CHAPTER XXIII.
In Alexandria the news of the nomination of the "sham Eros" to bethe Emperor's successor was hailed with joy, and the citizens availedthemselves gladly of his fresh and favorable opportunity to hold onefestival after another. Titianus took care to provide for the dueperformance of the usual acts of grace, and among others he threw openthe prison-gates of Canopus, and the sculptor Pollux was set at liberty.
The hapless artist had grown pale, it is true, in durance vile, butneither leaner nor enfeebled in body; on the other hand all the vigorof his intellect, all his bright courage for life and his happy creativeinstinct, seemed altogether crushed out of him. His face, as in hisdirty and ragged chiton, he journeyed from Canopus to Alexandria,revealed neither eager thankfulness for the unexpected boon of liberty,nor happiness at the prospect of seeing again his own people andArsinoe.
In the town he went, unintelligently dreaming as he walked, from onestreet to another, but he was familiar with every stone of the way, andhis feet found their way to his sister's house. How happy was Diotima,how her children rejoiced, how impatient was each one to conduct himto the old folks! How high in the air the Graces frisked and leapedin front of the new little home to welcome the returned absentee! AndDoris, poor Doris, almost fainted with joyful surprise and her husbandhad to support her in his arms when her long vanished son, whom she hadnever given up for lost, however, suddenly stood before her and said:"Here am I." How fondly she kissed and caressed her dear, cruel,restored fugitive. The singer too loudly expressed his joy alike inverse and in prose, and fetched his best theatrical dress out of thechest to put it on his son in the place of his ragged chiton.
A mighty torrent of curses and execrations flowed from the old man'slips as Pollux told his story. The sculptor found it difficult to bringit to an end, for his father interrupted him at every word, and all thewhile he was talking his mother forced him to eat and drink incessantly,even when he could no more. After he had assured her that he was longsince replete, she pushed two more pots on to the fire, for he must havebeen half-starved in prison, and what he did not want now he would findroom for two hours hence. Euphorion himself conducted Pollux to the bathin the evening, and as they went home together he never for an instantleft his side; the sense of being near him did him good and was likesome comfortable physical sensation.
The singer was not usually inquisitive, but on this occasion he neverceased asking questions till Doris led her son to the bed she hadfreshly made for him. After the artist had gone to rest, the old womanonce more slipped into his room, kissed his forehead, and said:
"To-day you have still been thinking too much of that hideousprison--but to-morrow my boy, to-morrow you will be the same as before,will you not?"
"Only leave me alone mother; I shall soon be better," he replied. "Thisbed is as good as a sleeping-draught; the plank in the prison was quitea different thing."
"You have never asked once for your Arsinoe," said Doris.
"What can she matter to me? Only let me sleep." But the next morningPollux was just the same as he had been the previous evening, and as thedays went on his condition remained unchanged. His head drooped on hisbreast, he never spoke but when he was spoken to, and when Doris orEuphorion tried to talk to him of the future, he would ask: "Am I aburden to you?" or begged them not to worry him.
Still, he was gentle and kind, took his sister's children in his arms,played with the Graces, whistled to the birds, went in and out, andplayed a valiant part at every meal. Now and again he would ask afterArsinoe. Once he allowed himself to be guided to the house where shelived, but he would not knock at Paulina's door and seemed overawed bythe grandeur of the house. After he had been brooding and dreaming fora week, so idle, listless, and absent that his mother's heart was filledwith anxious fears every time she looked at him, his brother Teuker hitupon a happy idea.
The young gem-cutter was not usually a frequent visitor to his parents'house, but since the return of the hapless Pollux he called there almostdaily. His apprenticeship was over and he seemed on the high-road tobecome a great master in his art; nevertheless he esteemed his brother'sgifts as far beyond his own and had tried to devise some means ofreawakening the dormant energies of the luckless man's brain.
"It was at this table," said Teuker to his mother, "that Pollux usedto sit. This evening I will bring in a lump of clay and a good pieceof modelling wax. Just put it all on the table and lay his tools bythe side of it; perhaps when he sees them he will take a fancy againto work. If he can only make up his mind to model even a doll for thechildren he will soon get into the vein again, and he will go on fromsmall things to great."
Teuker brought the materials, Doris set them out with the modellingtools, and next morning watched her son's proceedings with an anxiousheart. He got up late, as he had always done since his return home, andsat a long time over the bowl of porridge which his mother had preparedfor his breakfast. Then he sauntered across to his table, stood in frontof it awhile, broke off a piece of clay and kneaded and moulded it inhis fingers into balls and cylinders, looked at one of them more closelyand then, flinging it on the ground, he said, as he leaned acrossthe table supporting himself on both hands to put his face near hismother's:
"You want me to work again; but it is of no use--I could do no good withit."
The old woman's eyes filled with tears, but she did not answer him. Inthe evening Pollux begged her to put away the tools.
When he was gone to bed she did so, and while she was moving about witha light in the dark, lumber-room in which she had kept them with otherdisused things, her eye fell on the unfinished wax model which had beenthe last work of her ill-starred son. A new idea struck her. She calledEuphorion, made him throw the clay into the court-yard and place themodel on the table by the side of the wax. Then she put out the verysame tools as he had been using on the fateful day of their expulsionfrom Lochias, close to the cleverly-sketched portrait, and begged herhusband to go out with her quite early next morning and to remain absenttill mid-day.
"You will see," she said, "when he is standing face to face with hislast work and there is no one by to disturb him or look at him, he willfind the ends of the threads that have been cut and perhaps be able togather them up again and go on with the work where it was interrupted."
The mother's heart had hit upon the right idea. When Pollux had eatenhis breakfast he went to his table exactly as he had done the claybefore; but the sight of the work in hand had quite a different effectto the mere raw clay and wax. His eyes sparkled; he walked round thetable with an attentive gaze examining his work as keenly and as eagerlyas if it were some fine thing he saw for the first time. Memory revivedin his mind. He laughed aloud, clasped his hands and said to himself,"Capital! Something may be made of that!"
His dull weariness slipped off him, as it were; a confident smile partedhis lips and he seized the wax with a firm hand. But he did not beginto work at once; he only tried whether his fingers had not lost theircunning, and whether the yielding material was obedient to his will. Thewax was no less docile to his touch than in former days, as he pinchedor pulled it. Perhaps then the tormenting thought that blighted hislife, the dread that in the prison he had ceased to be an artist, andhad lost all his faculty was nothing more than a mad delusion! He mustat any rate try how he could get on at the work.
No one was by to observe him--he might dare the attempt at once.The sweat of anguish stood in large beads on his brow as he finallyconcentrated his volition, shook back the hair from his face and tookup a lump of the wax in both hands. There stood the portrait of Antinouswith the head only half-finished. Now--could he succeed in modellingthat lovely head free-hand and from memory?
His breath came fast, and his hands trembled as he set to work; but soonhis hand was as steady as ever, his eye was calm and keen again, and thework progressed. The fine features of the young Bithynian were distinctto his mind's eye, and when, about four hours after, his mother lookedin at the window to see what Pollux was
doing, whether her littlestratagem had succeeded, she cried out with surprise, for the favorite'sbust, a likeness in every feature, stood on a plinth side by side withthe original sketch. Before she could cross the threshold her son hadrun to meet her, lifted her in his arms, and kissing her forehead andlips he exclaimed, radiant with delight:
"Mother, I still can work. Mother, mother, I am not lost!"
In the afternoon his brother came in and saw what he had been doing, andnow--and not till now--could Teuker honestly be glad to have found hisbrother again.
While the two artists were sitting together, and the gem-cutter wassuggesting to the sculptor, who had complained of the bad light inhis parent's house, that he should carry the statue to his master'sworkshop--which was much lighter--to complete it, Euphorion had quietlygone to some remote corner of his provision-shed and brought to light anamphora full of noble Chian wine which had been given to him by a richmerchant, for whose wedding he had performed the part of Hymenaeus witha chorus of youths. For twenty years had he still preserved this jar ofwine for some specially happy occasion. This jar and his best lute werethe only objects which Euphorion had carried with his own hand fromLochias to his daughter's house and then again to his own new abode.With an air of dignified pride the singer set the old amphora before hissons, but Doris laid hands upon it at once and said:
"I am glad to bestow the good gift upon you, and would willingly drink acup of it with you; but a prudent general does not celebrate his triumphbefore he has won the battle. As soon as the statue of the beautiful ladis completed, I myself, will wreathe this venerable jar with ivy, andbeg you spare it to us, my dear old man--but not before."
"Mother is right," said Pollux. "And if the amphora is really destinedfor me, if you will allow it, my father shall not remove the pitch wigfrom its venerable head, till Arsinoe is mine once more!"
"That is well my boy," cried Doris, "and then I will crown, not merelythe jar but all of us too, with nothing but sweet roses."
The next day Pollux, with his unfinished statue, removed to the workshopof his brother's master. The worthy man cleared the best place for theyoung sculptor, for he thought highly of him and wished to make good, asfar as lay in his power, the injustice the poor fellow had suffered fromthe treachery of Papias. Now, from sunrise till evening fell, Pollux wasconstant to his work. He gave himself up to the resuscitated pleasureand power of creation with real passion. Instead of using wax he hadrecourse to clay, and formed a tall figure which represented Antinous asthe youthful Bacchus, as the god might have appeared to the pirates. Amantle fell in light folds from his left shoulder to his ankles, leavingthe broad breast and right aria entirely free; vine-leaves and grapeswreathed his flowing locks, and a pine-cone, flame-shaped, crownedhis brow. The left arm was raised in a graceful curve, and his fingerslightly grasped a thyrsus which rested on the ground and stood tallerthan the god's head; by the side of this magnificent figure stood amighty wine-jar, half hidden by the drapery.
For a whole week Pollux had devoted himself to this task during all thehours of daylight with unflagging zeal and diligence. Before night fellhe was accustomed to leave his work and walk up and down in front ofPaulina's house, but for the present he refrained from knocking at thedoor and asking after the girl he loved. He had heard from his motherhow anxiously she was guarded from him and his; still Paulina's severitywould certainly not have hindered the artist from making the attempt topossess himself of his dearest treasure. What held him back from evenapproaching Arsinoe, was the vow he had made to himself never to tempther to quit her new and sheltered home till he had acquired a firmcertainty of being once for all an artist, a true artist, who might hopeto do something great, and who might dare to link the fate of the womanhe loved, with his own.
When, on the eighth morning of his labors, he was taking a few minutesrest, his brother's master came past the rapidly advancing work, andafter contemplating it for some time exclaimed:
"Splendid, splendid! Our time has produced nothing to compare with it!"
An hour later Pollux was standing at the door of Paulina's town-house,and let the knocker fall heavily on the door. The steward opened to himand asked him what he wanted. He asked to speak with dame Paulina,but she was not at home. Then he asked after Arsinoe, the daughter ofKeraunus, who had found a home with the rich widow. The servant shookhis head.
"My mistress is having her searched for," he said. "She disappearedyesterday evening. The ungrateful creature! She has tried to run awayseveral times before now."
The artist laughed, slapped the steward on the back, and said:
"I will soon find her!" and he sprang away down the street, and back tohis parents.
Arsinoe had received much kindness in Paulina's house, but she had alsogone through many bad hours. For months she had been obliged to believethat her lover was dead. Pontius had told her that Pollux had entirelyvanished and her benefactress persisted in al ways speaking of him asof one dead. The poor child had shed many tears for him, and whenthe longing to talk of him with some one who had known him had takenpossession of her she had entreated Paulina to allow her to go to seehis mother or to let Doris visit her. But the widow had desired her togive up all thought of the idol-maker and his belongings, speaking withcontempt of the gate-keeper's worthy wife. Just at that time Selene alsoleft the city, and now Arsinoe's longing for her old friends grew to apassionate craving to see them again.
One day she yielded to the promptings of her heart and slipped out intothe street to seek Doris; but the door-keeper, who had been charged byPaulina never to allow her to go outside the door without hismistress's express permission, noticed her and brought her back to herprotectress--not this time only, but, on several subsequent occasionswhen she attempted to escape.
It was not merely her longing to talk about Pollux which made her newhome unendurable to Arsinoe, but many other reasons besides. She feltlike a prisoner; and in fact she was one, for after each attempt atflight her freedom of movement was still farther impeded. It is truethat she had soon ceased to submit patiently to all that was required ofher and even had often opposed her adoptive mother with vehement words,tears and execrations, but these unpleasant scenes, which always endedby a declaration on Paulina's part that she forgave the girl, hadalways resulted in a long break in her drives and in a variety ofsmall annoyances. Arsinoe was beginning to hate her benefactress andeverything that surrounded her, and the hours of catechising and ofprayer, which she could not escape, were a positive martyrdom. Ere longthe doctrine to which Paulina sought to win her was confounded in hermind with that which it was intended to drive out, and she defiantlyshut her heart against it.
Bishop Eumenes, who had been elected in the spring Patriarch of theChristians of Alexandria, visited her oftener than usual during thesummer when Paulina lived in her suburban villa. Paulina, it is true,had fancied she could do without his help, and that she could and mustcarry her task through to the end by herself; but the worthy old man hadfelt sympathetically drawn to the poor ill-guided child, and sought tosoothe and calm her mind and show her the goal, towards which Paulinadesired to lead her, in all its beauty. After such discourses Arsinoewould be softened and felt inclined to believe in God and to loveChrist, but no sooner had her protectress called her again into theschool-room and put the very same things before her in her own way thanthe girl's heartstrings drew close again; and when she was desired topray she raised her hands, indeed, but out of sheer defiance, she prayedin spirit to the Greek gods.
Frequently Paulina received visits from heathen acquaintances in richdresses and the sight of them always reminded Arsinoe of former days.How poor she had been then! and yet she had always had a blue or a redribbon to plait in her hair and trim the edge of her peplum. Nowshe might wear none but white dresses and the least scrap of coloredornament to dress her hair or smarten her robe was strictly forbidden.Such vain trifles, Paulina would say, were very well for the heathen,but the Lord looked not at the body but at the heart.
A
h! and the poor little heart of the hapless child could not offer avery pleasing sight to the Father in Heaven, for hatred and disgust,sadness, impatience, and blasphemy seethed in it from morning tillnight. This young nature was surely formed for love and contentment, andboth had left her weeping. Still Arsinoe never ceased to yearn for them.
When November had begun and another attempt to run away during theirmove back to the town-house had failed, Paulina tried to punish her bynever speaking a word to her for a fortnight, and forbidding even theslave-women to speak to her. In these two weeks the talkative girl wasreduced almost to desperation, and she even thought of throwing herselfoff the roof down into the court-yard. But she clung too dearly to lifeto carry this horrible project into execution. On the first of DecemberPaulina once more spoke to her, forgave her ingratitude, as usual in along, kind speech, and told her how many hours she had spent in prayingfor her enlightenment and improvement.
Paulina spoke the truth, and yet but half the truth, for she had neverfelt a real love for Arsinoe, and had now for a long time watched hercome and go with actual dislike; but she required her conversion inorder that the warmest wish of her heart might find fulfilment. Itwas for the happiness of her daughter, and not for the sake of herrecalcitrant companion, that she prayed for her enlightenment and neverceased in her efforts to open the callous heart of her adopted child tothe true faith.
In the afternoon preceding that morning when Pollux had at last knockedat the Christian widow's door, the sun shone with particular brilliancy,and Paulina had allowed the girl to go out with her. They spent somelittle time with a Christian family who dwelt on the shore of LakeMareotis, and so it fell out that they did not return home till late inthe evening. Arsinoe had long learnt, while she sat apparently gazing atthe ground, to keep her eyes out of the carriage and to see everythingthat was going on around her; and as the chariot turned into theirown street she spied in the distance a tall man who looked like herlong-wept Pollux. She fixed her eyes upon him, and had some difficultyin keeping herself from calling out aloud, for he it was who walkedslowly down the street. She could not be mistaken, for the torches oftwo slaves who were walking in front of a litter had broadly lighted uphis face and figure.
He was not lost--he was living, and seeking her. She could have shoutedaloud for joy, but she did not stir till Paulina's chariot was standingstill in front of her house. The door-keeper bustled out as usual tohelp his mistress to step out of the high-slung vehicle. Thus Paulinafor an instant turned her back, and in that moment Arsinoe sprang out ofthe opposite side of the chariot, and was flying down towards the streetwhere she had seen her lover. Before Paulina could discover that she wasgone the runaway found herself in the midst of the throng which, whenthe day's work was over, poured out from the workshops and factories ontheir way home.
Paulina's slaves, who were sent out at once to seek the fugitive, hadto return home this time empty-handed; but Arsinoe, on her part, had notsucceeded in finding him she sought. For an hour she looked roundand about her in vain; then she perceived that her search must beunsuccessful, and wondered how she might find her way to his parents'house. Rather than return to her benefactress she would have joined theroofless crew who passed the night on the hard marble pavement of theforecourts of the temple.
At first she rejoiced in the sense of recovered liberty, but when noneof the passers-by could tell her where Euphorion, the singer, lived, andsome young men followed her and addressed her with impudent speeches,terror made her turn aside into a street which led to the Bruchiom;her persecutors had not even then ceased to follow her, when a litter,escorted by lictors and several torch-bearers, was carried past. It wasJulia, the kind wife of the prefect, who sat in it; Arsinoe recognizedher at once, followed her, and reached the door of her residence atthe same moment as she herself. As the matron got out of her litter sheobserved the girl who placed herself modestly, but with hands upliftedin entreaty, at the side of her path. Julia greeted the pretty creaturein whom she had once taken a motherly interest with affectionatesympathy, beckoned Arsinoe to her, smiled as she listened to herrequest for a night's shelter, and led her with much satisfaction to herhusband.
Titianus was ill; still he was glad once more to see the ill-fatedpalace-steward's pretty daughter; he listened to her story of her flightwith many signs of disapprobation, but kindly withal, and expressed thewarmest satisfaction at hearing that the sculptor Pollux was still inthe land of the living.
The grand and lordly bed in one of the strangers' rooms in the prefect'shouse had held many a more illustrious guest, but never one whosesleep was brightened by happier dreams than the poor orphaned "littlefugitive," who, no longer ago than yesterday, had cried herself tosleep.
CHAPTER XXIV.
Arsinoe was up betimes on the following morning; much embarrassed byall the splendor that surrounded her, she walked up and down her roomthinking of Pollux. Then she stopped to take pleasure in her own imagedisplayed in a large mirror which stood on a dressing-table, and betweenwhiles she compared the couch, on which she lay clown again at fulllength, with those in Paulina's house. Once more she felt herself aprisoner, but this time she liked her prison, and presently, when sheheard slaves passing by her room, she flew to the door to listen, forit was just possible that Titianus might have sent to fetch Pollux,and would allow him to come to see her. At last a slave-woman came in,brought her some breakfast, and desired her from Julia to go into thegarden and look at the flowers and aviaries till she should be sent for.
Early that morning the news had reached the prefect that Antinous hadsought his death in the Nile, and it had shocked him greatly, less onaccount of the hapless youth than for Hadrian's sake. When he had giventhe proper officials orders to announce the melancholy news and todesire the citizens to give some public expression of their sympathywith the Emperor's sorrow, he gave audience to the Patriarch Eumenes.
This venerable man, ever since the transactions which he hadconducted--with reference to the thanksgiving of the Christians for thesafety of the Emperor after the fire, had been one of the most esteemedfriends of Titianus and Julia. The prefect discussed with the Patriarchthe inauspicious effects that the death of the young fellow might beexpected to have on the Emperor, and as a result, on the government,although the favorite had had no qualities of mind to distinguish him.
"Whenever Hadrian," continued Titianus, "would give his unrestingbrain an hour's relaxation, and release himself from disappointment andvexation and the severe toil and anxiety of which his life is overfull,he would go out hunting with the bold youth or would have the handsome,good-hearted boy into his own room. The sight of the Bithynian'sbeauty delighted his eye, and how well Antinous knew how to listen tohim--silent, modest and attentive! Hadrian loved him as a son, andthe poor fellow clung to his master in return with more than a son'sfidelity; his death itself proved it. Caesar himself said to me once;'In the midst of the turmoil of waking life, when I see Antinous afeeling comes over me as if a beautiful dream stood incorporate beforemy eyes.'
"Caesar's grief at losing him must indeed be great," said the Patriarch.
"And the loss will add to the gloom of his grave and brooding nature,render his restless scheming and wandering still more capricious, andincrease his suspiciousness and irritability."
"And the circumstances under which Antinous perished," added Eumenes,"will afford new ground for his attachment to superstitions."
"That is to be feared. We have not happy days before us; the revolt inJudaea, too, will again cost thousands of lives."
"If only it had been granted to you to assume the government of thatprovince."
"But you know, my worthy friend, the condition I am in. On my bad daysI am incapable of commanding a thought or opening my lips. When mybreathlessness increases I feel as if I were being suffocated. I haveplaced many decades of my life at the disposal of the state, and I nowfeel justified in devoting the diminished strength which is left me toother things. I and my wife think of retiring to my property
by lakeLarius, and there to try whether we may succeed, she and I, in becomingworthy of the salvation and capable of apprehending the truth that youhave offered us. You are there Julia? As the determination to retirefrom the world has matured in us, we have, both of us, remembered morethan once the words of the Jewish sage, which you lately told us of.When the angel of God drove the first man out of Paradise, he said:'Henceforth your heart must be your Paradise.' We are turning our backson the pleasure of a city life--"
"And we do so without regret," said Julia, interrupting her husband,"for we bear in our minds the germ of a more indestructible, purer, andmore lasting happiness."
"Amen!" said the Patriarch. "Where two such as you dwell together therethe Lord is third in the bond." "Give us your disciple Marcianus to beour travelling-companion," said Titianus.
"Willingly," said Eumenes. "Shall he come to visit you when I leaveyou?"
"Not immediately," replied Julia. "I have this morning an important andat the same time pleasant business to attend to. You know Paulina, thewidow of Pudeus. She took into her keeping a pretty young creature--"
"And Arsinoe has run away from her."
"We took her in here," said Titianus. "Her protectress seems to havefailed in attracting her to her, or in working favorably on her nature."
"Yes," said the Patriarch. "There was but one key to her full, brightheart--Love--but Paulina tried to force it open with coercion andpersistent driving. It remained closed--nay, the lock is spoiled.--But,if I may ask, how came the girl into your house?"
"That I can tell you later, we did not make her acquaintance for thefirst time yesterday."
"And I am going to fetch her lover to her," cried the prefect's wife.
"Paulina will claim her of you," said the Patriarch. "She is havingher sought for everywhere; but the child will never thrive under herguidance."
"Did the widow formally adopt Arsinoe?" asked Titianus.
"No; she proposed doing so as soon as her young pupil--"
"Intentions count for nothing in law, and I can protect our prettylittle guest against her claim."
"I will fetch her," said Julia. "The time must certainly have seemedvery long to her already. Will you come with me, Eumenes?"
"With pleasure," replied the old man, "Arsinoe and I are excellentfriends; a conciliatory word from me will do her good, and my blessingcannot harm even a heathen. Farewell, Titianus, my deacons are expectingme."
When Julia returned to the sitting-room with her protegee, the child'seyes were wet with tears, for the kind words of the venerable oldman had gone to her heart and she knew and acknowledged that she hadexperienced good as well as evil from Paulina.
The matron found her husband no longer alone. Wealthy old Plutarchwith his two supporters was with him, and in black garments, which weredecorated with none but white flowers, instead of many colored garments;he presented a singular appearance. The old man was discoursing eagerlyto the prefect; but as soon as he saw Arsinoe he broke off his harangue,clapped his hands and was quite excited with the pleasure of seeingonce more the fair Roxana for whom he had once visited in vain all thegold-workers' shops in the city.
"But I am tired," cried Plutarch, with quite youthful vivacity, "I amquite tired of keeping the ornaments for you. There are quite enoughother useless things in my house. They belong to you, not to me, andthis very day I will send them to the noble Julia, that she may givethem to you. Give me your hand, dear child; you have grown paler butmore womanly. What do you think, Titianus, she would still do forRoxana; only your wife must find a dress for her again. All in white,and no ribband in your hair!--like a Christian."
"I know some one who will find out the way to fitly crown these softtresses," replied Julia. "Arsinoe is the bride of Pollux, the sculptor."
"Pollux!" exclaimed Plutarch, in extreme excitement. "Move me forward,Antaeus and Atlas, the sculptor Pollux is her lover? A great, a splendidartist! The very same, noble Titianus, of whom I just now speaking toyou."
"You know him?" asked the prefect's wife.
"No, but I have just left the work-shop of Periander, the gem-cutter,and there I saw the model of a statue of Antinous that is unique,marvellous, incomparable! The Bithynian as Dionysus! The work would dono discredit to a Phidias, to a Lysippus. Pollux was out of the way,but I laid my hand at once on his work; the young master must execute itimmediately in marble. Hadrian will be enchanted with this portraitof his beautiful and devoted favorite. You must admire it, everyconnoisseur must! I will pay for it, the only question is whether Ior the city should present it to Caesar. This matter your husband mustdecide."
Arsinoe was radiant with joy at these words, but she stepped modestlyinto the background as an official came in and handed Titianus adispatch that had just arrived.
The prefect read it; then turning to his friend and his wife, he said:
"Hadrian ascribes to Antinous the honors of a god."
"Fortunate Pollux!" exclaimed Plutarch. "He has executed the firststatue of the new divinity. I will present it to the city, and theyshall place it in the temple to Antinous of which we must lay the firststone before Caesar is back here again. Farewell, my noble friends!Greet your bridegroom from me, my child. His work belongs to me. Polluxwill be the first among his fellow-artists, and it has been my privilegeto discover this new star--the eighth artist whose merit I have detectedwhile he was still unknown. Your future brother-in-law too, Teuker,will turn out well. I am having a stone cut by him with a portrait ofAntinous. Once more farewell; I must go to the Council. We shall have todiscuss the subject of a temple to the new divinity. Move on you two!"
An hour after Plutarch had quitted the prefect's house Julia's chariotwas standing at the entrance of a lane, much too narrow to admit avehicle with horses, and which ended in a little plot on which stoodEuphorion's humble house. Julia's outrunners easily found out theresidence of the sculptor's parents, led the matron and Arsinoe to thespot, and showed them the door they should knock at.
"What a color you have, my little girl!" said Julia. "Well, I will notintrude on your meeting, but I should like to deliver you with my ownhand into those of your future mother. Go to that little house, Arctus,and beg dame Doris to step out here. Only say that some one wishes tospeak with her, but do not mention my name."
Arsinoe's heart beat so violently that she was incapable of saying aword of thanks to her kind protectress. "Step behind this palm-tree,"said the lady. Arsinoe obeyed; but she felt as though it was someoutside volition, and not her own, that guided her to her hiding-place.She heard nothing of the first words spoken by the Roman lady and Doris.She only saw the dear old face of her Pollux's mother, and in spite ofher reddened eyes and the wrinkles which trouble had furrowed in herface, she could not tire of looking at it. It reminded her of thehappiest days of her childhood, and she longed to rush forward and throwher arms round the neck of the kindly, good-hearted woman. Then sheheard Julia say: "I have brought her to you. She is just as sweet andas maidenly and lovely as she was the first time we saw her in thetheatre."
"Where is she? Where is she?" asked Doris in a trembling voice.
Julia pointed to the palm, and was about to call Arsinoe, but the girlcould no longer restrain her longing to fall on the neck of some onedear to her, for Pollux had come out of the door to see who had askedfor his mother, and to see him and to fly to his breast with a cry ofjoy had been one and the same act to Arsinoe.
Julia gazed at the couple with moistened eyes, and when, after many kindwords for old and young alike, she took leave of the happy group, shesaid:
"I will provide for your outfit my child, and this time I think you willwear it, not merely for one transient hour but through a long and happylife."
Joyful singing sounded out that evening from Euphorion's little home.Doris and her husband, and Pollux and Arsinoe, Diotima and Teuker,decked with garlands, reclined round the amphora which was wreathed withroses, drinking to pleasure and joy, to art and love, and to all thegifts of the present. The swe
et bride's long hair was once more plaitedwith handsome blue ribbons.
Three weeks after these events Hadrian was again in Alexandria. Hekept aloof from all the festivals instituted in honor of the new godAntinous, and smiled incredulously when he was told that a new star hadappeared in the sky, and that an oracle had declared it to be the soulof his lost favorite.
When Plutarch conducted the Emperor and his friends to see the BacchusAntinous, which Pollux had completed in the clay, Hadrian was deeplystruck and wished to know the name of the master who had executed thisnoble work of art. Not one of his companion's had the courage to speakthe name of Pollux in his presence; only Pontius ventured to comeforward for his young friend. He related to Hadrian the hapless artist'shistory and begged him to forgive him. The Emperor nodded his approval,and said:
"For the sake of this lost one he shall be forgiven."
Pollux was brought into his presence, and Hadrian, holding out his handsaid as he pressed the sculptor's:
"The Immortals have bereft me of his love and faithfulness, but your arthas preserved his beauty for me and for the world--"
Every city in the Empire vied in building temples and erecting statuesto the new god, and Pollux, Arsinoe's happy husband, was commissionedto execute statues and busts of Antinous for a hundred towns; but herefused most of the orders, and would send out no work as his own thathe had not executed himself on a new conception. His master, Papias,returned to Alexandria, but he was received there by his fellow-artistswith such insulting contempt, that in an evil hour he destroyed himself.Teuker lived to be the most famous gem-engraver of his time.
Soon after Selene's martyrdom dame Hannah quitted Besa; the office ofSuperior of the Deaconesses at Alexandria was intrusted to her, and sheexercised it with much blessing till an advanced age. Mary, the deformedgirl, remained behind in the Nile-port, which under Hadrian was extendedinto the magnificent city of Antmoe. There were there two graves fromwhich she could not bear to part.
Four years after Arsinoe's marriage with Pollux, Hadrian called theyoung sculptor to Rome; he was there to execute the statue of theEmperor in a quadriga. This work was intended to crown and finishhis mausoleum constructed by Pontius, and Pollux carried it out in soadmirable a manner, that when it was ended, Hadrian said to him with asmile:
"Now you have earned the right to pronounce sentence of death on theworks of other masters." Euphorion's son lived in honor and prosperityto see his children, the children of his faithful wife Arsinoe--whowas greatly admired by the Tiber-grow up to be worthy citizens. Theyremained heathen; but the Christian love which Eumenes had taughtPaulina's foster-daughter was never forgotten, and she kept a kindlyplace for it in her heart and in her household. A few months beforethe young couple left Alexandria, Doris had peacefully gone to her lastrest, and her husband died soon after her; the want of his faithfulcompanion was the complaint he succumbed to.
On the shores of the Tiber, Pontius was still the sculptor's friend.Balbilla and her husband gave their corrupt fellow-citizens the exampleof a worthy, faithful marriage on the old Roman pattern. The poetess'sbust had been completed by Pollux in Alexandria, and with all itstresses and little curls, it found favor in Balbilla's eyes.
Verus was to have enjoyed the title of Caesar even during Hadrian'slifetime, but after a long illness he died the first. Lucilla nursedhim with unfailing devotion and enjoyed the longed-for monopoly of hisattentions through a period of much suffering. It was on their son thatin later years the purple devolved.
The predictions of the prefect Titianus were fulfilled, for theEmperor's faults increased with years and the meaner side of his mindand nature came into sharper relief. Titianus and his wife led a retiredlife by lake Larius, far from the world, and both were baptized beforethey died. They never pined for the turmoil of a pleasure-seeking worldor its dazzling show, for they had learnt to cherish in their own heartsall that is fairest in life.
It was the slave Mastor who brought to Titianus the news of thesovereign's death. Hadrian had given him his freedom before he died andhad left him a handsome legacy.
The prefect gave him a piece of land to farm and continued in friendlyrelations with his Christian neighbor and his pretty daughter, who grewup among her father's co-religionists.
When Titianus had told his wife the melancholy news he added solemnly:
"A great sovereign is dead. The pettinesses which disfigured the manHadrian will be forgotten by posterity, for the ruler Hadrian was one ofthose men whom Fate sets in the places they belong to, and who, true totheir duty, struggle indefatigably to the end. With wise moderation hewas so far master of himself as to bridle his ambition and to defy theblame and prejudice of all the Romans. The hardest, and perhaps thewisest, resolution of his life was to abandon the provinces which itwould have exhausted the power of the Empire to retain. He travelledover every portion of his dominion within the limits he himself hadset to it, shrinking from neither frost nor heat, and he tried to be asthoroughly acquainted with every portion of it as if the Empire were asmall estate he had inherited. His duties as a sovereign forced him totravel, and his love of travel lightened the duty. He was possessed bya real passion to understand and learn everything. Even theIncomprehensible set no limits to his thirst for knowledge, but everstriving to see farther and to dig deeper than is possible to the mindof man, he wasted a great part of his mighty powers in trying to snatchaside the curtain which hides the destinies of the future. No one everworked at so many secondary occupations as he, and yet no former Emperorever kept his eye so unerringly fixed on the main task of his life,the consolidation and maintenance of the strength of the state and theimprovement and prosperity of its citizens."
ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
A well-to-do man always gets a higher price than a poor one Avoid all useless anxiety Dried merry-thought bone of a fowl Enjoy the present day Facts are differently reflected in different minds Happiness is only the threshold to misery Have not yet learned not to be astonished Have lived to feel such profound contempt for the world I must either rest or begin upon something new Idleness had long since grown to be the occupation of his life If one only knew who it is all for Ill-judgment to pronounce a thing impossible In order to find himself for once in good company--(Solitude) It was such a comfort once more to obey an order Love laughs at locksmiths More to the purpose to think of the future than of the past Never speaks a word too much or too little Philosophers who wrote of the vanity of writers So long as we do not think ourselves wretched, we are not so Temples would be empty if mortals had nothing left to wish for They keep an account in their heart and not in their head To know half is less endurable than to know nothing When a friend refuses to share in joys Who do all they are able and enjoy as much as they can get Wide world between the purpose and the deed Years are the foe of beauty
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