Der Kaiser. English

  CHAPTER XVII.

  There are often fine warm days in February, but those who fancy thespring has come find themselves deceived. The bitter, hard Sabina couldat times let soft and tender emotions get the mastery over her, but assoon as the longing of her languishing soul for maternal happiness wasgratified, she closed her heart again and extinguished the fire that hadwarmed it. Every one who approached her, even her husband, felt himselfchilled and repelled again by her manner.

  Verus was ill. The first symptoms of a liver complaint which hisphysicians had warned him might ensue, if he, an European, persistedin his dissipated life at Alexandria as if it were Rome, now began tooccasion him many uneasy hours, and this, the first physical pain thatfate had ever inflicted on him, he bore with the utmost impatience.Even the great news which Sabina brought him, realizing his boldestaspirations, had no power to reconcile him to the new sensation ofbeing ill. He learnt, at the same time, that Hadrian's alarm at thetranscendent brightness of his star had nearly cost him his adoption,and as he firmly believed that he had brought on his sufferings by hisefforts to extinguish the fire that Antinous had kindled, he bitterlyrued his treacherous interference with the Emperor's calculations. Menare always ready to cast any burden, and especially that of a fault theyhave committed, on to the shoulders of another; and so the sufferingpraetor cursed Antinous and the learning of Simeon Ben Jochai, because,if it had not been for them the mischievous folly which had spoilt hispleasure in life would never have been committed.

  Hadrian had requested the Alexandrians to postpone the theatricaldisplays and processions that they had prepared for him, as hisobservations as to the course of destiny during the coming year werenot yet complete. Every evening he ascended the lofty observatory ofthe Serapeum and gazed from thence at the stars. His labors ended onthe tenth of January; on the eleventh the festivities began. They lastedthrough many days, and by the desire of the praetor the pretty daughterof Apollodorus the Jew was chosen to represent Roxana. Everythingthat the Alexandrians had prepared to do honor to their sovereign wasmagnificent and costly. So many ships had never before been engaged inany Naumachia as were destroyed here in the sham sea-fight, no greaternumber of wild beasts had ever been seen together on any occasion evenin the Roman Circus; and how bloody were the fights of the gladiators,in which black and white combatants afforded a varied excitement forboth heart and senses. In the processions, the different elements whichwere supplied by the great central metropolis of Egyptian, Greek andOriental culture afforded such a variety of food for the eye that, inspite of their interminable length, the effect was less fatiguing thanthe Romans had feared. The performances of the tragedies and comedieswere equally rich in startling effects; conflagrations and floods wereintroduced and gave the Alexandrian actors the opportunity of displayingtheir talents with such brilliant success that Hadrian and hiscompanions were forced to acknowledge that even in Rome and Athens theyhad never witnessed any representations equally perfect.

  A piece by the Jewish author Ezekiel who, under the Ptolemies, wrotedramas in the Greek language of which the subject was taken from thehistory of his own people, particularly claimed the Emperor's attention.

  Titianus during all this festive season was unluckily suffering from anattack of old-standing breathlessness, and he also had his hands full;at the same time he did his best in helping Pontius in seeking out thesculptor Pollux. Both men did their utmost, but though they soon wereable to find Euphorion and dame Doris, every trace of their son hadvanished. Papias, the former employer of the man who had disappeared,was no longer in the city, having been sent by Hadrian to Italy toexecute centaurs and other figures to decorate his villa at Tibur. Hiswife who remained at home, declared that she knew nothing of Polluxbut that he had abruptly quitted her husband's service. The unfortunateman's fellow-workmen could give no news of him whatever, for not oneof them had been present when he was seized; Papias had had foresightenough to have the man he dreaded placed in security without thepresence of any witnesses. Neither the prefect nor the architect thoughtof seeking the worthy fellow in prison, and even if they had done sothey would hardly have found him, for Pollux was not kept in durancein Alexandria itself. The prisons of the city had overflowed after thenight of the holiday and he had been transferred to Canopus and theredetained and brought up for trial.

  Pollux had unhesitatingly owned to having taken the silver quiver and tohaving been very angry at his master's accusation. Thus he produced fromthe first an unfavorable impression on the judge, who esteemed Papiasas a wealthy man, universally respected. The accused had hardly beenallowed to speak at all and judgment was immediately pronounced againsthim, on the strength of his master's accusation and his own admissions.It would have been sheer waste of time to listen to the romances withwhich this audacious rascal--who forgot all the respect he owed tohis teacher and benefactor--wanted to cram the judges. Two years ofreflection, the protectors of the law deemed, might suffice to teachthis dangerous fellow to respect the property of others and to keep himfrom outbreaks against those to whom he owed gratitude and reverence.

  Pollux, safe in the prison at Canopus, cursed his destiny and indulgedin vain hopes of the assistance of his friends. These were at last wearyof the vain search and only asked about him occasionally. He at firstwas so insubordinate under restraint that he was put under close wardfrom which he was not released until, instead of raging with fury hedreamed away his days in sullen brooding. The gaoler knew men well, andhe thought he could safely predict that at the end of his two years'imprisonment this young thief would quit his cell a harmless imbecile.

  Titianus, Pontius, Balbilla and even Antinous had all attempted to speakof him to the Emperor, but each was sharply repulsed and taught thatHadrian was little inclined to pardon a wound to his artist's vanity.But the sovereign also proved that he had a good memory for benefitshe had received, for once, when a dish was set before him consisting ofcabbage and small sausages he smiled, and taking out his purse filledwith gold pieces, he ordered a chamberlain to take it in his name toDoris, the wife of the evicted gate-keeper. The old couple now residedin a little house of their own in the neighborhood of their widoweddaughter Diotima. Hunger and external misery came not nigh them, stillthey had experienced a great change. Poor Doris' eyes were now red andbloodshot, for they were accustomed to many tears, which were seldom faroff and overflowed whenever a word, an object, a thought reminded herof Pollux, her darling, her pride and her hope; and there were fewhalf-hours in the day when she did not think of him.

  Soon after the steward's death she had sought out Selene, but dameHannah could not and would not conduct her to see the sick girl, forshe learnt from Mary that she was the mother of her patient's faithlesslover; and on a second visit Selene was so shy, so timid and so strangein her demeanor, that the old woman was forced to conclude that hervisit was an unpleasant intrusion.

  And from Arsinoe, whose residence she discovered from the deaconess, shemet with even a worse reception. She had herself announced as the motherof Pollux the sculptor and was abruptly refused admission, with theinformation that Arsinoe was not to be spoken with by her and that hervisits were, once for all, prohibited. After the architect Pontius hadbeen to seek her out and had encouraged her to make another attemptto see and speak to Arsinoe, who clung faithfully to Pollux, Paulinaherself had received her and sent her away with such repellent wordsthat she went home to her husband deeply insulted and distressed totears. Nor had she resisted Euphorion's decision when he prohibited herever again crossing the Christian's threshold.

  The Emperor's donation had been most welcome and timely to the poor oldcouple, for Euphorion had completely lost the softness of his voice aswell as his memory through the agitations and troubles of the last fewmonths; he had been dismissed from the chorus of the theatre and couldonly find employment and very small pay of a few drachmae, in themysteries of certain petty sectarians or in singing at weddings or inhymns of lamentation. At the same time the old folks had to maintaintheir daughter
whom Pollux could no longer provide for, and the birds,the Graces and the cat all must eat. That it would be possible to getrid of them was an idea which never occurred to either Euphorion orDoris.

  By day the old folks had ceased to laugh; but at night they stillhad many cheerful hours, for then Hope would beguile them with brightpictures of the future, and tell them all sorts of possible andimpossible romances which filled their souls with fresh courage. Howoften they would see Pollux returning from the distant city whither hehad probably fled-from Rome, or even from Athens--crowned with laurelsand rich in treasure. The Emperor, who still so kindly remembered them,could not always be angry with him; perhaps he might some day send amessenger to seek Pollux and to make up to him by large commissions forall he had made him suffer. That her darling was alive she was sure; inthat she could not be mistaken, often as Euphorion tried to persuade herthat he must be dead. The singer could tell many tales of luckless menwho had been murdered and never seen or heard of again; but she was notto be convinced, she persisted in hope, and lived wholly in the purposeof sending her younger son, Teuker, on his travels to seek his lostbrother as soon as his apprenticeship was over, which would be in a fewmonths.

  Antinous, whose burnt hands had soon got well under the Emperor's care,and who had never felt a liking and friendship for any other young manbut Pollux, lamented the artist's disappearance and wished much to seekout dame Doris; but he found it harder than ever to leave his master,and was so eager always to be at hand that Hadrian often laughinglyreproached him with making his slaves' duties too light.

  When at last he really was master of an hour to himself he postponed hisintention of seeing his friend's parents; for with him there was alwaysa wide world between the purpose and the deed which he never couldoverleap, if not urged by some strong impulse; and his most pressinginstincts prompted him, when the Emperor was disputing in the Museumor receiving instructions from the chiefs of the different religiouscommunities as to the doctrines they severally professed, to visit thesuburban villa where, when February had already begun, Selene was stillliving. He had often succeeded in stealing into Paulina's garden, buthe could not at first realize his hope of being observed by Selene ofobtaining speech with her. Whenever he went near Hannah's little house,Mary, the deformed girl, would come in his way, tell him how her friendwas, and beg or desire him to go away. She was always with the sickgirl, for now her mother was nursed by her sister, and dame Hannahhad obtained permission for her to work at home in gumming thepapyrus-strips together.

  The widow herself was obliged to be at her post in the factory, for herduties as overseer made her presence indispensable in the work-room.

  Thus it came to pass that it was always by Mary and never by Hannah thatAntinous was received and dismissed. A certain understanding hadarisen between the beautiful youth and the deformed girl. When Antinousappeared and she called out to him: "What, again already!" he wouldgrasp her hand and implore her only once to grant his wish; but she wasalways firm, only she never sent him away sternly but with smiles andfriendly admonitions. When he brought rare and lovely flowers in hispallium and entreated her to give them to Selene in the name of herfriend at Lochias, she would take them and promise to place them in herroom; but she always said it would do neither him nor her any good atall that Selene should know from whom they came. After such repulses hewell knew how to flatter and coax her with appealing words, but he hadnever dared to defy her or to gain his end by force. When the flowerswere placed in the room Mary looked at them much oftener than Selenedid, and when Antinous had been long absent the deformed girl longed tosee him again, and would pace restlessly up and down between the gardengate and her friend's little house. She, like him, dreamed of an angel,and the angel of whom she dreamed was exactly like himself. In allher prayers she included the name of the handsome heathen and a softtenderness in which a gentle pity was often infused, a grief for hisunredeemed soul, was inseparable from all her thoughts of him.

  Hannah was informed by her of each of the young man's visits, andas often as Mary mentioned Antinous the deaconess seemed anxious anddesired her to threaten to call the gate-keeper to him. The widow knewfull well who her patient's indefatigable admirer was, for she had onceheard him speaking to Mastor, and she had asked the slave, who availedhimself of every spare moment to attend the services of the Christians,who the lad was. All Alexandria, nay all the Empire, knew the name ofthe most beautiful youth of his time, the spoilt favorite of Caesar.Even Hannah had heard of him and knew that poets sang his praises andheathen women were eager to obtain a glance from his eyes. She knewhow devoid of all morality were the lives of the nobles at Rome, andAntinous appeared to her as a splendid falcon that wheels above a doveto swoop down upon it at a favorable moment and to tear it in its beakand talons. Hannah also knew that Selene was acquainted with Antinous,that it was he who had formerly rescued her from the big dog andafterward saved her from the water; but that Selene, who was nowrecovering, did not know who her preserver had been on this secondoccasion was clear from all that she said.

  Towards the end of February Antinous had come on three days insuccession, and Hannah now took the step of begging the bishop, Eumenes,to give the gate keeper strict injunctions to look out for the youngman and to forbid his entering the garden, even with force if it shouldprove necessary.

  But "love laughs at locksmiths" and finds its way through locked doors,and Antinous succeeded all the same in finding his way into Paulina'sgarden. On one of these occasions he was so happy to surprise Selene,as, supported on a stick and accompanied by a fair-haired boy and dameHannah herself, she hobbled up and down.

  Antinous had learnt to regard everything crippled or defective withaversion, as a monstrous failure of nature's plastic harmony, but topity it tenderly; but now he felt quite differently. Mary with herhumpback had at first horrified him; now he was always glad to see herthough she always crossed his wishes; and poor lame Selene, who had beenmocked at by the street boys as she limped along, seemed to him moreadorable than ever. How lovely were her face and form, how peculiar herway of walking--she did not limp--no, she swayed along the garden. Thus,as he said to himself afterwards, the Nereids are borne along on theundulating waves. Love is easily satisfied, nor is this strange, forit raises all that comes within its embrace to a loftier level ofexistence. In the light of love weakness is a virtue and want anadditional charm.

  But the Bithynian's visits were not the widow's only cares; thoughshe bore the others, it is true, not anxiously but with pleasure. Herhousehold had increased by two living souls, and her income was verysmall. That her patient might not want, she had to work with her ownhands while she superintended the girls in the factory, and to carryhome with her in the evening papyrus-leaves, not only for Mary, butfor herself too, and to glue them together during the long hours of thenight. As soon as Selene's condition improved, she too helped willinglyand diligently, but for many weeks the convalescent had to give up everykind of employment.

  Mary often looked at Hannah in silent trouble, for she looked very pale.After she had, on one occasion fallen in a fainting fit, the deformedgirl had gathered courage and had represented to her that though sheought indeed to put out at interest the talent intrusted to her by theLord, she ought not to spend it recklessly. She was giving herself norest, working day and night; visiting the poor and sick in her hours ofrecreation just as she used, and if she did not give herself more restwould soon need nursing instead of nursing others.

  "At any rate," urged Mary, "give yourself a little indispensable sleepat night."

  "We must live," replied Hannah, "and I dare not borrow, for I may neverbe able to repay."

  "Then beg Paulina to remit your house-rent; she will do so gladly."

  "No," said Hannah, decidedly. "The rent of this little house goes tobenefit my poor people, and you know how badly they want it. What wegive we lend to the Lord, and he taxes no man above his ability."

  Selene was now well, but the physician had said that no human skill
could ever cure her of her lameness. She had become Hannah's daughter,and blind Helios the son of the house.

  Arsinoe was only allowed to see her sister rarely and always accompaniedby her protectress, and she and Selene never were able to have anyunchecked and open conversation. The steward's eldest daughter was nowcontented and cheerful, while the younger was not only saddened by thedisappearance of her lover, but also, from being unhappy in her newhome, she had become fractious and easily moved to shed tears. All waswell with the younger orphans; they were often taken to see Selene, andspoke with affection of their new parents.

  As she got well her help diminished the strain on her two friends,and in the beginning of March a call came to the widow which, if shefollowed it, must give their simple existence a new aspect.

  In Upper Egypt certain Christian fraternities had been established, andone of these had addressed a prayer to the great mother-community atAlexandria, that it would send to them a presbyter, a deacon anda deaconess capable of organizing and guiding the believers andcatechumens in the province of Hermopolis where they were alreadynumbered by thousands. The life of the community and the care of thepoor, and sick in the outlying districts required organization byexperienced hands, and Hannah had been asked whether she could make upher mind to leave the metropolis and carry on the work of benevolence atBesa in an extended sphere.

  She would there have a pleasant house, a palm-garden, and gifts from thecongregation which would secure not merely her own maintenance, but thatof her adopted children.

  Hannah was bound to Alexandria by many ties; in the first place sheclung to the poor and sick, many of whom had grown very dear to her,and how many girls who had gone astray had she rescued from evil in thefactory alone! She begged for a short time for reflection, and this wasgranted to her. By the fifteenth of March she was to decide, but bythe fifth she had already made up her mind, for while Hannah was in thepapyrus-factory Antinous had succeeded in getting into Paulina's gardenshortly before sunset and in stealing close up to Hannah's house. Maryagain observed him as he approached and signed to him to go, in herusual pleasant way; but the Bithynian was more excited than usual; heseized her hand and clasped her with urgent warmth as he implored herto be merciful. She endeavored at once to free herself, but he would notlet her go, but cried in coaxing tones:

  "I must see her and speak to her to-day, dear, good Mary, only thisonce!" And before she could prevent it he had kissed her forehead andhad flown into the house to Selene. The little hunchback did not knowwhat had happened to her; confused and almost paralyzed by conflictingfeelings she stood shame-faced, gazing at the ground. She felt thatsomething quite extraordinary had happened to her, but this wonderfulsomething radiated a dazzling splendor, and since this had risen forher, for poor Mary, a feeling of pride quite new to her mingled with theshame and indignation that filled her soul. She needed a few minutesto collect herself and to recover a sense of her duty, and those fewminutes were made good use of by Antinous.

  He flew with long steps into the room in which, on thatnever-to-be-forgotten night, he had laid Selene on the couch, and evenat the threshold he called her by her name. She started and laid asidethe book out of which she was reading to her blind brother. He called asecond time, beseechingly. Selene recognized him and asked calmly:

  "Do you want me, or dame Hannah?"

  "You, you!" he cried passionately. "Oh Selene, I pulled you out of thewater, and since that night I have never ceased to think of you and Imust die for love of you. Have your thoughts never, never met mine onthe way to you? Are you still and always as cold, as passive as you werethen when you belonged half to life and half to death? For months haveI prowled round this house as the shade of a dead man haunts the spotwhere he had left all that was dear to him on earth, and I have neverbeen able to tell you what I feel for you?" As he spoke the lad fellon the ground before her and tried to clasp her knees; but she saidreproachfully:

  "What does all this mean? Stand up and compose yourself."

  "Oh! let me, let me--" he besought her. "Do not be so cold and so hard;have pity on me and do not reject me!"

  "Stand up," repeated the girl. "I will certainly not reproach you--I oweyou thanks on the contrary."

  "Not thanks, but love--a little love is all I ask."

  "I try to love all men," replied the girl, "and so I love you becauseyou have shown me very much kindness."

  "Selene, Selene!" he exclaimed in joyful triumph. He threw himself againat her feet and passionately seized her right hand; but hardly had hetaken it in his own when Mary, scarlet with agitation, rushed into theroom. In a husky voice, full of hatred and fury, she commanded him toleave the house at once, and when he attempted again to besiege her earwith entreaties she cried out:

  "If you do not obey I will call the men in to help us, who are out thereattending to the flowers. I ask you, will you obey or will you not?"

  "Why are you so cruel, Mary?" asked the blind boy. "This man is good andkind and tells Selene he loves her."

  Antinous pointed to the child with an imploring gesture but Mary wasalready by the window and was raising her hand to her mouth to make hercall heard.

  "Don't, don't," cried Antinous. "I am going at once."

  And he went slowly and silently towards the door, still gazing at Selenewith passionate ardor; then he quitted the room groaning with shame anddisappointment, though still with a look of radiant pride as though hehad achieved some great deed. In the garden he was met by Hannah, whoimmediately hastened with accelerated steps to her own house where shefound Mary sobbing violently and dissolved in tears.

  The widow was soon informed of all that had occurred in her absence, andan hour later she had announced to the bishop that she would accept thecall to Besa and was ready to start for Upper Egypt.

  "With your foster-children?" asked Eumenes.

  "Yes. It was indeed Selene's most earnest wish to be baptized by you,but as a year of probation is required--"

  "I will perform the rite to-morrow morning."

  "To-morrow, Father?"

  "Yes, Sister, in all confidence. She buried the old man in the waves ofthe sea, and before we were her teachers she had gone through the schooland discipline of life. While she was yet a heathen she had taken up hercross and proved herself as faithful as though she were a child of theLord. All that was lacking to her--Faith, Love and Hope--she has foundunder your roof. I thank thee for this soul thou hast found Sister, inthe name of the Lord."

  "Not I, not I," said the widow. "Her heart was frozen, but it is not Ibut the innocent faith of the blind child that has melted it."

  "She owes her salvation to him and to you," replied the bishop, "andthey both shall be baptized together. We will give the lovely boy thename of the fairest of the disciples, and call him John. Selene for thefuture, if she herself likes it, shall be known as Martha."