CHAPTER XV.
Nothing delighted old Dido more than to dress the daughter of herbeloved mistress in all her best, for she had helped to bring her up;but to-day it was a cruel task; tears dimmed her old eyes. It was nottill she had put the finishing touches to braiding the girl's abundantbrown hair, pinned her peplos on the shoulders with brooches, and setthe girdle straight, that her face cleared, as she looked at the result.Never had she seen her darling look so fair. Nothing, indeed, remainedof the child-like timidity and patient submissiveness which had touchedDido only two days since, as she plaited Melissa's hair. The maiden'sbrow was grave and thoughtful, the lips firmly set; but she seemed toDido to have grown, and to have gained something of her mother's maturedignity. She looked, the old woman told her, like the image of PallasAthene; adding, to make her smile, that if she wanted an owl, she,Dido, could fill the part. Jesting had never been the old woman's strongpoint, and to-day it was less easy than ever; for, if the worst befell,and she were sent in her old age to a strange house--and Argutis, nodoubt, to another--she would have to turn the handmill for the rest ofher days.
But it was a hard task which the motherless--and now fatherless--girlhad set herself, and she must try to cheer her darling. While she wasdressing her, she never ceased praying to all the gods and goddesses shecould think of to come to the maiden's aid and move the souls of thosewho could help her. And though she was, as a rule, ready to expect theworst, this time she hoped for the best; for Seleukus's wife must have aheart of stone if she could close it to such innocence, such beauty, andthe pathetic glance of those large, imploring eyes.
When at length Melissa quitted the house, deeply veiled, with Argutis toescort her, she took his arm; and he, wearing his master's mantle, andexempted long since from keeping his hair cropped, was so proud of thisthat he walked with all the dignity of a freeman, and no one could haveguessed that he was a slave. Melissa's face was completely hidden,and she, like her companion, was safe from recognition. Argutis,nevertheless, led her through the quietest and darkest lanes to theKanopic way. Both were silent, and looked straight before them. Melissa,as she walked on, could not think with her usual calm. Like a sufferingman who goes to the physician's house to die or be cured by the knife,she felt that she was on her way to something terrible in itself,to remedy, if possible, something still more dreadful. Herfather--Alexander, so reckless and so good-hearted--Philip, whom shepitied--and her sick lover, came in turn before her fancy. But she couldnot control her mind to dwell on either for long. Nor could she, asusual, when she had any serious purpose in hand, put up a prayer to hermother's manes or the immortals; and all the while an inner voice madeitself heard, confidently promising her that Caesar, for whom shehad sacrificed, and who might be kinder and more merciful than othersfancied, would at once grant all she should ask. But she would notlisten; and when she nevertheless ventured to consider how she couldmake her way into Caesar's presence, a cold shiver ran down her back,and again Philip's last words sounded in her ears, "Death rather thandishonor!"
Other thoughts and feelings filled the slave's soul. He, who had alwayswatched over his master's children with far more anxious care thanHeron himself, had not said a word to dissuade Melissa from her perilousexpedition. Her plan had, indeed, seemed to him the only one whichpromised any success. He was a man of sixty years, and a shrewd fellow,who might easily have found a better master than Heron had been; buthe gave not a thought to his own prospects--only to Melissa's, whomhe loved as a child of his own. She had placed herself under hisprotection, and he felt responsible for her fate. Thus he regarded it asgreat good fortune that he could be of use in procuring her admissionto the house of Seleukus, for the door-keeper was a fellow-countrymanof his, whom Fate had brought hither from the banks of the Moselle. Atevery festival, which secured a few hours' liberty to all the slaves,they had for years been boon companions, and Argutis knew that hisfriend would do for him and his young mistress all that lay in hispower. It would, of course, be difficult to get an audience of themistress of a house where Caesar was a guest, but the door-keeper wasclever and ingenious, and would do anything short of the impossible.
So he walked with his head high and his heart full of pride, and itconfirmed his courage when one of Zminis's men, whom they passed inthe brightly illuminated Kanopic street, and who had helped to securePhilip, looked at him without recognizing him.
There was a great stir in this, the handsomest road through the city.The people were waiting for Caesar; but stricter order was observed thanon the occasion of his arrival. The guard prohibited all traffic on thesouthern side of the way, and only allowed the citizens to walk up anddown the footpath, shaded by trees, between the two roadways paved withgranite flags, and the arcades in front of the houses on either side.The free inhabitants, unaccustomed to such restrictions, revengedthemselves by cutting witticisms at Caesar's expense, "for clearing thestreets of Alexandria by his men-at-arms as he did those of Rome by theexecutioner. He seemed to have forgotten, as he kept the two roadsopen, that he only needed one, now that he had murdered his brother andpartner."
Melissa and her companion were ordered to join the crowd on the footway;but Argutis managed to convince a man on guard that they were two of themimes who were to perform before Caesar--the door-keeper at the house ofSeleukus would confirm the fact--and the official himself made way forthem into the vestibule of this splendid dwelling.
But Melissa was as little in the humor to admire all the lavishmagnificence which surrounded her as Alexander had been a few dayssince. Still veiled, she modestly took a place among the choir who stoodon each side of the hall ready to welcome Caesar with singing andmusic. Argutis stopped to speak with his friend. She dimly felt that thewhispering and giggling all about her was at her expense; and when anelderly, man, the choir-master, asked her what she wanted, and desiredher to remove her veil, she obeyed at once, saying: "Pray let me standhere, the Lady Berenike will send for me."
"Very well," replied the musician; and he silenced the singers, who werehazarding various impertinent guesses as to the arrival of so pretty agirl just when Caesar was expected.
As Melissa dropped her veil the splendor of the scene, lighted up bynumberless tapers and lamps, forced itself on her attention. She nowperceived that the porphyry columns of the great hall were wreathed withflowers, and that garlands swung in graceful curves from the open roof;while at the farther end, statues had been placed of Septimus Severusand Julia Domna, Caracalla's parents. On each side of these works ofart stood bowers of plants, in which gay-plumaged birds were flutteringabout, excited by the lights. But all these glories swam before hereyes, and the first question which the artist's daughter was wont to askherself, "is it really beautiful or no?" never occurred to her mind. Shedid not even notice the smell of incense, until some fresh powder wasthrown on, and it became oppressive.
She was fully conscious only of two facts, when at last Argutisreturned: that she was the object of much curious examination and thatevery one was wondering what detained Caesar so long.
At last, after she had waited many long minutes, the door-keeperapproached her with a young woman in a rich but simple dress, in whomshe recognized Johanna, the Christian waiting-maid of whom Alexander hadspoken. She did not speak, but beckoned her to come.
Breathing anxiously, and bending her head low, Melissa, following herguide, reached a handsome impluvium, where a fountain played in themidst of a bed of roses. Here the moon and starlight mingled with thatof lamps without number, and the ruddy glare of a blaze; for all roundthe basin, from which the playing waters danced skyward, stood marblegenii, carrying in their hands or on their heads silver dishes, in whichthe leaping flames consumed cedar chips and aromatic resins.
At the back of this court, where it was as light as day, at the top ofthree steps, stood the statues of Alexander the Great and Caracalla.They were of equal size; and the artist, who had wrought the second ingreat haste out of the slightest materials, had been enjoined to makeCaesar as like as p
ossible in every respect to the hero he most revered.Thus they looked like brothers. The figures were lighted up by the fireswhich burned on two altars of ivory and gold. Beautiful boys, dressed asarmed Erotes, fed the flames.
The whole effect was magical and bewildering; but, as she followed herguide, Melissa only felt that she was in the midst of a new world, suchas she might perhaps have seen in a dream; till, as they passed thefountain, the cool drops sprinkled her face.
Then she suddenly remembered what had brought her hither. In aminute she must appear as a supplicant in the presence of Korinna'smother--perhaps even in that of Caesar himself--and the fate of all dearto her depended on her demeanor. The sense of fulfilling a serious dutywas uppermost in her mind. She drew herself up, and replaced a straylock of hair; and her heart beat almost to bursting as she saw a numberof, men standing on the platform at the top of the steps, round a ladywho had just risen from her ivory seat. Giving her hand to a Romansenator, distinguished by the purple edge to his toga, she descended thesteps, and advanced to meet Melissa.
This dignified matron, who was awaiting the ruler of the world and yetcould condescend to come forward to meet a humble artist's daughter,was taller by half a head than her illustrious companion; and the fewminutes during which Berenike was coming toward her were enough to fillMelissa with thankfulness, confidence, and admiration. And even in thatshort time, as she gazed at the magnificent dress of blue brocade shotwith gold and sparkling with precious stones which draped the lady'smajestic figure, she thought how keen a pang it must cost the mother,so lately bereft of her only child, to maintain a kindly, nay, a genialaspect, in the midst of this display, toward Caesar and a troop of noisyguests.
The sincerest pity for this woman, rich and preeminent as she was,filled the soul of the girl, who herself was so much to be pitied. Butwhen the lady had come up to her, and asked, in her deep voice, whatwas the danger that threatened her brother, Melissa, with unembarrassedgrace, and although it was the first time she had ever addressed a ladyof such high degree, answered simply, with a full sense of the businessin hand:
"My name is Melissa; I am the sister of Alexander the painter. I knowit is overbold to venture into your presence just now, when you haveso much else to think of; but I saw no other way of saving my brother'slife, which is in peril."
At this Berenike seemed surprised. She turned to her companion, who washer sister's husband, and the first Egyptian who had been admitted tothe Roman Senate, and said, in a tone of gentle reproach:
"Did not I say so, Coeranus? Nothing but the most urgent need would havebrought Alexander's sister to speak with me at such an hour."
And the senator, whose black eyes had rested with pleasure on Melissa'srare beauty, promptly replied, "And if she had come for the veriesttrifle she would be no less welcome to me."
"Let me hear no more of such speeches," Berenike exclaimed with someannoyance.--"Now, my child, be quick. What about your brother?"
Melissa briefly and truthfully reported Alexander's heedless crime andthe results to her father and Philip. She ended by beseeching the noblelady with fervent pathos to intercede for her father and brothers.
Meanwhile the senator's keen face had darkened, and the lady Berenike'slarge eyes, too, were downcast. She evidently found it hard to come toa decision; and for the moment she was relieved of the necessity, forrunners came hurrying up, and the senator hastily desired Melissa tostand aside.
He whispered to his sister-in-law:
"It will never do to spoil Caesar's good-humor under your roof for thesake of such people," and Berenike had only time to reply, "I am notafraid of him," when the messenger explained to her that Caesar himselfwas prevented from coming, but that his representatives, charged withhis apologies, were close at hand.
On this Coeranus exclaimed, with a sour smile: "Admit that I am a trueprophet! You have to put up with the same treatment that we senatorshave often suffered under."
But the matron scarcely heard him. She cast her eyes up to heaven withsincere thanksgiving as she murmured with a sigh of relief, "For thismercy the gods be praised!"
She unclasped her hands from her heaving bosom, and said to the stewardwho had followed the messengers:
"Caesar will not be present. Inform your lord, but so that no one elsemay hear. He must come here and receive the imperial representativeswith me. Then have my couch quietly removed and the banquet served atonce. O Coeranus, you can not imagine the misery I am thus spared!"
"Berenike!" said the senator, in a warning voice, and he laid his fingeron his lips. Then turning to the young supplicant, he said to her in atone of regret: "So your walk is for nothing, fair maid. If you are assensible as you are pretty, you will understand that it is too much toask any one to stand between the lion and the prey which has roused hisire."
The lady, however, did not heed the caution which her brother-in-lawintended to convey. As Melissa's imploring eyes met her own, she said,with clear decision:
"Wait here. We shall see who it is that Caesar sends. I know better thanmy lord here what it is to see those dear to us in peril. How old areyou, child?"
"Eighteen," replied Melissa.
"Eighteen?" repeated Berenike, as if the word were a pain to her, forher daughter had been just of that age. Then she said, louder and withencouraging kindness:
"All that lies in my power shall be done for you and yours.--And you,Coeranus, must help me."
"If I can," he replied, "with all the zeal of my reverence for you andmy admiration for beauty. But here come the envoys. The elder, I see, isour learned Philostratus, whose works are known to you; the younger isTheocritus, the favorite of fortune of whom I was telling you. If thecharm of that face might but conquer the omnipotent youth--"
"Coeranus!" she exclaimed, with stern reproof; but she failed to hearthe senator's excuses, for her husband, Seleukus, followed her down thesteps, and with a hasty sign to her, advanced to meet his guests.
Theocritus was spokesman, and notwithstanding the mourning toga whichwrapped him in fine folds, his gestures did not belie his origin as anactor and dancer. When Seleukus presented him to his wife, Theocritusassured her that when, but an hour since, his sovereign lord, who wasalready dressed and wreathed for the banquet, had learned that the godshad bereft of their only child the couple whose hospitality had promisedhim such a delightful evening, he had been equally shocked and grieved.Caesar was deeply distressed at the unfortunate circumstance that heshould have happened in his ignorance to intrude on the seclusion whichwas the prerogative of grief. He begged to assure her and her husband ofthe high favor of the ruler of the world. As for himself, Theocritus,he would not fail to describe the splendor with which they had decoratedtheir princely residence in Caesar's honor. His imperial master would betouched, indeed, to hear that even the bereaved mother, who, like Niobe,mourned for her offspring, had broken the stony spell which held her toSipylos, and had decked herself to receive the greatest of all earthlyguests as radiant as Juno at the golden table of the gods.
The lady succeeded in controlling herself and listening to the end ofthese pompous phrases without interrupting the speaker. Every word whichflowed so glibly from his tongue fell on her ear as bitter mockery; andhe himself was so repugnant to her, that she felt it a release when,after exchanging a few words with the master of the house, he beggedleave to retire, as important business called him away. And this,indeed, was the truth. For no consideration would he have left this dutyto another, for it was to communicate to Titianus, who had offended him,the intelligence that Caesar had deprived him of the office of prefect,and intended to examine into certain complaints of his administration.
The second envoy, however, remained, though he refused Seleukus'sinvitation to fill his place at the banquet. He exchanged a few wordswith the lady Berenike, and presently found himself taken aside bythe senator, and, after a short explanation, led up to Melissa,whom Coeranus desired to appeal for help to Philostratus, the famousphilosopher, who enjoyed Caesar's close
st confidence.
Coeranus then obeyed a sign from Berenike, who wished to know whetherhe would be answerable for introducing this rarely pretty girl, who hadplaced herself under their protection--and whom she, for her part, meantto protect--to a courtier of whom she knew nothing but that he was awriter of taste.
The question seemed to amuse Coeranus, but, seeing that hissister-in-law was very much in earnest, he dropped his flippant toneand admitted that Philostratus, as a young man, had been one of thelast with whom he would trust a girl. His far-famed letters sufficientlyproved that the witty philosopher had been a devoted and successfulcourtier of women. But that was all a thing of the past. He still, nodoubt, did homage to female beauty, but he led a regular life, and hadbecome one of the most ardent and earnest upholders of religion andvirtue. He was one of the learned circle which gathered round JuliaDomna, and it was by her desire that he had accompanied Caracalla, tokeep his mad passions in check when it might be possible.
The conversation between Melissa and the philosopher had meanwhile takenan unexpected turn. At his very first address the reply had died on herlips, for in Caesar's representative she had recognized the Roman whomshe had seen in the Temple of Asklepios, and who had perhaps overheardher there. Philostratus, too, seemed to remember the meeting; for hisshrewd face--a pleasing mixture of grave and gay--lighted up at oncewith a subtle smile as he said:
"If I am not mistaken, I owe the same pleasure this evening to divineCaesar as to great Asklepios this morning?"
At this, Melissa cast a meaning glance at Coeranus and the lady, and,although surprise and alarm sealed her lips, her uplifted hands andwhole gesture sufficiently expressed her entreaty that he would notbetray her. He understood and obeyed. It pleased him to share a secretwith this fair child. He had, in fact, overheard her, and understoodwith amazement that she was praying fervently for Caesar.
This stirred his curiosity to the highest pitch. So he said, in anundertone:
"All that I saw and heard in the temple is our secret, sweet maid. Butwhat on earth can have prompted you to pray so urgently for Caesar? Hashe done you or yours any great benefit?"
Melissa shook her head, and Philostratus went on with increasedcuriosity:
"Then are you one of those whose heart Eros can fire at the sight of animage, or the mere aspect of a man?"
To this she answered hastily:
"What an idea! No, no. Certainly not."
"No?" said her new friend, with greater surprise. "Then perhaps yourhopeful young soul expects that, being still but a youth, he may, by thehelp of the gods, become, like Titus, a benefactor to the whole world?"
Melissa looked timidly at the matron, who was still talking with herbrother-in-law, and hastily replied:
"They all call him a murderer! But I know for certain that he suffersfearful torments of mind and body; and one who knows many things toldme that there was not one among all the millions whom Caesar governs whoever prays for him; and I was so sorry--I can not tell you--"
"And so," interrupted the philosopher, "you thought it praiseworthy andpleasing to the gods that you should be the first and only one to offersacrifice for him, in secret, and of your own free will? That was how itcame about? Well, child, you need not be ashamed of it."
But then suddenly his face clouded, and he asked, in a grave and alteredvoice:
"Are you a Christian?"
"No," she replied, firmly. "We are Greeks. How could I have offered asacrifice of blood to Asklepios if I had believed in the crucified god?"
"Then," said Philostratus, and his eyes flashed brightly, "I maypromise you, in the name of the gods, that your prayer and offering werepleasing in their eyes. I myself, noble girl, owe you a rare pleasure.But, tell me--how did you feel as you left the sanctuary?"
"Light-hearted, my lord, and content," she answered, with a frank,glad look in her fine eyes. "I could have sung as I went down the road,though there were people about."
"I should have liked to hear you," he said, kindly, and he stillheld her hand, which he had grasped with the amiable geniality thatcharacterized him, when they were joined by the senator and hissister-in-law.
"Has she won your good offices?" asked Coeranus; and Philostratusreplied, quickly, "Anything that it lies in my power to do for her shallcertainly be done."
Berenike bade them both to join her in her own rooms, for everythingthat had to do with the banquet was odious to her; and as they went,Melissa told her new friend her brother's story. She ended it in thequiet sitting-room of the mistress of the house, an artistic but notsplendid apartment, adorned only with the choicest works of earlyAlexandrian art. Philostratus listened attentively, but, before shecould put her petition for help into words, he exclaimed:
"Then what we have to do is, to move Caesar to mercy, and that--Child,you know not what you ask!"
They were interrupted by a message from Seleukus, desiring Coeranus tojoin the other guests, and as soon as he had left them Berenike withdrewto take off the splendor she hated. She promised to return immediatelyand join their discussion, and Philostratus sat for a while lost inthought. Then he turned to Melissa and asked her:
"Would you for their sakes be able to make up your mind to face bitterhumiliation, nay, perhaps imminent danger?"
"Anything! I would give my life for them!" replied the girl, withspirit, and her eyes gleamed with such enthusiastic self-sacrifice thathis heart, though no longer young, warmed under their glow, and theprinciple to which he had sternly adhered since he had been near theimperial person, never to address a word to the sovereign but in reply,was blown to the winds.
Holding her hand in his, with a keen look into her eyes, he went on:
"And if you were required to do a thing from which many a man even wouldrecoil--you would venture?"
And again the answer was a ready "Yes." Philostratus released her hand,and said:
"Then we will dare the worst. I will smooth the way for you, andto-morrow--do not start--tomorrow you yourself, under my protection,shall appeal to Caesar."
The color faded from the girl's cheeks, which had been flushed withfresh hopes, and her counselor had just expressed his wish to talk thematter over with the lady Berenike, when she came into the room. She wasnow dressed in mourning, and her pale, beautiful face showed the tracesof the tears she had just shed. The dark shadows which, when theysurround a woman's eyes, betray past storms of grief, as the halo roundthe moon--the eye of night--gives warning of storms to come, were deeperthan ever; and when her sorrowful gaze fell on Melissa, the girl felt analmost irresistible longing to throw herself into her arms and weep onher motherly bosom.
Philostratus, too, was deeply touched by the appearance of this mother,who possessed so much, but for whom everything dearest to a woman'sheart had been destroyed by a cruel stroke of Fate. He was glad to beable to tell her that he hoped to soften Caesar. Still, his plan was abold one; Caracalla had been deeply offended by the scornful tone of theattacks on him, and Melissa's brother was perhaps the only one of thescoffers who had been taken. The crime of the Alexandrian wits could notbe left unpunished. For such a desperate case only desperate remediescould avail; he therefore ventured to propose to conduct Melissa intoCaesar's presence, that she might appeal to his clemency.
The matron started as though a scorpion had stung her. In greatagitation, she threw her arm round the girl as if to shelter her fromimminent danger, and Melissa, seeking help, laid her head on that kindbreast. Berenike was reminded, by the scent that rose up from the girl'shair, of the hours when her own child had thus fondly clung to her.Her motherly heart had found a new object to love, and exclaiming,"Impossible!" she clasped Melissa more closely.
But Philostratus begged to be heard. Any plea urged by a third person hedeclared would only be the ruin of the rash mediator.
"Caracalla," he went on, looking at Melissa, "is terrible in hispassions, no one can deny that; but of late severe suffering has madehim irritably sensitive, and he insists on the strictest virtue in
allwho are about his person. He pays no heed to female beauty, and thissweet child, at any rate, will find many protectors. He shall know thatthe high-priest's wife, one of the best of women, keeps an anxious eyeon Melissa's fate; and I myself, his mother's friend, shall be at hand.His passion for revenge, on the other hand, is boundless--no one livingcan control it; and not even the noble Julia can shield those whoprovoke it from a cruel end. If you do not know it, child, I can tellyou that he had his brother Geta killed, though he took refuge in thearms of the mother who bore them both. You must understand the worst;and again I ask you, are you ready to risk all for those you love? Haveyou the courage to venture into the lion's den?"
Melissa clung more closely to the motherly woman, and her pale lipsanswered faintly but firmly, "I am ready, and he will grant my prayer."
"Child, child," cried Berenike in horror, "you know not what lies beforeyou! You are dazzled by the happy confidence of inexperienced youth. Iknow what life is. I can see you, in your heart's blood, as red and pureas the blood of a lamb! I see--Ah, child! you do not know death and itsterrible reality."
"I know it!" Melissa broke in with feverish excitement. "My dearest--mymother--I saw her die with these eyes. What did I not bury in her grave!And yet hope still lived in my heart; and though Caracalla may be areckless murderer, he will do nothing to me, precisely because I am sofeeble. And, lady, what am I? Of what account is my life if I lose myfather, and my brothers, who are both on the high-road to greatness?"
"But you are betrothed," Berenike eagerly put in. "And your lover, youtold me, is dear to you. What of him? He no doubt loves you, and, if youcome to harm, sorrow will mar his young life."
At this Melissa clasped her hands over her face and sobbed aloud. "Showme, then, any other way--any! I will face the worst. But there isnone; and if Diodoros were here he would not stop me; for what my heartprompts me to do is right, is my duty. But he is lying sick and with aclouded mind, and I can not ask him. O noble lady, kindness looks out ofyour eyes; cease to rub salt into my wounds! The task before me ishard enough already. But I would do it, and try to get speech with thatterrible man, even if I had no one to protect me."
The lady had listened with varying feelings to this outpouring of theyoung girl's heart. Every instinct rebelled against the thought ofsacrificing this pure, sweet creature to the fury of the tyrant whosewickedness was as unlimited as his power, and yet she saw no otherchance of saving the artist, whom she held in affectionate regard. Herown noble heart understood the girl's resolve to purchase the life ofthose she loved, even with her blood; she, in the same place, would havedone the same thing; and she thought to herself that it would have madeher happy to see such a spirit in her own child. Her resistance meltedaway, and almost involuntarily she exclaimed, "Well, do what you feel tobe right."
Melissa flew into her arms again with a grateful sense of release froma load, and Berenike did all she could to smooth the thorny way for her.She discussed every point with Philostratus as thoroughly as though fora child of her own; and, while the tumult came up from the banquet inthe men's rooms, they settled that Berenike herself should conduct thegirl to the wife of the high-priest of Serapis, the brother of Seleukus,and there await Melissa's return. Philostratus named the hour and otherdetails, and then made further inquiries concerning the young artistwhose mocking spirit had brought so much trouble on his family.
On this the lady led him into an adjoining room, where the portrait ofher adored daughter was hanging. It was surrounded by a thick wreathof violets, the dead girl's favorite flower. The beautiful picture waslighted up by two three-branched lamps on high stands; and Philostratus,a connoisseur who had described many paintings with great taste andvividness, gazed in absorbed silence at the lovely features, whichwere represented with rare mastery and the inspired devotion of lovingadmiration. At last he turned to the mother, exclaiming:
"Happy artist, to have such a subject! It is a work worthy of the early,best period, and of a master of the time of Apelies. The daughter whohas been snatched from you, noble lady, was indeed matchless, and nosorrow is too deep to do her justice. But the divinity who has taken herknows also how to give; and this portrait has preserved for you a partof what you loved. This picture, too, may influence Melissa's fate; forCaesar has a fine taste in art, and one of the wants of our time whichhas helped to embitter him is the paralyzed state of the imitative arts.It will be easier to win his favor for the painter who did this portraitthan for a man of noble birth. He needs such painters as this Alexanderfor the Pinakothek in the splendid baths he has built at Rome. If youwould but lend me this treasure to-morrow--"
But she interrupted him with a decisive "Never!" and laid her hand onthe frame as if to protect it. Philostratus, however, was not to be putoff; he went on in a tone of the deepest disappointment: "This portraitis yours, and no one can wonder at your refusal. We must, therefore,consider how to attain our end without this important ally." Berenike'sgaze had lingered calmly on the sweet face while he spoke, looking moreand more deeply into the beautiful, expressive features. All was silent.
At last she slowly turned to Melissa, who stood gazing sadly at theground, and said in a low voice: "She resembled you in many ways. Thegods had formed her to shed joy and light around her. Where she couldwipe away a tear she always did so. Her portrait is speechless, and yetit tells me to act as she herself would have acted. If this work canindeed move Caracalla to clemency, then--You, Philostratus, really thinkso?"
"Yes," he replied, decisively. "There can be no better mediator forAlexander than this work." Berenike drew herself up, and said:
"Well, then, to-morrow morning early, I will send it to you at theSerapeum. The portrait of the dead may perish if it may but save thelife of him who wrought it so lovingly." She turned away her face as shegave the philosopher her hand, and then hastily left the room.
Melissa flew after her and, with overflowing gratitude, besought thesobbing lady not to weep.
"I know something that will bring you greater comfort than my brother'spicture: I mean the living image of your Korinna--a young girl; she ishere in Alexandria."
"Zeno's daughter Agatha?" said Berenike; and when Melissa said yes,it was she, the lady went on with a deep sigh: "Thanks for your kindthought, my child; but she, too, is lost to me."
And as she spoke she sank on a couch, saying, in a low voice, "I wouldrather be alone."
Melissa modestly withdrew into the adjoining room, and Philostratus, whohad been lost in the contemplation of the picture, took his leave.
He did not make use of the imperial chariot in waiting for him, butreturned to his lodgings on foot, in such good spirits, and so wellsatisfied with himself, as he had not been before since leaving Rome.
When Berenike had rested in solitude for some little time she recalledMelissa, and took as much care of her young guest as though she were herlost darling, restored to her after a brief absence. First she allowedthe girl to send for Argutis; and when she had assured the faithfulslave that all promised well, she dismissed him with instructions toawait at home his young mistress's orders, for that Melissa would forthe present find shelter under her roof.
When the Gaul had departed, she desired her waiting-woman, Johanna, tofetch her brother. During her absence the lady explained to Melissathat they both were Christians. They were freeborn, the children of afreedman of Berenike's house. Johannes had at an early age shown somuch intelligence that they had acceded to his wish to be educated as alawyer. He was now one of the most successful pleaders in the city;but he always used his eloquence, which he had perfected not only atAlexandria but also at Carthage, by preference in the service of accusedChristians. In his leisure hours he would visit the condemned in prison,speak comfort to them, and give them presents out of the fine profits hederived from his business among the wealthy. He was the very man togo and see her father and brothers; he would revive their spirits, andcarry them her greeting.
When, presently, the Christian arrived he expressed him
self as veryready to undertake this commission. His sister was already busied inpacking wine and other comforts for the captives-more, no doubt, asJohannes told Berenike, than the three men could possibly consume,even if their imprisonment should be a long one. His smile showed howconfidently he counted on the lady's liberality, and Melissa quicklyput her faith in the young Christian, who would have reminded her ofher brother Philip, but that his slight figure was more upright, andhis long hair quite smooth, without a wave or curl. His eyes, above all,were unlike Philip's; for they looked out on the world with a gaze asmild as Philip's were keen and inquiring.
Melissa gave him many messages for her father and brothers, and when thelady Berenike begged him to take care that the portrait of her daughterwas safely carried to the Serapeum, where it was to contribute tomollify Caesar in the painter's favor, he praised her determination,and modestly added: "For how long may we call our own any of theseperishable joys? A day, perhaps a year, at most a lustrum. But eternityis long, and those who, for its sake, forget time and set all theirhopes on eternity--which is indeed time to the soul--soon cease tobewail the loss of any transitory treasure, were it the noblestand dearest. Oh, would that I could lead you to place your hopes oneternity, best of women and most true-hearted mother! Eternity, whichnot the wisest brain can conceive of!--I tell you, lady, for you area philosopher--that is the hardest and therefore the grandest idea forhuman thought to compass. Fix your eye on that, and in its infiniterealm, which must be your future home, you will meet her again whom youhave lost--not her image returned to you, but herself."
"Cease," interrupted the matron, with impatient sharpness. "I know whatyou are aiming at. But to conceive of eternity is the prerogative of theimmortals; our intellect is wrecked in the attempt. Our wings melt likethose of Ikarus, and we fall into the ocean--the ocean of madness, towhich I have often been near enough. You Christians fancy you know allabout eternity, and if you are right in that--But I will not reopen thatold discussion. Give me back my child for a year, a month, a day even,as she was before murderous disease laid hands on her, and I willmake you a free gift of your cuckoo-cloud-land of eternity, and of theremainder of my own life on earth into the bargain."
The vehement woman trembled with renewed sorrow, as if shivering withague; but as soon as she had recovered her self-command enough to speakcalmly, she exclaimed to the lawyer:
"I do not really wish to vex you, Johannes. I esteem you, and you aredear to me. But if you wish our friendship to continue, give up thesefoolish attempts to teach tortoises to fly. Do all you can for the poorprisoners; and if you--"
"By daybreak to-morrow I will be with them," Johannes said, and hehastily took leave.
As soon as they were alone Berenike observed "There he goes, quiteoffended, as if I had done him a wrong. That is the way with all theseChristians. They think it their duty to force on others what theythemselves think right, and any one who turns a deaf ear to theirquestionable truths they at once set down as narrow-minded, or ashostile to what is good. Agatha, of whom you were just now speaking, andZeno her father, my husband's brother, are Christians. I had hoped thatKorinna's death would have brought the child back to us; I have longedto see her, and have heard much that is sweet about her: but a commonsorrow, which so often brings divided hearts together, has only widenedthe gulf between my husband and his brother. The fault is not on ourside. Nay, I was rejoiced when, a few hours after the worst was over, aletter from Zeno informed me that he and his daughter would come tosee us the same evening. But the letter itself"--and her voice beganto quiver with indignation--"compelled us to beg him not to come. It isscarcely credible--and I should do better not to pour fresh oil on mywrath--but he bade us 'rejoice'; three, four, five times he repeated thecruel words. And he wrote in a pompous strain of the bliss and rapturewhich awaited our lost child--and this to a mother whose heart had beenutterly broken but a few hours before by a fearful stroke of Fate! Hewould meet the bereaved, grieving, lonely mourner with a smile onhis lips! Rejoice! This climax of cruelty or aberration has parted usforever. Why, our black gardener, whose god is a tree-stump that bearsonly the faintest likeness to humanity, melted into tears at the news;and Zeno, our brother, the uncle of that broken dower, could be glad andbid us rejoice! My husband thinks that hatred and the long-standingfeud prompted his pen. For my part, I believe it was only this Christianfrenzy which made him suggest that I should sink lower than the brutes,who defend their young with their lives. Seleukus has long sinceforgiven him for his conduct in withdrawing his share of the capitalfrom the business when he became a Christian, to squander it on thebaser sort; but this 'Rejoice' neither he nor I can forgive, thoughthings which pierce me to the heart often slide off him like water offgrease."
Her black hair had come down as she delivered this vehement speech, and,when she ceased, her flushed cheeks and the fiery glow of her eyes gavethe majestic woman in her dark robes an aspect which terrified Melissa.
She, too, thought this "Rejoice," under such circumstances, unseemly andinsulting; but she kept her opinion to herself, partly out of modestyand partly because she did not wish to encourage the estrangementbetween this unhappy lady and the niece whose mere presence would havebeen so great a comfort to her.
When Johanna returned to lead her to a bedroom, she gave a sigh ofrelief; but the lady expressed a wish to keep Melissa near her, and ina low voice desired the waiting-woman to prepare a bed for her inthe adjoining room, by the side of Korinna's, which was never to bedisturbed. Then, still greatly excited, she invited Melissa into herdaughter's pretty room.
There she showed her everything that Korinna had especially cared for.Her bird hung in the same place; her lap-dog was sleeping in a basket,on the cushion which Berenike had embroidered for her child. Melissa hadto admire the dead girl's lute, and her first piece of weaving, and theelegant loom of ebony and ivory in which she had woven it. And Berenikerepeated to the girl the verses which Korinna had composed, in imitationof Catullus, on the death of a favorite bird. And although Melissa'seyes were almost closing with fatigue, she forced herself to attend toit all, for she saw now how much her sympathy pleased her kind friend.
Meanwhile the voices of the men, who had done eating and were nowdrinking, came louder and louder into the women's apartments. When themerriment of her guests rose to a higher pitch than usual, or somethingamusing gave rise to a shout of laughter, Berenike shrank, and eithermuttered some unintelligible threat or besought the forgiveness of herdaughter's manes.
It seemed to be a relief to her to rush from one mood to the other; butneither in her grief, nor when her motherly feeling led her to talk, noryet in her wrath, did she lose her perfect dignity. All Melissa saw andheard moved her to pity or to horror. And meanwhile she was worn outwith anxiety for her family, and with increasing fatigue.
At last, however, she was released. A gay chorus of women's voices andflutes came up from the banqueting-hall. With a haughty mien and dilatednostrils Berenike listened to the first few bars. That such a songshould be heard in her house of woe was too much; with her own hand sheclosed the shutters over the window next her; then she bade her youngguest go to bed.
Oh, how glad was the overtired girl to stretch herself on the softcouch! As usual, before going to sleep, she told her mother in thespirit all the history of the day. Then she prayed to the manes of thedeparted to lend her aid in the heavy task before her; but in the midstof her prayer sleep overcame her, and her young bosom was already risingand falling in regular breathing when she was roused by a visit from thelady Berenike.
Melissa suddenly beheld her at the head of the bed, in a flowing whitenight-dress, with her hair unpinned, and holding a silver lamp inher hand; and the girl involuntarily put up her arms as if to protectherself, for she fancied that the daemon of madness stared out of thoselarge black eyes. But the unhappy woman's expression changed, and shelooked down kindly on Melissa. She quietly set the lamp on the table,and then, as the cool nightbreeze blew in through the open window,to which th
ere was no shutter, she tenderly wrapped the white woolenblanket round Melissa, and muttered to herself, "She liked it so."
Then she knelt down by the side of the bed, pressed her lips on the browof the girl, now fully awake, and said:
"And you, too, are fair to look upon. He will grant your prayer!"
Then she asked Melissa about her lover, her father, her mother, and atlast she, unexpectedly, asked her in a whisper:
"Your brother Alexander, the painter--My daughter, though in death,inspired his soul with love. Yes, Korinna was dear to him. Her image isliving in his soul. Am I right? Tell me the truth!"
On this Melissa confessed how deeply the painter had been impressed bythe dead girl's beauty, and that he had given her his heart and soulwith a fervor of devotion of which she had never imagined him capable.And the poor mother smiled as she heard it, and murmured, "I was sure ofit."
But then she shook her head, sadly, and said "Fool that I am!"
At last she bade Melissa good-night, and went back to her own bedroom.There Johanna was awaiting her, and while she was plaiting hermistress's hair the matron said, threateningly:
"If the wretch should not spare even her"--She was interrupted by loudshouts of mirth from the banqueting-hall, and among the laughing voicesshe fancied that she recognized her husband's. She started up with avehement movement, and exclaimed, in angry excitement:
"Seleukus might have prevented such an outrage! Oh, I know thatsorrowing father's heart! Fear, vanity, ambition, love of pleasure--"
"But consider," Johanna broke in, "to cross Caesar's wish is to forfeitlife!"
"Then he should have died!" replied the matron, with stern decision.