CHAPTER XVIII.
Selene entered the gate-way in the endlessly-long walk of sun-driedbricks which enclosed the wide space where stood the court-yards,water-tanks and huts, belonging to the great papyrus manufactory ofPlutarch, where she and her sister were accustomed to work. She couldgenerally reach it in a quarter of an hour, but to-day it had taken morethan four times as long and she herself did not know how she had managedto hold herself up, and to walk-limp-stumble along, in spite of theacute pain she was suffering. She would willingly have clung to everypasser-by, have held on to every slow passing vehicle, to every beastof burden that overtook her--but man and beast mercilessly went on theirway, without paying any heed to her. She got many a push from those whowere hurrying by and who scarcely turned round to look at her, whenfrom time to time she stopped to sink for a moment on to the nearestdoor-step, or some low cornice or bale of goods; to dry her eyes, orpress her hand to her foot, which was now swollen to a great size,hoping, as she did so, to be able to forget, under the sense of a newform of pain, the other unceasing and unendurable torment, at least fora few minutes.
The street boys who had run after her, and laughed at her, ceasedpursuing her when they found that she constantly stopped to rest. Awoman with a child in her arms once asked her, as she stopped to rest aminute on a threshold, whether she wanted anything, but walked on whenSelene shook her head and made no other answer.
Once she thought she must give up altogether, when suddenly the streetwas filled with jeering boys and inquisitive men and women--for Verus,the superb Verus, came by in his chariot, and what a chariot! TheAlexandrian populace were accustomed to see much that was strange inthe busy streets of their crowded city; but this vehicle attractedevery eye, and excited astonishment, admiration and mirth, whereverit appeared, and not unfrequently the bitterest ridicule. The handsomeRoman stood in the middle of his gilt chariot, and himself drove thefour white horses, harnessed abreast; on his head he wore a wreath,and across his breast, from one shoulder, a garland of roses. On thefoot-board of the quadriga sat two children, dressed as Cupids; theirlittle legs dangled in the air, and they each held, attached by a longgilt wire, a white dove which fluttered in front of Verus.
The dense and hurrying crowd, crushed Selene remorselessly against thewall; instead of looking at the wonderful sight she covered her facewith her hands to hide the distortion of pain in her features; still shejust saw the splendid chariot, the gold harness on the horses, and thefigure of the insolent owner glide past her, as if in a dream that wasblurred by pain, and the sight infused into her soul, that was alreadyharassed by pain and anxiety, a feeling of bitter aversion, andthe envious thought that the mere trappings of the horses of thisextravagant prodigal would suffice to keep her and her family abovemisery for a whole year.
By the time the chariot had turned the next corner, and the crowd hadfollowed it, she had almost fallen to the ground. She could not takeanother step, and looked round for a litter, but, while generally therewas no lack of them, in this spot, to-day there was not one to be seen.The factory was only a few hundred steps farther, but in her fancy theyseemed like so many stadia. Presently some of the workmen and women fromthe factory came by, laughing and showing each other their wages, so thepayment must be now going on. A glance at the sun showed her how longshe had already been on her way, and remind her of the purpose of herwalk.
With the exertion of all her strength, she dragged herself a few stepsfarther; then, just as her courage was again beginning to fail, alittle girl came running towards her who was accustomed to wait uponthe workers at the table where Selene and Arsinoe were employed, and whoheld in her hand a pitcher. She called the dusky little Egyptian, andsaid:
"Hathor, pray come back to the factory with me. I cannot walk anyfarther, my foot is so dreadfully painful; but if I lean a little onyour shoulder, I shall get on better."
"I cannot," said the child. "If I make haste home I shall have somedates," and she ran on.
Selene looked after her, and an inward voice, against which she hadhad to rebel before to-day, asked her why she of all people must be asufferer for others, when they thought only of themselves, and with aheavy sigh, she made a fresh attempt to proceed on her way.
When she had gone a few steps, neither seeing not hearing anything thatpassed her, a girl came up to her, and asked her timidly, but kindly,what was the matter. It was a leaf-joiner who sat opposite to her at theworks, a poor, deformed creature, who, nevertheless, plied her nimblefingers contentedly and silently, and who at first had taught Seleneand Arsinoe many useful tricks of working. The girl offered her crookedshoulder unasked as a support to Selene, and measured her step; tothose of the sufferer with as much nicety as if she felt everything thatSelene herself did; thus, without speaking, they reached the door of thefactory; there, in the first court-yard the little hunchback made Selenesit down on one of the bundles of papyrus-stems which lay all aboutthe place, by the side of the tanks in which the plants were dipped tofreshen them, and arranged in order, built up into high heaps, accordingto the localities whence they were brought. After a short rest, theywent on through the hall in which the triangular green stems weresorted, according to the quality of the white pith they contained. Thenext rooms, in which men stripped the green sheath from the pith, andthe long galleries where the more skilled hands split the pith withsharp knives into long moist strips about a finger wide, and ofdifferent degrees of fineness, seemed to Selene to grow longer thefarther she went, and to be absolutely interminable.
Generally the pith-splitters sat here in long rows, each at his ownlittle table, on each side of a gangway left for the slaves, who carriedthe prepared material to the drying-house; but, to-day, most of themhad left their places and stood chatting together and packing up theirwooden clips, knives, and sharpening-stones. Half way down this roomSelene's hand fell from her companion's shoulder, she turned giddy, andsaid in a low tone:
"I can go no farther--"
The little hunchback held her up as well as she could, and though sheherself was far from strong, she succeeded in dragging, rather thancarrying, Selene to an empty couch and in laying her upon it. A fewworkmen gathered around the senseless girl, and brought some water, thenwhen she opened her eyes again, and they found that she belonged to therooms where the prepared papyrus-leaves were gummed together, some ofthem offered to carry her thither, and before Selene could consent theyhad taken up the bench and lifted it with its light burden. Her damagedfoot hung down, and gave the poor girl such pain that she cried out,and tried to raise the injured limb and hold her ankle in her band;her comrade helped by taking the poor little foot in her own hand, andsupporting it with tender and cautious care.
As she thus went by, carried, as it were, in triumph by the men, andborne high in the air, everyone turned to look at her, and the sufferinggirl felt this rather as if she were some criminal being carried throughthe streets to exhibit her disgrace to the citizens. But when she foundherself in the large rooms where, in one place men, and in another themost skilled of the women and girls were employed in laying the narrowstrips of papyrus crosswise over each other, and gumming them together,she had recovered strength enough to pull her veil over her face whichshe held down. Arsinoe, and she herself, in order to remain unrecognizedhad always been accustomed to walk through these rooms closely veiled,and not to lay their wraps aside till they reached the little room wherethey sat with about twenty other women to glue the sheets together.
Every one looked at her with curious enquiry. Her foot certainly hurther, the cut in her head was burning, and she felt altogether intenselymiserable; still there was room and to spare in her soul for the falsepride that she inherited from her father, and for the humiliatingconsciousness that she was regarded by these people as one ofthemselves.
In the room in which she worked, none but free women were employed, butmore than a thousand slaves worked in the factory and she would as soonhave eaten with beasts without plate or spoon, as have shared a mealwith them. At one ti
me, when every thing in their house seemed going toruin, it was her own father who had suggested the papyrus factory toher attention, by telling her, with indignation, that the daughter ofan impoverished citizen had degraded herself and her whole class bydevoting herself to working in the papyrus factory to earn money. Shewas pretty well paid, to be sure, and in answer to Selene's enquiry,he had stated the amount she earned and mentioned the name of the richmanufacturer to whom she had sold her social standing for gold.
Soon after this Selene had gone alone to the factory, had discussed allthat was necessary with the manager, and had then begun, with Arsinoe,to work regularly in the factory where they now for two years had spentsome hours of every day in gumming the papyrus-leaves together.
How many a time at the beginning of a new week, or when under theinfluence of a special fit of aversion to her work, had Arsinoe refusedto go with her ever again to the factory; how much persuasive eloquencehad she expended, how many new ribbons had she bought, how often had sheconsented to allow her to go to some spectacle, which consumed half aweek's wages, to induce Arsinoe to persist in her work, or to avert thefulfilment of her threat to tell her father, whither her daily walk--asshe called it--tended.
When Selene, who had been carried as far as the door of her ownwork-room, was sitting once more in her usual place in front of the longtable on which she worked, and where hundreds of prepared papyrus stripswere to be joined together, she felt scarcely able to raise the veilfrom her face. She drew the uppermost sheets towards her, dipped thebrush in the gum-jar, and began to touch the margin of the leaf withit--but in the very act, her strength forsook her, the brush fell fromher fingers, she dropped her hands on the table and her face in herhands, and began to cry softly.
While she sat thus, her tears slowly flowing, her shoulders heaving, andher whole body shaken with shuddering sobs, a woman who sat opposite toher, beckoned to the deformed girl, and after whispering to her a fewwords grasped her hand firmly and warmly and looked straight into hereyes with her own, which though lustreless were clear and steady; thenthe little hunchback silently took Arsinoe's vacant place by Selene,and pushed the smaller half of the papyrus leaves over to the woman, andboth set diligently to work on the gumming.
They had been thus occupied for some time when Selene at last raised herhead and was about to take up her brush again. She looked round forit and perceived her companion, whom she had not even thanked forher helpfulness, busily at work in Arsinoe's seat. She looked at herneighbor with eyes still full of tears, and as the girl, who was whollyabsorbed in her task, did not notice her gaze, Selene said in a tone ofsurprise rather than kindliness.
"This is my sister's place; you may sit here to-day, but when thefactory opens again she must sit by me again."
"I know, I know," said the workwoman shyly. "I am only finishing yoursheets because I have no more of my own to do, and I can see how badlyyour foot is hurting you."
The whole transaction was so strange and novel to Selene that she didnot even understand her neighbor's meaning, and she only said, with ashrug:
"You may earn all you can, for aught I can do; I cannot do anythingto-day."
Her deformed companion colored and looked up doubtfully at her oppositeneighbor, who at once laid aside her brush and said, turning to Selene:
"That is not what Mary means, my child. She is doing one-half of yourday's task and I am doing the other, so that your suffering foot may notdeprive you of your day's pay."
"Do I look so very poor then?" exclaimed Keraunus' daughter, and a faintcrimson tinged her pale cheeks.
"By no means, my child," replied the woman. "You and your sister areevidently of good family--but pray let us have the pleasure of being ofsome help to you.
"I do not know--" Selene stammered.
"If you saw that it hurt me to stoop when the wind blows the strips ofpapyrus on to the floor, would you not willingly pick them up for me?"continued the woman. "What we are doing for you is neither less nor yetmuch more than that. In a few minutes we shall have finished and then wecan follow the others, for every one else has left. I am the overseerof the room, as you know, and must in any case remain here till the lastwork-woman has gone."
Selene felt full well that she ought to be grateful for the kindnessshown her by these two women, and yet she had a sense of having a deedof almsgiving forced upon her acceptance, and she answered quickly,still with the blood mounting to her cheeks. "I am very grateful foryour good intentions, of course, very grateful; but here each one mustwork for herself, and it would ill-become me to allow you to give me themoney you have earned."
The girl spoke these words with a decisiveness which was not freefrom arrogance, but this did not disturb the woman's gentleequanimity--"widow Hannah," as she was called by the workwoman--andfixing the calm gaze of her large eyes on Selene, she answered kindly:
"We have been very happy to work for you, dear daughter, and a divineSage has said that it is more blessed to give than to receive. Do youunderstand all that that means? In our case it is as much as to say thatit makes kind-hearted folks much happier to do others a pleasure thanto receive good gifts. You said just now that you were grateful; do youwant now to spoil our pleasure?"
"I do not quite understand--" answered Selene. "No?" interrupted widowHannah. "Then only try for once to do some one a pleasure with sincereand heartfelt love, and you will see how much good it does one, how itopens the heart and turns every trouble to a pleasure. Is it not trueMary, we shall he sincerely obliged to Selene if only she will not spoilthe pleasure we have had in working for her?"
"I have been so glad to do it," said the deformed girl, "and there--nowI have finished."
"And I too," said the widow, pressing the last leaf on to its fellowwith a cloth, and then adding her pile of finished sheets to Mary's.
"Thank you very much," murmured Selene, with downcast eyes, and risingfrom her seat, but she tried to support herself on her lame foot andthis caused her such pain, that with a low cry, she sank back on thestool. The widow hastened to her side, knelt clown by her, took theinjured foot with tender care in her delicate and slender hands,examined it attentively, felt it gently, and then exclaimed with horror:
"Good Lord! and did you walk through the streets with a foot in thisstate?" and looking up at Selene she said affectionately. "Poor child,poor child! it must have hurt you! Why the swelling has risen above yoursandal-straps. It is frightful! and yet--do you live far from this?"
"I can get home in half an hour."
"Impossible! First let me see on my tablets how much the paymaster owesyou that I may go and fetch it, and then we will soon see what can bedone with you. Meanwhile you sit still daughter dear, and you Mary resther foot on a stool and undo the straps very gently from her ankle. Donot be afraid my child, she has soft, careful hands." As she spoke sherose and kissed Selene on her forehead and eyes, and Selene clung toher and could only say with swimming eyes, and a voice trembling withfeeling:
"Dame Hannah, dear widow Hannah."
As the warm sunshine of an October clay reminds the traveller of thesummer that is over, so the widow's words and ways brought back toSelene the long lost love and care of her good mother; and somethingsoothing mingled in the bitterness of the pain she was suffering. Shelooked gratefully at the kind woman and obediently sat still; it wassuch a comfort once more to obey an order, and to obey willingly--tofeel herself a child again and to be grateful for loving care.
Hannah went away, and Mary knelt down in front of Selene to loosen andremove the straps which were half buried in the swelled muscles. She didit with the greatest caution, but her fingers had hardly touched her,when Selene shrank back with a groan, and before she could undo thesandal, the patient had fainted away. Mary fetched some water and bathedher brow, and the burning wound in her head, and by the time Selenehad once more opened her eyes, dame Hannah had returned. When the widowstroked her thick soft hair, Selene looked up with a smile and asked:"Have I been to sleep?"
"Y
ou shut your eyes my child," replied the widow. "Here are your wagesand your sister's, for twelve days; do not move, I will put it in yourlittle bag. Mary has not succeeded in loosening your sandal, but thephysician who is paid to attend on the factory people will be heredirectly, and will order what is proper for your poor foot. The manageris having a litter fetched for you.--Where do you live?"
"We?" cried Selene, alarmed. "No, no, I must go home."
"But my child you cannot walk farther than the court-yard even if weboth help you."
"Then let me get a litter out in the street. My father--no one mustknow--I cannot."
Hannah signed to Mary to leave them, and when she had shut the door onthe deformed girl, she brought a stool, sat down opposite to Selene,laid a hand on the knee that was not hurt, and said:
"Now, dear girl, we are alone. I am no chatterbox, and will certainlynot betray your confidence. Tell me quietly who you belong to. Tellme--you believe that I mean well by you?"
"Yes," replied Selene, looking the widow full in the face--aregularly-cut face, set in abundant smooth brown hair, and with thestamp of genuine and heart-felt goodness. "Yes--you remind me of mymother."
"Well, I might be your mother."
"I am nineteen years old already."
"Already," replied Hannah, with a smile. "Why my life has been twice aslong as yours. I had a child, too, a boy; and he was taken from me whenhe was quite little. He would be a year older than you now, my child--isyour mother still alive?"
"No," said Selene, with her old dry manner, that had become a habit."The gods have taken her from us. She would have been, like you, notquite forty now, and she was as pretty and as kind as you are. When shedied she left seven children besides me, all little, and one of themblind. I am the eldest, and do what I can for them, that they may not bestarved."
"God will help you in the loving task."
"The gods!" exclaimed Selene, bitterly. "They let them grow up, the restI have to see to--oh! my foot, my foot!"
"Yes, we will think of that before anything else. Your father is alive?"
"Yes."
"And he is not to know that you work here?"
Selene shook her head.
"He is in moderate circumstances, but of good family?"
"Yes."
"Here, I think, is the doctor. Well? May I know your father's name? Imust if I am to get you safe home."
"I am the daughter of Keraunus, the steward of the palace, and we haverooms there, at Lochias," Selene answered, with rapid decision, but in alow whisper, so that the physician, who just then opened the room door,might not hear her. "No one, and least of all, my father, must know thatI work here."
The widow made a sign to her to be easy, greeted the grey-haired leechwho came in with his assistant; and then, while the old man examinedthe injured limb, and cut the straps with a sharp pair of scissors, shebathed the girl's face and cut head with a wet handkerchief, supportedthe poor child in her arms, and, when the pain seemed too much for her,kissed her pale cheeks.
Many sighs from the bottom of her heart, and many shrill little criesbetrayed how intense was the pain Selene was enduring. When at length,her delicate and graceful foot-distorted just now by the extensiveswelling,--was freed from the bands and straps, and the ankle had beenfelt and pressed in every direction by the leech, he exclaimed, turningto the assistant who stood ready to lend a helping hand:
"Look here, Hippolytus, the girl came along the streets with her anklein this state. If any one else had told me of such a thing, I shouldhave desired him to keep his lies to himself. The fibula is broken atthe joint, and with this injured limb the child has walked farther thanI could trust myself at all--without my litter. By Sirius! child, if youare not crippled for life it will be a miracle."
Selene had listened with closed eyes, and exhausted almost tounconsciousness; but at his last words she slightly shrugged hershoulders with a faint smile of scorn on her lips.
"You think nothing of being lame!" said the old man, who let no gestureof his patient escape him. "That, of course, is your affair, but itis mine to see that you do not become a cripple in my hands. Theopportunity for working a miracle is not given to one of us every day,and happily for me, you yourself bring a powerful coadjutor to help me.I do not mean a lover or anything of that kind, though you are much toopretty, but your lovely, vigorous, healthy youth. The hole in your headis hotter than it need be--keep it properly cool with fresh water. Wheredo you live, child?"
"Almost half an hour from here," said Hannah, answering for Selene.
"She cannot be taken so far as that, even in a litter, at present," saidthe old man.
"I must go home!" cried Selene, resolutely, and trying to sit up.
"Nonsense," exclaimed the physician. "I must forbid your moving at all.Be still, and be patient and obedient, or your foolish joke will cometo a bad end; fever has already set in, and it will increase by theevening. It has nothing much to do with the leg, but all the more withthe inflamed scalp-wound. Do you think," he added, turning to the widow,"that perhaps a bed could be made here on which she might lie, andremain here till the factory reopens?"
"I would rather die," shrieked Selene, trying to draw away her foot fromthe leech.
"Be still--be still, my dear child," said the good woman, soothingly. "Iknow where I can take you. My house is in a garden belonging to Paulina,the widow of Pudeus, near this and close to the sea; it is not abovea thousand paces off, and there you will have a soft couch and tendercare. A good litter is waiting, and I should think--"
"Even that is a good distance," said the old man. "However, she cannotpossibly be better cared for than by you, dame Hannah. Let us try itthen, and I will accompany you to lash those accursed bearers' skins ifthey do not keep in step."
Selene made no attempt to resist these orders, and willingly drank apotion which the old man gave her; but she cried to herself as she waslifted into the litter and her foot was carefully propped on pillows.In the street, which they soon reached through a side door, she againalmost lost consciousness, and half awake but half as in a dream, sheheard the leech's voice as he cautioned the bearers to walk carefully,and saw the people, and vehicles, and horsemen pass her on their way.Then she saw that she was being carried through a large garden, and atlast she dimly perceived that she was being laid on a bed. Fromthat moment every thing was merged in a dream, though the frequentconvulsions of pain that passed over her features and now and then arapid movement of her hand to the cut in her head, showed that she wasnot altogether oblivious to the reality of her sufferings.
Dame Hannah sat by the bed, and carried out the physician's instructionswith exactness; he himself did not leave his patient till he wasperfectly satisfied with her bed and her position. Mary stayed with thewidow helping her to wet handkerchiefs and to make bandages out of oldlinen.
When Selene began to breathe more calmly Hannah beckoned her assistantto come close to her and asked in a low voice.
"Can you stay here till early to-morrow, we must take it in turns towatch her, most likely for several nights--how hot this wound on herhead is!"
"Yes, I can stay, only I must tell my mother that she may not befrightened."
"Quite right, and then you may undertake another commission for I cannotleave the poor child just now."
"Her people will be anxious about her."
"That is just where you must go; but no one besides us two must know whoshe is. Ask for Selene's sister and tell her what has happened; if yousee her father tell him that I am taking care of his daughter, and thatthe physician strictly forbids her moving or being moved. But he mustnot know that Selene is one of us workers, so do not say a word aboutthe factory before him. If you find neither Arsinoe nor her father athome, tell any one that opens the door to you that I have taken the sickchild in, and did it gladly. But about the workshop, do your hear, nota word. One thing more, the poor girl would never have come down to thefactory in spite of such pain, unless her family had been very much inneed of
her wages; so just give these drachmae to some one and say, asis perfectly true, that we found them about her person."