A Thorny Path — Complete

  CHAPTER X.

  The Nubian boat-keeper and his boy had soon ferried them across thelake. Melissa and her companion then turned off from the shore intoa street which must surely lead into that where the Christians dwelt.Still, even as she went on, she began to be doubtful whether she hadtaken the right one; and when she came out by a small temple, which shecertainly had not seen before, she knew not which way to go, for thestreets here crossed each other in a perfect labyrinth, and she was soonobliged to confess to her companion that she had lost her road. In themorning she had trusted herself to Andreas's knowledge of the town, andwhile talking eagerly to him had paid no heed to anything else.

  What was to be done? She stood meditating; and then she remembered thespot where she had seen Caesar drive past. This she thought she couldcertainly recognize, and from thence make her way to the street shesought.

  It was quite easy to find the street of Hermes, for the noise of therevelers, who were to-night even more numerous than usual in this busyhighway, could be heard at a considerable distance. They must follow itsguidance till they should come to the little temple of Aphrodite; andthat was a bold enterprise, for the crowd of men who haunted the spot atthis hour might possibly hinder and annoy two unescorted women. However,the elder woman was sturdy and determined, and sixty years of age; whileMelissa feared nothing, and thought herself sufficiently protected whenshe had arranged her kerchief so as to hide her face from curious eyes.

  As she made her way to the wide street with a throbbing heart, butquite resolved to find the house she sought at any cost, she heard men'svoices on a side street; however, she paid no heed to them, for how,indeed, could she guess that what they were saying could nearly concernher?

  The conversation was between a woman and a man in the white robe of aChristian priest. They were standing at the door of a large house; andclose to the wall, in the shadow of the porch of a building opposite,stood a youth, his hair covered by the hood of a long caracalla,listening with breathless attention.

  This was Alexander.

  He had been standing here for some time already, waiting for the returnof Agatha, the fair Christian whom he had followed across the lake, andwho had vanished into that house under the guidance of a deaconess.The door had not long closed on them when several men had also beenadmitted, whom he could not distinguish in the darkness, for the streetwas narrow and the moon still low.

  It was sheer folly--and yet he fancied that one of them was his father,for his deep, loud voice was precisely like that of Heron; and, what waseven more strange, that of the man who answered him seemed to proceedfrom his brother Philip. But, at such an hour, he could more easily havesupposed them to be on the top of Mount Etna than in this quarter of thetown.

  The impatient painter was very tired of waiting, so, seating himself ona feeding-manger for asses which stood in front of the adjoining house,he presently fell asleep. He was tired from the sleepless night he hadlast spent, and when he opened his eyes once more and looked down thestreet into which the moon was now shining, he did not know how longhe had been slumbering. Perhaps the damsel he wanted to see had alreadyleft the house, and he must see her again, cost him what it might; forshe was so amazingly like the dead Korinna whom he had painted, thathe could not shake off the notion that perhaps--for, after Serapion'sdiscourse, it seemed quite likely--perhaps he had seen the spirit of thedeparted girl.

  He had had some difficulty in persuading Glaukias, who had comeacross the lake with him, to allow him to follow up the fair visionunaccompanied; and his entreaties and prohibitions would probably alikehave proved vain, but that Glaukias held taken it into his head to showhis latest work, which a slave was carrying, to some friends over a jarof wine. It was a caricature of Caesar, whom he had seen at the KanopicGate, modeled while he was in the house of Polybius, with a few happytouches.

  When Alexander woke, he crept into the shadow of the porch opposite tothe house into which Korinna's double had disappeared, and he now had nolack of entertainment. A man came out of the tall white house and lookedinto the street, and the moonlight enabled the artist to see all thattook place.

  The tall youth who had come to the door wore the robe of a Christianpriest. Still, it struck Alexander that he was too young for such acalling; and he soon detected that he was certainly not what he seemed,but that there was some treachery in the wind; for no sooner had a womanjoined him, whom he evidently expected, than she blamed him for his wantof caution. To this he laughingly replied that he was too hot in hisdisguise, and, pulling out a false beard, he showed it to the woman, whowas dressed as a Christian deaconess, exclaiming, "That will do it!"

  He went on to tell her, in a quick, low tone, much of which escapedthe listener, that Serapion had dared much that day, and that theperformance had ended badly, for that the Christian girl he had socleverly persuaded to come from the other side of the lake had takenfright, and had insisted on knowing where she was.

  At this the deaconess seemed somewhat dismayed, and poured out endlessquestions in a low voice. He, however, cast all the blame on thephilosopher, whom his master had got hold of the day before. Then, asthe woman desired more particular information, he briefly told her thestory.

  The fair Agatha, he said, after being invited by him, at noon, in thename of Bishop Demetrius, to a meeting that evening, had reached theferryhouse at about sunset. She had been told that many things ofimmediate importance were to be announced to the maidens of theChristian congregation; more especially, a discussion was to be held asto the order issued by the prefect for their taking part in a processionin Caesar's honor when he should quit Alexandria. Old Dorothea had metthe girl at the ferry-house, and had brought her hither. The woman whohad attended her across the lake was certainly none of the wisest, forDorothea had easily persuaded her to remain in her house during themeeting.

  "Once there," the sham priest went on, "the girl's waiting-woman musthave had some dose in wine or sirup and water, for she is fast asleepat this moment in the ferry-house, or wherever Dorothea took her, as shecould not be allowed to wake under Dorothea's roof.

  "Thus every one was out of the way who could make any mischief; and whenthe Syrian, dressed as a Christian priest, had explained to Agatha whatthe patriarch required of his maidens, I led her on to the stage, onwhich the spectators were to see the ghosts through a small opening.

  "The Syrian had desired her to put up so many and such prayers for thecongregation in its peril from Caesar; and, by Aphrodite! she was asdocile as a lamb. She fell on her knees, and with hands and eyes toheaven entreated her god. But hark!

  "Did you hear anything? Something is stirring within. Well, I havenearly done.

  "The philosopher was to see her thus, and when he had gazed at her asif bewitched for some little time through the small window, he suddenlycried out, 'Korinna! Korinna!' and all sorts of nonsense, althoughSerapion had strictly forbidden him to utter a sound. Of course, thecurtain instantly dropped. But Agatha had heard him call, and in a greatfright she wanted to know where she was, and asked to go home.--Serapionwas really grand. You should have heard how the fox soothed the dove,and at the same time whispered to me what you now are to do!"

  "I?" said the woman, with some annoyance. "If he thinks that I will riskmy good name in the congregation for the sake of his long beard--"

  "Just be quiet," said Castor, in a pacifying tone. "The master's beardhas nothing to do with the case, but something much more substantial.Ten solidi, full weight, shall be yours if you will take Agatha homewith you, or safe across the lake again, and pretend to have saved herfrom mystics or magicians who have decoyed her to some evil end. Sheknows you as a Christian deaconess, and will go with you at once. If yourestore her to her father, he is rich, and will not send you empty away.Tell him that you heard her voice out in the street, and with the helpof a worthy old man--that am I--rescued her from any peril you mayinvent. If he asks you where the heroic deed was done, name any houseyou please, only not this. Your best plan is to lay it all on
theshoulders of Hananja, the thaumaturgist; we have owed him a grudge thismany a day. However, I was not to teach you any lesson, for your witsare at least a match for ours."

  "Flattery will not win me," the woman broke in. "Where is the gold?"

  Castor handed her the solidi wrapped in a papyrus leaf, and then added:

  "Stay one moment! I must remove this white robe. The girl must on noaccount recognize me. I am going to force my way into the house withyou--you found me in the street, an old man, a total stranger, andappealed to me for help. No harm is done, nothing lost but Dorothea'scredit among the Christians. We may have to get her safe out of thetown. I must escort you and Agatha, for nothing unpleasant must happento her on the way home. The master is imperative on that point, and somuch beauty will certainly not get through the crowded streets withoutremark. And for my part, I, of course, am thinking of yours."

  Here Castor laughed aloud, and rolled the white robe into a bundle.Alexander peeped out of his nook and shook his head in amazement, forthe supple youth, who a moment before stood stalwart and upright, hadassumed, with a bent attitude and a long, white beard hastily placed onhis chin, the aspect of a weary, poor old man.

  "I will give you a lesson!" muttered Alexander to himself, and he shookhis fist at the intriguing rascal as he vanished into the house with thefalse deaconess.

  So Serapion was a cheat! And the supposed ghost of Korinna was aChristian maiden who was being shamefully deluded. But he would keepwatch over her, and bring that laughing villain to account. The firstaim of his life was not to lose sight of Agatha. His whole happiness,he felt, depended on that. The gods had, as it were, raised her from thedead for him; in her, everything that he most admired was united; shewas the embodiment of everything he cared for and prized; every feelingsank into the shade beside the one desire to make her his. She was,at this moment, the universe to him; and all else--the pursuers at hisheels, his father, his sister, pretty Ino, to whom he had vowed his loveonly the night before--had ceased to exist for him.

  Possessed wholly by the thought of her, he never took his eyes off thedoor opposite; and when at last the maiden came out with the deaconess,whom she called Elizabeth, and with Castor, Alexander followed theill-matched trio; and he had to be brisk, for at first they hurriedthrough the streets as though they feared to be overtaken. He carefullykept close to the houses on the shady side, and when they presentlystopped, so did he.

  The deaconess inquired of Agatha whither she would be taken. But whenthe girl replied that she must go back to her own boat, waiting atthe ferry, and return home, the deaconess represented that this wasimpossible by reason of the drunken seamen, who at this hour made thestrand unsafe; she could only advise Agatha to come home with her andremain till daybreak. "This kind old man," and she pointed to Castor,"would no doubt go and tell the oarsmen that they were not to be uneasyat her absence."

  The two women stood talking in the broad moonlight, and the palebeams fell on Agatha's beautiful unveiled features, giving them thatunearthly, corpse-like whiteness which Alexander had tried to representin his picture of Korinna. Again the thought that she was risen from thedead sent a chill through his blood--that she would make him follow her,perhaps to the tomb she had quitted. He cared not! If his senses hadcheated him--if,--in spite of what he had heard, that pale, unspeakablylovely image were indeed a lamia, a goblin shape from Hecate's darkabode, yet would he follow wherever she might lead, as to a festival,only to be with her.

  Agatha thanked the deaconess, and as she spoke raised her eyes to thewoman's face; and they were two large, dark orbs sparkling throughtears, and as unlike as possible to the eyes which a ghost might snatchfrom their sockets to fling like balls or stones in the face of apursuer. Oh, if only those eyes might look into his own as warmly andgratefully as they now gazed into the face of that treacherous woman!

  He had a hard struggle with himself to subdue the impulse to put anend, now and here, to the fiendish tricks which guile was playing on thepurest innocence; but the street was deserted, and if he had to strugglewith the bent old man, whose powerful and supple limbs he had alreadyseen, and if the villain should plant a knife in his ribs--for asa wrestler he felt himself his match--Agatha would be bereft of aprotector and wholly in the deceiver's power.

  This, at any rate, must not be, and he even controlled himself whenhe heard the music of her words, and saw her grasp the hand of thepretended graybeard, who, with an assumption of paternal kindness, daredto kiss her hair, and then helped her to draw her kerchief over herface. The street of Hermes, he explained, where the deaconess dwelt,was full of people, and the divine gift of beauty, wherewith Heaven hadblessed her, would attract the baser kind, as a flame attracts bats andmoths. The hypocrite's voice was full of unction; the deaconess spokewith pious gravity. He could see that she was a woman of middle age, andhe asked himself with rising fury whether the gods were not guilty whohad lent mean wretches like these such winning graces as to enablethem to lay traps for the guileless? For, in fact, the woman's face waswell-favored, gentle, and attractive.

  Alexander never took his gaze off Agatha, and his artist-eye reveledin her elastic step and her slender, shapely form. Above all, he wasbewitched by the way her head was set, with a little forward bend; andas long as the way led through the silent lanes he was never weary ofcomparing her with lovely images-with a poppy, whose flower bows thestem; with a willow, whose head leans over the water; with the huntressArtemis, who, chasing in the moonlight, bends to mark the game.

  Thus, unwearied and unseen, he had followed them as far as the street ofHermes; there his task became more difficult, for the road was swarmingwith people. The older men were walking in groups of five or six, goingto or coming from some evening assembly, and talking as they walked; orpriests and temple servants on their way home, tired from night servicesand ceremonies; but the greater number were young men and boys, somewearing wreaths, and all more or less intoxicated, with street-wencheson the lookout for a companion or surrounded by suitors, and trying toattract a favorite or dismiss the less fortunate.

  The flare of the torches which illuminated the street was mirrored ineager eyes glowing with wine and passion, and in the glittering weaponsof the Roman soldiery. Most of these were attached to Caesar's train. Asin the field, so in the peaceful town, they aimed at conquest, and manya Greek sulkily resigned his claims to some fickle beauty in favor of anirresistible tribune or centurion. Where the courteous Alexandriansmade way, they pushed in or thrust aside whatever came in theirpath, securely confident of being Caesar's favorite protectors, andunassailable while he was near. Their coarse, barbaric tones shook theair, and reduced the Greeks to silence; for, even in his drunken andmost reckless moods, the Greek never lost his subtle refinement. Thewarriors rarely met a friendly glance from the eye of a native; still,the gold of these lavish revelers was as welcome to the women as that ofa fellow-countryman.

  The blaze of light shone, too, on many a fray, such as flared up inan instant whenever Greek and Roman came into contact. The lictors andtownwatch could generally succeed in parting the combatants, for theorders of the authorities were that they should in every case side withthe Romans.

  The shouts and squabbling of men, the laughing and singing of women,mingled with the word of command. Flutes and lyres, cymbals and drums,were heard from the trellised tavern arbors and cook-shops along theway; and from the little temple to Aphrodite, where Melissa had promisedto meet the Roman physician next morning, came the laughter and song ofunbridled lovers. As a rule, the Kanopic Way was the busiest and gayeststreet in the town; but on this night the street of Hermes had been themost popular, for it led to the Serapeum, where Caesar was lodged; andfrom the temple poured a tide of pleasure-seekers, mingling with theflood of humanity which streamed on to catch a glimpse of imperialsplendor, or to look at the troops encamped on the space in front of theSerapeum. The whole street was like a crowded fair; and Alexander hadseveral times to follow Agatha and her escort out into the roadway,quitting the s
helter of the arcade, to escape a party of rioters or theimpertinent addresses of strangers.

  The sham old man, however, was so clever at making way for the damsel,whose face and form were effectually screened by her kerchief from thepassers-by, that Alexander had no opportunity for offering her his aid,or proving his devotion by some gallant act. That it was his duty tosave her from the perils of spending a whole night under the protectionof this venal deceiver and her worthless colleague, he had long sinceconvinced himself; still, the fear of bringing her into a more painfulposition by attracting the attention of the crowd if he were to attackher escort, kept him back.

  They had now stopped again under the colonnade, on the left-hand sideof the road. Castor had taken the girl's hand, and, as he bade hergood-night, promised, in emphatic tones, to be with her again very earlyand escort her to the lake. Agatha thanked him warmly. At this a stormof rage blew Alexander's self-command to the four winds, and, before heknew what he was doing; he stood between the rascal and the Christiandamsel, snatched their hands asunder, gripping Castor's wrist withhis strong right hand, while he held Agatha's firmly in his left, andexclaimed:

  "You are being foully tricked, fair maid; the woman, even, is deceivingyou. This fellow is a base villain!"

  And, releasing the arm which Castor was desperately but vainly trying tofree from his clutch, he snatched off the false beard.

  Agatha, who had also been endeavoring to escape from his grasp, gavea shriek of terror and indignation. The unmasked rogue, with a swiftmovement, snatched the hood of the caracalla off Alexander's head, flewat his throat with the fury and agility of a panther, and with muchpresence of mind called for help. And Castor was strong too whileAlexander tried to keep him off with his right hand, holding on toAgatha with his left, the shouts of the deaconess and her accomplicesoon collected a crowd. They were instantly surrounded by an inquisitivemob, laughing or scolding the combatants, and urging them to fight orbeseeching them to separate. But just as the artist had succeeded intwisting his opponent's wrist so effectually as to bring him to hisknees, a loud voice of malignant triumph, just behind him, exclaimed:

  "Now we have snared our scoffer! The fox should not stop to kill thehare when the hunters are at his heels!"

  "Zminis!" gasped Alexander. He understood in a flash that life andliberty were at stake.

  Like a stag hemmed in by dogs, he turned his head to this side and that,seeking a way of escape; and when he looked again where his antagonisthad stood, the spot was clear; the nimble rascal had taken to his heelsand vanished among the throng. But a pair of eyes met the painter'sgaze, which at once restored him to self-possession, and reminded himthat he must collect his wits and presence of mind. They were those ofhis sister Melissa, who, as she made her way onward with her companion,had recognized her brother's voice. In spite of the old woman's earnestadvice not to mix in the crowd, she had pushed her way through, and, asthe men-at-arms dispersed the mob, she came nearer to her favorite buttoo reckless brother.

  Alexander still held Agatha's hand. The poor girl herself, tremblingwith terror, did not know what had befallen her. Her venerable escortwas a young man--a liar. What was she to think of the deaconess, whowas his confederate; what of this handsome youth who had unmasked thedeceiver, and saved her perhaps from some fearful fate?

  As in a thunder-storm flash follows flash, so, in this dreadful night,one horror had followed another, to bewilder the brain of a maiden whohad always lived a quiet life among good and quiet men and women. Andnow the guardians of the peace had laid hands on the man who had sobravely taken her part, and whose bright eyes had looked into her ownwith such truth and devotion. He was to be dragged to prison; so he,too, no doubt, was a criminal. At this thought she tried to release herhand, but he would not let it go; for the deaconess had come close toAgatha, and, in a tone of sanctimonious wrath, desired her to quit thisscene.

  What was she to do? Terrified and undecided, with deceit on one hand andon the other peril and perhaps disaster, she looked first at Elizabethand then at Alexander, who, in spite of the threats of the man-at-arms,gazed in turns at her and at the spot where his sister had stood.

  The lictors who were keeping off the mob had stopped Melissa too; butwhile Alexander had been gazing into Agatha's imploring eyes, feelingas though all his blood had rushed to his heart and face, Melissa hadcontrived to creep up close to him. And again the sight of her gave himthe composure he so greatly needed. He knew, indeed, that the handwhich still held Agatha's would in a moment be fettered, for Zminishad ordered his slaves to bring fresh ropes and chains, since they hadalready found use for those they had first brought out. It was to thiscircumstance alone that he owed it that he still was free. And, aboveall things, he must warn Agatha against the deaconess, who would fainpersuade her to go with her.

  It struck his alert wit that Agatha would trust his sister rather thanhimself, whom the Egyptian had several times abused as a criminal;and seeing the old woman of Polybius's household making her way up toMelissa, out of breath, indeed, and with disordered hair, he felt lightdawn on his soul, for this worthy woman was a fresh instrument to hishand. She must know Agatha well, if the girl were indeed the daughter ofZeno.

  He lost not an instant. With swift decision, while Zminis and his menwere disputing as to whither they should conduct the traitor as soon asthe fetters were brought, he released the maiden's hand, placing it inMelissa's, and exclaiming:

  "This is my sister, the betrothed of Diodoros, Polybius's son--yourneighbor, if you are the daughter of Zeno. She will take care of you."Agatha had at once recognized the old nurse, and when she confirmedAlexander's statement, and the Christian looked in Melissa's face, shesaw beyond the possibility of doubt an innocent woman, whose heart shemight fully trust.

  She threw her arm round Melissa, as if to lean on her, and the deaconessturned away with well-curbed wrath and vanished into an open door.

  All this had occupied but a very few minutes; and when Alexander sawthe two beings he most loved in each other's embrace, and Agatha rescuedfrom the deceiver and in safe keeping, he drew a deep breath, saying tohis sister, as if relieved from a heavy burden:

  "Her name is Agatha, and to her, the image of the dead Korinna, my lifehenceforth is given. Tell her this, Melissa."

  His impassioned glance sought that of the Christian; and when shereturned it, blushing, but with grateful candor, his mirthful featuresbeamed with the old reckless jollity, and he glanced again at the crowdabout him.

  What did he see there? Melissa observed that his whole face was suddenlylighted up; and when Zminis signed to the man who was making his way tothe spot holding up the rope, Alexander began to sing the first wordsof a familiar song. In an instant it was taken up by several voices, andthen, as if from an echo, by the whole populace.

  It was the chant by which the lads in the Gymnasium of Timagetes werewont to call on each other for help when they had a fray with thoseof the Gymnasium of the Dioscuri, with whom they had a chronic feud.Alexander had caught sight of his friends Jason and Pappus, of thesculptor Glaukias, and of several other fellow-artists; they understoodthe appeal, and, before the night-watch could use the rope on theircaptive, the troop of young men had forced their way through the circleof armed men under the leadership of Glaukias, had surrounded Alexander,and run off with him in their midst, singing and shouting.

  "Follow him! Catch him! Stop him!--living or dead, bring him back! Aprice is on his head--a splendid price to any one who will take him!"cried the Egyptian, foaming with rage and setting the example. But theyouth of the town, many of whom knew the artist, and who were at alltimes ready to spoil sport for the sycophants and spies, crowded upbetween the fugitive and his pursuers and barred the way.

  The lictors and their underlings did indeed, at last, get through thesolid wall of shouting and scolding men and women; but by that time thetroop of artists had disappeared down a side street.