CHAPTER XIV.
Susannah had never particularly cared for Paula, but her fate shockedher and moved her to pity. She must at once enquire whether it was notpossible to send her some better food than the ordinary prison-fare.That was but Christian charity, and her daughter seemed to take herfriend's misfortune much to heart. When she and Martina returned homeshe looked so cast down and distracted that no stranger now would everhave dreamed of comparing her with a brisk little bird.
Once more a poisoned arrow had struck her. Till now she had been wickedonly in her own eyes; now she was wicked in the eyes of another. Paulaknew it was she who had betrayed her. The traitoress had been met bytreachery. The woman she hated had a right to regard her as spiteful andmalignant, and for this she hated her more than ever.
Till now she had nowhere failed to find an affectionate greeting andwelcome; and to-day how coldly she had been repulsed--and not by Paulaalone, but also by Martina, who no doubt had noticed something, andwhose dry reserve had been quite intolerable to the girl.
It was all the old bishop's fault; he had not kept his promise that hertale-bearing should remain as secret as a confession. Indeed, he musthave deliberately revealed it, for no one but herself knew of the facts.Perhaps he had even mentioned her name to the Arabs; in that case shewould have to bear witness before the judges, and then in what lightwould she appear to Orion, to her mother, to Joanna and Martina?
She had not failed to understand that old Rufinus must have perishedin the expedition, and she was truly grieved. His wife and daughterhad always been kind neighbors to her; and she would not have willinglybrought sorrow on them. If she were called up to give evidence it mightgo hard with them, and she wished no harm to any one but those who hadcheated her out of Orion's love. This idea of standing before a court ofjustice was the worst of all; this must be warded off at any cost.
Where could Bishop Plotinus be? He had returned to Memphis the daybefore, and yet he had not been to see her mother, to whom he usuallypaid a daily visit. This absence seemed to her ominous. Everythingdepended on her reminding the old man of his promise as soon aspossible; for if at the trial next morning--which of course, hemust attend--he should happen to mention her name, the guards, theinterpreter, and the scribe would invade her home too and then-horror!She had given evidence once already, and could never again go throughall that had ensued.
But how was she to get at the bishop in the course of the night or earlyto-morrow at latest?
The chariot had not yet returned, and if--it still wanted two hours ofmidnight; yes--it must be done.
She began talking to her mother of the prelate's absence; Susannah, too,was uneasy about it, particularly since she had heard that the old manhad come home ill and that his servant had been out and about in searchof a physician. Katharina promptly proposed to go and see him: thehorses were still in harness, her nurse could accompany her. She reallymust go and learn how her venerable friend was going on.
Susannah thought this very sweet; still, she said it was very late forsuch a visit; however, her spoilt child had said that she "must" and theanswer was a foregone conclusion. Dame Susannah gave way; the nurse wassent for, and as soon as the chariot came round Katharina flung her armsround her mother's neck, promising her not to stay long, and in a fewminutes the chariot stopped at the door of the bishop's palace. She bidthe nurse wait for her and went alone into the vast, rambling house.
The spacious hall, lighted feebly by a single lamp, was silent anddeserted, even the door-keeper had left his post; however, she wasfamiliar with every step and turning, and went on through the impluviuminto the library where, at this hour, the bishop was wont to be found.But it was dark, and her gentle call met with no reply. In the nextroom, to which she timidly felt her way, a slave lay snoring; besidehim were a wine jar and a hand-lamp. The sight somewhat reassured her.Beyond was the bishop's bedroom, which she had never been into. A dimlight gleamed through the open door and she heard a low moaning andgasping. She called the house-keeper by name once, twice; no answer. Thesleeping slave did not stir; but a familiar voice addressed her from thebedroom, groaning rather than saying:
"Who is there? Is he come? Have you found him at last?"
The whole household had fled in fear of the pestilence; even theacolyte, who had indeed a wife and children. The housekeeper had beenforced to leave the master to seek the physician, who had already beenthere once, and the last remaining slave, a faithful, goodhearted,heedless sot, had been left in charge; but he had brought a jar of wineup from the unguarded cellar, had soon emptied it, and then, overcome bydrink and the heat of the night, he had fallen asleep.
Katharina at once spoke her name and the old man answered her, sayingkindly, but with difficulty: "Ah, it is you, you, my child!"
She took up the lamp and went close to the sick man. He put out his leanarm to welcome her; but, as her approach brought the light near to himhe covered his eyes, crying out distressfully: "No, no; that hurts. Takeaway the lamp."
Katharina set it down on a low chest behind the head of the bed; thenshe went up to the sufferer, gave him her mother's message, and askedhim how he was and why he was left alone. He could only give incoherentanswers which he gasped out with great difficulty, bidding her go closeto him for he could not hear her distinctly. He was very ill, he toldher--dying. It was good of her to have come for she had always been hispet, his dear, good little girl.
"And it was a happy impulse that brought you," he added, "to receive anold man's blessing. I give it you with my whole heart."
As he spoke he put forth his hand and she, following an instinctiveprompting, fell on her knees by the side of the couch.
He laid his burning right hand on her head and murmured some words ofblessing; she, however, scarcely heeded them, for his hand felt likelead and its heat oppressed and distressed her dreadfully. It wasa sincere grief to her to see this true old friend of her childhoodsuffering thus--perhaps indeed dying; at the same time she did notforget what had brought her here--still, she dared not disturb himin this act of love. He gave her his blessing--that was kind; but hismutterings did not come to an end, the weight of the hot hand on herhead grew heavier and heavier, and at last became intolerable. Shefelt quite dazed, but with an effort she collected her senses and thenperceived that the old man had wandered off from the usual formulas ofblessing and was murmuring disconnected and inarticulate words.
At this she raised the terrible, fevered hand, laid it on the bed, andwas about to ask him whether he had betrayed her to Benjamin, and if hehad mentioned her name, when--Merciful God! there on his cheeks were thesame livid spots that she had noticed on those of the plague strickenman in Medea's house. With a cry of horror she sprang up, snatched atthe lamp, held it over the sufferer, heedless of his cries of anguish,looked into his face, and pulled away the weary hands with which hetried to screen his eyes from the light. Then, having convinced herselfthat she was not mistaken, she fled from room to room out into the hall.
Here she was met by the housekeeper, who took the lamp out of her handand was about to question her; but Katharina only screamed:
"The plague is in the house! Lock the doors!" and then rushed away, pastthe leech who was coming in. With one bound she was in the chariot, andas the horses started she wailed out to the nurse:
"The plague--they have the plague. Plotinus has taken the plague!"
The terrified woman tried to soothe her, assuring her that she must bemistaken for such hellish fiends did not dare come near so holy a man.But the girl vouchsafed no reply, merely desiring her to have a bathmade ready for her as soon as they should reach home.
She felt utterly shattered; on the spot where the old man'splague-stricken hand had rested she was conscious of a heavy, hatefulpressure, and when the chariot at length drove into their own gardensomething warm and heavy-something she could not shake off, still seemedto weigh on her brain.
The windows were all dark excepting one on the ground-floor, where alight was still visible
in the room inhabited by Heliodora. A diabolicalthought flashed through her over-excited and restless mind; withoutlooking to the right hand or the left she obeyed the impulse and wentforward, just as she was, into her friend's sitting-room and then,lifting a curtain, on into the bedroom. Heliodora was lying on hercouch, still suffering from a headache which had prevented her going tovisit their neighbors; at first she did not notice the late visitor whostood by her side and bid her good evening.
A single lamp shed a dim light in the spacious room, and the young girlhad never thought their guest so lovely as she looked in that twilight.A night wrapper of the thinnest material only half hid her beautifullimbs. Round her flowing, fair hair, floated the subtle, hardlyperceptible perfume which always pervaded this favorite of fortune. Twoheavy plaits lay like sheeny snakes over her bosom and the white sheet.Her face was turned upwards and was exquisitely calm and sweet; and asshe lay motionless and smiled up at Katharina, she looked like an angelwearied in well-doing.
No man could resist the charms of this woman, and Orion had succumbed.By her side was a lute, from which she brought the softest and mostsoothing tones, and thus added to the witchery of her appearance.
Katharina's whole being was in wild revolt; she did not know how shewas able to return Heliodora's greeting, and to ask her how she couldpossibly play the lute with a headache.
"Just gliding my fingers over the strings calms and refreshes my blood,"she replied pleasantly. "But you, child, look as if you were sufferingfar worse than I.--Did you come home in the chariot that drove up justnow?"
"Yes," replied Katharina. "I have been to see our dear old bishop. He isvery ill, dying; he will soon be taken from us. Oh, what a fearfulday! First Orion's mother, then Paula, and now this to crown all! Oh,Heliodora, Heliodora!"
She fell on her knees by the bed and pressed her face against herpitying friend's bosom. Heliodora saw the tears which had risen withunaffected feeling to the girl's eyes; her tender soul was full ofsympathy with the sorrow of such a gladsome young creature, who hadalready had so much to suffer, and she leaned over the child, kissingher affectionately on the brow, and murmuring words of consolation.Katharina clung to her closely, and pointing to the top of her headwhere that burning hand had pressed it, she said: "There, kiss there:there is where the pain is worst!--Ah, that is nice, that does me good."
And, as the tender-hearted Heliodora's fresh lips rested on theplague-tainted hair, Katharina closed her eyes and felt as a gladiatormight who hitherto has only tried his weapons on the practisingground, and now for the first time uses them in the arena to pierce hisopponent's heart. She had a vision of herself as some one else,taller and stronger than she was; aye, as Death itself, the destroyer,breathing herself into her victim's breast.
These feelings entirely possessed her as she knelt on the soft carpet,and she did not notice that another woman was crossing it noiselesslyto her comforter's bed-side, with a glance of intelligence at Heliodora.Just as she exclaimed: "Another kiss there-it burns so dreadfully,"she felt two hands on her temples and two lips, not Heliodora's, werepressed on her head.
She looked up in astonishment and saw the smiling face of her mother,who had come after her to ask how the bishop was, and who wished to takeher share in soothing the pain of her darling.
How well her little surprise had succeeded!
But what came over the child? She started to her feet as if lightninghad struck her, as if an asp had stung her, looked horror-stricken intoher mother's eyes, and then, as Susannah was on the point of claspingthe little head to her bosom once more to kiss the aching, thecursed spot, Katharina pushed her away, flew, distracted, through thesitting-room into the vestibule, and down the narrow steps leading tothe bathroom.
Her mother looked after her, shaking her head in bewilderment. Thenshe turned to Heliodora with a shrug, and said, as the tears filled hereyes:
"Poor, poor little thing! Too many troubles have come upon her at once.Her life till lately was like a long, sunny day, and now the hail ispelting her from all sides at once. She has bad news of the bishop, Ifear."
"He is dying, she said," replied the young widow with feeling.
"Our best and truest friend," sobbed Susannah. "It is, it really is toomuch. I often think that I must myself succumb, and as for her--hardlymore than a child!--And with what resignation she bears the heaviestsorrows!--You, Heliodora, are far from knowing what she has gonethrough; but you have no doubt seen how her only thought is to seembright, so as to cheer my heart. Not a sigh, not a complaint has passedher lips. She submits like a saint to everything, without a murmur. But,now that her clear old friend is stricken, she has lost her self-controlfor the first time. She knows all that Plotinus has been to me." Andshe broke down into fresh sobbing. When she was a little calmer, sheapologised for her weakness and bid her fair guest good night.
Katharina, meanwhile, was taking a bath.
A bathroom was an indispensable adjunct to every wealthy Graeco-Egyptianhouse, and her father had taken particular pains with its construction.It consisted of two chambers, one for men and one for women; both fittedwith equal splendor.
White marble, yellow alabaster, purple porphyry on all sides; while thepavement was of fine Byzantine mosaic on a gold ground. There were nostatues, as in the baths of the heathen; the walls were decorated withbible texts in gold letters, and above the divan, which was coveredwith a giraffe skin, there was a crucifix. On the middle panel of thecoffered ceiling was inscribed defiantly, in the Coptic languagethe first axiom of the Jacobite creed: "We believe in the single,indivisible nature of Christ Jesus." And below this hung silver lamps.
The large bath had been filled immediately for Katharina, as thefurnace was heated every evening for the ladies of the house. As she wasundressing, her maid showed her a diseased date. The head gardener, hadbrought it to her, for he had that afternoon, discovered that his palms,too, had been attacked. But the woman soon regretted her loquacity, forwhen she went on to say that Anchhor, the worthy shoemaker who, only theday before yesterday, had brought home her pretty new sandals, had diedof the plague, Katharina scolded her sharply and bid her be silent. Butas the maid knelt before her to unfasten her sandals, Katharina herselftook up the story again, asking her whether the shoemaker's pretty youngwife had also been attacked. The girl said that she was still alive, butthat the old mother-in-law and all the children had been shut intothe house, and even the shutters barred as soon as the corpse had beenbrought out. The authorities had ordered that this should be done inevery case, so that the pestilence might not pervade the streets orbe disseminated among the healthy. Food and drink were handed to thecaptives through a wicket in the door. Such regulations, she added,seemed particularly well-considered and wise. But she would have donebetter to keep her opinions to herself, for before she had done speakingKatharina gave her an angry push with her foot. Then she desired her notto be sparing with the 'smegma',--[A material like soap, but used in asoft state.]--and to wash her hair as thoroughly as possible.
This was done; and Katharina herself rubbed her hands and arms withpassionate diligence. Then she had water poured over her head againand again, till, when she desired the maid to desist, she had to leanbreathless and almost exhausted against the marble.
But in spite of smegma and water she still felt the pressure of theburning hand on top of her head, and her heart seemed oppressed by someinvisible load of lead.
Her mother! oh, her mother! She had kissed her there, where the plaguehad actually touched her, and in fancy she could hear her gasping andbegging for a drink of water like the dying wretches to whom her fatehad led her. And then--then came the servants of the senate and shut herinto the pestilential house with the sick; she saw the pest in mortalform, a cruel and malignant witch; behind her, tall and threatening,stood her inexorable companion Death, reaching out a bony hand andclutching her mother, and then all who were in the house with her, andlast of all, herself.
Her arms dropped by her side: powerful and terrible as
she had feltherself this morning, she was now crushed by a sense of miserable andimpotent weakness. Her defiance had been addressed to a mortal, a frail,tender woman; and God and Fate had put her in the front of the battleinstead of Heliodora. She shuddered at the thought.
As she went up from the bath-room, her mother met her in the hall andsaid:
"What, still here, Child? How you startled me! And is it true? IsPlotinus really ill of a complaint akin to the plague?"
"Worse than that, mother," she replied sadly. "He has the plague; andI remembered that a bath is the right thing when one has been in aplague-stricken house; you, too, have kissed and touched me. Pray havethe fire lighted again, late as it is, and take a bath too."
"But, Child," Susannah began with a laugh; but Katharina gave her nopeace till she yielded, and promised to bathe in the men's room, whichhad not been used at all since the appearance of the epidemic. WhenDame Susannah found herself alone she smiled to herself in silentthankfulness, and in the bath again she lifted up her heart and handsin prayer for her only child, the loving daughter who cared for her sotenderly.
Katharina went to her own room, after ascertaining that the clothes shehad worn this evening had been sacrificed in the bath-furnace.
It was past midnight, but still she bid the maid sit up, and she did notgo to bed. She could not have found rest there. She was tempted to goout on the balcony, and she sat down there on a rocking chair. The nightwas sultry and still. Every house, every tree, every wall seemed toradiate the heat it had absorbed during the day. Along the quay came along procession of pilgrims; this was followed by a funeral train andsoon after came another--both so shrouded in clouds of dust that thetorches of the followers looked like coals glimmering under ashes.Several who had died of the pestilence, and whom it had been impossibleto bury by day, were being borne to the grave together. One of thesefunerals, so she vaguely fancied, was Heliodora's; the other her ownperhaps--or her mother's--and she shivered at the thought. The longtrain wandered on under its shroud of dust, and stood still when itreached the Necropolis; then the sledge with the bier came back empty onred hot runners--but she was not one of the mourners--she was imprisonedin the pestiferous house. Then, when she was freed again--she saw it allquite clearly--two heads had been cut off in the courtyard of the Hallof justice: Orion's and Paula's--and she was left alone, quite alone andforlorn. Her mother was lying by her father's side under the sand in thecemetery, and who was there to care for her, to be troubled about her,to protect her? She was alone in the world like a tree without roots,like a leaf blown out to sea, like an unfledged bird that has fallen outof the nest.
Then, for the first time since that evening when she had borne falsewitness, her memory reverted to all she had been taught at school andin the church of the torments of hell, and she pictured the abode ofthe damned, and the scorching, seething Lake of fire in which murderers,heretics, false witnesses....
What was that?
Had hell indeed yawned, and were the flames soaring up to the skythrough the riven shell of the earth? Had the firmament opened to pourliving fire and black fumes on the northern part of the city?
She started up in dismay, her eyes fixed on the terrible sight. Thewhole sky seemed to be in flames; a fiery furnace, with dense smoke andmyriads of shooting sparks, filled the whole space between earth andheaven. A devouring conflagration was apparently about to annihilatethe town, the river, the starry vault itself; the metal heralds whichusually called the faithful to church lifted up their voices; the quietroad at her feet suddenly swarmed with thousands of people; shrieks,yells and frantic commands came up from below, and in theconfusion of tongues she could distinguish the words "Governor'sPalace"--"Arabs"--"Mukaukas"--"Orion"--"fire"--"Put it out"--"Save it."
At this moment the old head-gardener called up to her from thelotos-tank: "The palace is in flames! And in this drought--GodAll-merciful save the town!"
Her knees gave way; she put out her hands with a faint cry to feel forsome support, and two arms were thrown about her-the arms which she solately had pushed away: her mother's: that mother who had bent over heronly child and inhaled death in a kiss on her plague-tainted hair.