He stretched his hands toward them, and begged
both to take him into their company.
Here he woke, became conscious, and looked before him. The
lamp on the tall staff shone more dimly, but still cast a light
sufficiently clear. All were sitting in front of the fire warming
themselves, for the night was chilly, and the chamber rather cold.
Vinicius saw the breath coming as steam from their lips. In the
midst of them sat the Apostle; at his knees, on a low footstool, was
Lygia; farther on, Glaucus, Crispus, Miriam, and at the edge, on
one side Ursus, on the other Miriam's son Nazarius, a youth with a
handsome face, and long, dark hair reaching down to his
shoulders.
Lygia listened with eyes raised to the Apostle, and every head was
turned toward him, while he told something in an undertone.
Vinicius gazed at Peter with a certain superstitious awe, hardly
inferior to that terror which he felt during the fever dream. The
thought passed through his mind that that dream had touched truth;
that the gray-haired man there, freshly come from distant shores,
would take Lygia from him really, and take her somewhere away
by unknown paths. He felt sure also that the old man was speaking
of him, perhaps telling how to separate him from Lygia, for it
seemed to him impossible that any one could speak of aught else.
Hence, collecting all his presence of mind, he listened to Peter's
words.
But he was mistaken altogether, for the Apostle was speaking of
Christ again.
"They live only through that name," thought Vinicius.
The old man was describing the seizure of Christ. "A company
came, and servants of the priest to seize Him. When the Saviour
asked whom they were seeking, they answered, 'Jesus of Nazareth.'
But when He said to them, 'I am He,' they fell on the ground, and
dared not raise a hand on Him. Only after the second inquiry did
they seize Him."
Here the Apostle stopped, stretched his hands toward the fire and
continued: -- "The night was cold, like this one, but the heart in me
was seething; so, drawing a sword to defend Him, I cut an ear from
the servant of the high-priest. I would have defended Him more
than my own life had He not said to me, 'Put thy sword into the
sheath: the cup which my Father has given me, shall I not drink it?'
Then they seized and bound Him."
When he had spoken thus far, Peter placed his palm on his
forehead, and was silent, wishing before he went further to stop
the crowd of his recollections. But Ursus, unable to restrain
himself, sprang to his feet, trimmed the light on the staff till the
sparks scattered in golden rain and the flame shot up with more
vigor. Then he sat down, and exclaimed:
"No matter what happened. I --"
He stopped suddenly, for Lygia had put her finger to her lips. But
he breathed loudly, and it was clear that a storm was in his soul;
and though he was ready at all times to kiss the feet of the Apostle,
that act was one he could not accept; if some one in his presence
had raised hands on the Redeemer, if he had been with Him on
that night -- Oi! splinters would have shot from the soldiers, the
servants of the priest, and the officials. Tears came to his eyes at
the very thought of this, and because of his sorrow and mental
struggle; for on the one hand he thought that he would not only
have defended the Redeemer, but would have called Lygians to his
aid, -- splendid fellows, -- and on the other, if he had acted thus he
would have disobeyed the Redeemer, and hindered the salvation of
man. For this reason he could not keep back his tears.
After a while Peter took his palm from his forehead, and resumed
the narrative. But Vinicius was overpowered by a new feverish,
waking dream. What he heard now was in his mind mixed up with
what the Apostle had told the night previous in Ostrianum, of that
day in which Christ appeared on the shore of the sea of Tiberius.
He saw a sheet of water broadly spread out; on it the boat of a
fisherman, and in the boat Peter and Lygia. He himself was
moving with all his might after that boat, but pain in his broken
arm prevented him from reaching it. The wind hurled waves in his
eyes, he began to sink, and called with entreating voice for rescue.
Lygia knelt down then before the Apostle, who turned his boat,
and reached an oar, which Vinicius seized: with their assistance he
entered the boat and fell on the bottom of it.
It seemed to him, then, that he stood up, and saw a multitude of
people sailing after them. Waves covered their heads with foam; in
the whirl only the hands of a few could be seen; but Peter saved
the drowning time after time, and gathered them into his boat,
which grew larger, as if by a miracle. Soon crowds filled it, as
numerous as those which were collected in Ostrianum, and then
still greater crowds. Vinicius wondered how they could find place
there, and he was afraid that they would sink to the bottom. But
Lygia pacified him by showing him a light on the distant shore
toward which they were sailing. These dream pictures of Vinicius
were blended again with descriptions which he had heard in
Ostrianum, from the lips of the Apostle, as to how Christ had
appeared on the lake once. So that he saw now in that light on the
shore a certain form toward which Peter was steering, and as he
approached it the weather grew calmer, the water grew smoother,
the light became greater. The crowd began to sing sweet hymns;
the air was filled with the odor of nard; the play of water formed a
rainbow, as if from the bottom of the lake lilies and roses were
looking, and at last the boat struck its breast safely against the
sand. Lygia took his hand then, and said, "Come, I will lead thee!"
and she led him to the light.
Vinicius woke again; but his dreaming ceased slowly, and he did
not recover at once the sense of reality. It seemed for a time to
'him that he was still on the lake, and surrounded by crowds,
among which, not knowing the reason himself, he began to look
for Petronius, and was astonished not to find him. The bright light
from the chimney, at which there was no one at that time, brought
him completely to his senses. Olive sticks were burning slowly
under the rosy ashes; but the splinters of pine, which evidently had
been put there some moments before, shot up a bright flame, and
in the light of this, Vinicius saw Lygia, sitting not far from his
bedside.
The sight of her touched him to the depth of his soul. He
remembered that she had spent the night before in Ostrianum, and
had busied herself the whole day in nursing him, and now when all
had gone to rest, she was the only one watching. It was easy to
divine that she must be wearied, for while sitting motionless her
eyes were closed. Vinicius knew not whether she was sleeping or
sunk in thought. He looked at her profile, at her drooping lashes, at
her hands lying on her knees; and in his pagan head the idea began
to hatch with difficulty that at the side of naked beauty, confident,
and proud of Greek and Roman symmetry, there is another in the
world, new, immensely pure, in which a soul has its dwelling.
He could not bring himself so far as to call it Christian, but,
thinking of Lygia, he could not separate her from the religion
which she confessed. He understood, even, that if all the others
had gone to rest, and she alone were watching, she whom he had
injured, it was because her religion commanded her to watch. But
that thought, which filled him with wonder for the religion, was
disagreeable to him. He would rather that Lygia acted thus out of
love for him, his face, his eyes, his statuesque form, -- in a word
for reasons because of which more than once snow-white Grecian
and Roman arms had been wound around his neck.
Still he felt all at once, that, were she like other women, something
would be lacking in her. He was amazed, and knew not what was
happening in him; for he saw that new feelings of some kind were
rising in him, new likings, strange to the world in which he had
lived hitherto.
She opened her eyes then, and, seeing that Vinicius was gazing at
her, she approached him and said, -- "I am with thee."
"I saw thy soul in a dream," replied he. _
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