Der Kaiser. English

  CHAPTER VIII.

  Titianus had ordered his charioteer to drive at once to Lochias. Theroad led past the prefect's palace, his residence on the Bruchiom, andhe paused there; for the letter which lay hidden in the folds of histoga, contained news, which, within a few hours, might put him underthe necessity of not returning home till the following morning. Withoutallowing himself to be detained by the officials, subalterns, orlictors, who were awaiting his return to make communications, or toreceive his orders, he went straight through the ante-room and the largepublic rooms for men, to find his wife in the women's apartments whichlooked upon the garden. He met her at the door of her room, for she hadheard his step approaching and came out to receive him.

  "I was not mistaken," said the matron with sincere pleasure. "Howpleasant that you have been released so early to-day. I did not expectyou till supper was over."

  "I have come only to go again," replied Titianus, entering hiswife's room. "Have some bread brought to me and a cup of mixed wine;why--really! here stands all I want ready as if I had ordered it. Youare right, I was with Sabina a shorter time than usual; but she exertedherself in that short time to utter as many sour words as if we had beentalking for half a day. And in five minutes I must quit you again, tillwhen?--the gods alone know when I shall return. It is hard even to speakthe words, but all our trouble and care, and all poor Pontius' zeal andpains-taking labor are in vain."

  As he spoke the prefect threw himself on a couch; his wife handed himthe refreshment he had asked for, and said, as she passed her hand overhis grey hair:

  "Poor man! Has Hadrian then determined after all to inhabit theCaesareum?"

  "No. Leave us, Syra--you shall see directly. Please read me Caesar'sletter once more. Here it is." Julia unfolded the papyrus, which was ofelegant quality, and began:

  "Hadrian to his friend Titianus, the Governor of Egypt. The deepestsecrecy--Hadrian greets Titianus, as he has so often done for years atthe beginning of disagreeable business letters, and only with half hisheart. But to-morrow he hopes to greet the dear friend of his youth, hisprudent vicegerent, not merely with his whole soul, but with handand tongue. And now to be more explicit, as follows: I come to-morrowmorning, the fifteenth of December, towards evening, to Alexandria, withnone but Antinous, the slave Mastor, and my private secretary, Phlegon.We land at Lochias, in the little harbor, and you will know my ship bya large silver star at the prow. If night should fall before I arrivethere, three red lanterns at the end of the mast shall inform you of thefriend that is approaching. I have sent home the learned and witty menwhom you sent to meet me, in order to detain me, and gain time forthe restoration of the old nest in which I had a fancy to roost withMinerva's birds--which have not, I hope, all been driven out of it--inorder that Sabina and her following may not lack entertainment, nor thefamous gentlemen themselves be unnecessarily disturbed in their labors.I need them not. If perchance it was not you who sent them, I askyour pardon. An error in this matter would certainly involve somehumiliation, for it is easier to explain what has happened than toforesee what is to come. Or is the reverse the truth? I will indemnifythe learned men for their useless journey by disputing this questionwith them and their associates in the Museum. The rapid movementto which the philologer was prompted on my account will prolong hisexistence; he bristles with learning at the tip of every hair, and hesits still more than is good for him.

  "We shall arrive in modest disguise and will sleep at Lochias; you knowthat I have rested more than once on the bare earth, and, if needbe, can sleep as well on a mat as on a couch. My pillow follows at myheels--my big dog, which you know; and some little room, where I canmeditate undisturbed on my designs for next year, can no doubt be found.

  "I entreat you to keep my secret strictly. To none--man nor woman--andI beseech you as urgently as friend or Caesar ever besought a favor--letthe least suspicion of my arrival be known. Nor must the smallestpreparation betray whom it is you receive. I cannot command so dear afriend as Titianus, but I appeal to his heart to carry out my wishes.

  "I rejoice to see you again; what delight I shall find in the whirl ofconfusion that I hope to find at Lochias. You shall take me to see theartists, who are, no doubt, swarming in the old castle, as the architectClaudius Venator from Rome, who is to assist Pontius with his advice.But this Pontius, who carried out such fine works for Herodes Atticus,the rich Sophist, met me at his house, and will certainly recognizeme. Tell him, therefore, what I propose doing. He is a serious andtrustworthy man, not a chatterbox or scatter-brained simpleton who loseshis head. Thus you may take him into the secret, but not till my vesselis in sight. May all be well with you."

  "Well, what do you say to that?" asked Titianus, taking the letter fromhis wife's hand. "Is it not more than vexatious--our work was going onso splendidly."

  "But," said Julia thoughtfully and with a meaning smile. "Perhaps itmight not have been finished in time. As matters now stand it need notbe complete, and Hadrian will see the good intention all the same. Iam glad about the letter, for it takes a great responsibility off yourotherwise overloaded shoulders."

  "You always see the right side," cried the prefect. "It is well that Icame home, for I can await Caesar with a much lighter heart. Let me lockup the letter, and then farewell. This parting is for some hours fromyou, and from all peace for many days."

  Titianus gave her his hand. She held it firmly and said:

  "Before you go I must confess to you that I am very proud."

  "You have every right to be."

  "But you have not said a word to me about keeping silence."

  "Because you have kept other tests--still, to be sure, you are a woman,and a very handsome one besides."

  "An old grandmother, with grey hair!"

  "And still more upright and more charming than a thousand of the mostadmired younger beauties."

  "You are trying to convert my pride into vanity, in my old age."

  "No, no! I was only looking at you with an examining eye, as our talkled me to do, and I remembered that Sabina had lamented that handsomeJulia was not looking well. But where is there another woman of your agewith such a carriage, such unwrinkled features, so clear a brow, suchdeep kind eyes, such beautifully-polished arms--"

  "Be quiet," exclaimed his wife. "You make me blush."

  "And may I not be proud that a grandmother, who is a Roman, as my wifeis, can find it so easy to blush? You are quite different from otherwomen."

  "Because you are different from other men."

  "You are a flatterer; since all our children have left us, it is as ifwe were newly married again."

  "Ah! the apple of discord is removed."

  "It is always over what he loves best that man is most prompt to bejealous. But now, once more, farewell."

  Titianus kissed his wife's forehead and hurried towards the door; Juliacalled him back and said:

  "One thing at any rate we can do for Caesar. I send food every day downto the architect at Lochias, and to-day there shall be three times thequantity."

  "Good; do so."

  "Farewell, then."

  "And we shall meet again, when it shall please the gods and theEmperor."

  ........................

  When the prefect reached the appointed spot, no vessel with a silverstar was to be seen.

  The sun went down and no ship with three red lanterns was visible.

  The harbor-master, into whose house Titianus went, was told that heexpected a great architect from Rome, who was to assist Pontius with hiscounsel in the works at Lochias, and he thought it quite intelligiblethat the governor should do a strange artist the honor of coming to meethim; for the whole city was well aware of the incredible haste and thelavish outlay of means that were being given to the restoration of theancient palace of the Ptolemies as a residence for the Emperor.

  While he was waiting, Titianus remembered the young sculptor Pollux,whose acquaintance he had made, and his mother in the pretty littlegate-house. Well disposed t
owards them as he felt, he sent at once toold Doris, desiring her not to retire to rest early that evening, sincehe, the prefect, would be going late to Lochias.

  "Tell her, too, as from yourself and not from me," Titianus instructedthe messenger, "that I may very likely look in upon her. She may lightup her little room and keep it in order."

  No one at Lochias had the slightest suspicion of the honor which awaitedthe old palace.

  After Verus had quitted it with his wife and Balbilla, and when he hadagain been at work for about an hour the sculptor Pollux came out of hisnook, stretching himself, and called out to Pontius, who was standing ona scaffold:

  "I must either rest or begin upon something new. One cures me of fatigueas much as the other. Do you find it so?"

  "Yes, just as you do," replied the architect, as he continued to directthe work of the slave-masons, who were fixing a new Corinthian capitalin the place of an old one which had been broken.

  "Do not disturb yourself," Pollux cried up to him. "I only request youto tell my master Papias when he comes here with Gabinius, the dealer inantiquities, that he will find me at the rotunda that you inspectedwith me yesterday. I am going to put the head on to the Berenice; myapprentice must long since have completed his preparations; but therascal came into the world with two left-hands, and as he squints withone eye everything that is straight looks crooked to him, and--accordingto the law of optics--the oblique looks straight. At any rate, he drovethe peg which is to support the new head askew into the neck, and as nohistorian has recorded that Berenice ever had her neck on one side, likethe old color-grinder there, I must see to its being straight myself. Inabout half an hour, as I calculate, the worthy Queen will no longer beone of the headless women."

  "Where did you get the new head?" asked Pontius. "From the secretarchives of my memory," replied Pollux. "Have you seen it?"

  "Yes."

  "And do you like it?"

  "Very much."

  "Then it is worthy to live," sang the sculptor, and, as he quitted thehall, he waved his left-hand to the architect, and with his right-handstuck a pink, which he had picked in the morning, behind his ear.

  At the rotunda his pupil had done his business better than his mastercould have expected, but Pollux was by no means satisfied with his ownarrangements. His work, like several others standing on the same sideof the platform, turned its back on the steward's balcony, and the onlyreason why he had parted with the portrait of Selene's mother, of whichhe was so fond, was that his playfellow might gaze at the face whenevershe chose. He found, however, to his satisfaction, that the busts wereheld in their places on their tall pedestals only by their own weight,and he then resolved to alter the historical order of the portrait-headsby changing their places, and to let the famous Cleopatra turn her backupon the palace, so that his favorite bust might look towards it.

  In order to carry out this purpose then and there, he called some slavesup to help him in the alteration. This gave rise, more than once, to awarning cry, and the loud talking and ordering on this spot, for so manyyears left solitary and silent, attracted an inquirer, who, soon afterthe apprentice had begun his work, had shown herself on the balcony, butwho had soon retreated after casting a glance at the dirty lad, splashedfrom head to foot with plaster. This time, however, she remained towatch, following every movement of Pollux as he directed the slaves;though, all the time and whatever he was doing, he turned his back uponher.

  At last the portrait-head had found its right position, shrouded stillin a cloth to preserve it from the marks of workmen's hands. With a deepbreath the artist turned full on the steward's house, and immediately aclear merry voice called out:

  "What, tall Pollux! It really is tall Pollux; how glad I am!"

  With these words the girl on the balcony loudly clapped her hands; andas the sculptor hailed her in return, and shouted:

  "And you are little Arsinoe, eternal gods! What the little thing hascome to!" She stood on tip-toe to seem taller, nodded at him pleasantly,and laughed out: "I have not done growing yet; but as for you, you lookquite dignified with the beard on your chin, and your eagle's nose.Selene did not tell me till to-day that you were living down there withthe others."

  The artist's eyes were fixed on the girl, as if spellbound. There arepoetic natures in which the imagination immediately transmutes everynew thing that strikes the eyes or the intelligence, into a romance,or rapidly embodies it in verse; and Pollux, like many of his calling,could never set his eyes on a fine human form and face, withoutinstantly associating them with his art.

  "A Galatea--a Galatea without an equal!" thought he, as he stood withhis eyes fixed on Arsinoe's face and figure. "Just as if she had thisinstant risen from the sea--that form is just as fresh, and joyous, andhealthy; and her little curls wave back from her brow as if they werestill floating on the water; and now as she stoops, how full and supplein every movement. It is like a daughter of Nereus following the lineof the as the waves as they rise into crests and dip again into wateryvalleys. She is like Selene and her mother in the shape of her head andthe Greek cut of her face, but the elder sister is like the statue ofPrometheus before it had a soul, and Arsinoe is like the Master's workafter the celestial fire coursed through her veins."

  The artist had felt and thought all this out in a few seconds, but thegirl found her speechless admirer's silence too long, and exclaimedimpatiently:

  "You have not yet offered me any proper greeting. What are you doingdown there?"

  "Look here," he replied, lifting the cloth from the portrait, which wasa striking likeness.

  Arsinoe leaned far over the parapet of the balcony, shaded her eyes withher hand and was silent for more than a minute. Then she suddenly criedout loudly and exclaiming:

  "Mother--it is my mother!" She flew into the room behind her.

  "Now she will call her father and destroy all poor Selene's comfort,"thought Pollux, as he pushed the heavy marble bust on which his gypsumhead was fixed, into its right place.

  "Well, let him come. We are the masters here now, and Keraunus dare nottouch the Emperor's property." He crossed his arms and stood gazing atthe bust, muttering to himself:

  "Patchwork--miserable patchwork. We are cobbling up a robe for theEmperor out of mere rags; we are upholsterers and not artists. If itwere only for Hadrian, and not for Diotima and her children, not anotherfinger would I stir in the place."

  The path from the steward's residence led through some passages and upa few steps to the rotunda, on which the sculptor was standing, but inlittle more than a minute from Arsinoe's disappearance from the balconyshe was by his side. With a heightened color she pushed the sculptoraway from his work and put herself in the place where he had beenstanding, to be able to gaze at her leisure at the beloved features.Then she exclaimed again:

  "It is mother--mother!" and the bright tears ran over her cheeks,without restraint from the presence of the artist, or the laborers andslaves whom she had flown past on her way, and who stared at her with asmuch alarm as if she were possessed.

  Pollux did not disturb her. His heart was softened as he watched thetears running down the cheeks of this light-hearted child, and he couldnot help reflecting that goodness was indeed well rewarded when it couldwin such tender and enduring love as was cherished for the poor deadmother on the pedestal before him.

  After looking for some time at the sculptor's work Arsinoe grew calmer,and turning to Pollux she asked:

  "Did you make it?"

  "Yes," he replied, looking down.

  "And entirely from memory?"

  "To be sure."

  "Do you know what?"

  "Well."

  "This shows that the Sibyl at the festival of Adonis was right when shesang in the Jalemus that the gods did half the work of the artist."

  "Arsinoe!" cried Pollux, for her words made him feel as if a hot springwere seething in his heart, and he gratefully seized her hand; but shedrew it away, for her sister Selene had come out on the balcony and wascalling
her.

  It was for his elder playfellow and not for Arsinoe that Pollux had sethis work in this place, but, just now, her gaze fell like a disturbingchill on his excited mood.

  "There stands your mother's portrait," he called up to the balcony in anexplanatory tone, pointing to the bust.

  "I see it," she replied coldly. "I will look at it presently moreclosely. Come up Arsinoe, father wants to speak to you."

  Again Pollux stood alone.

  As Selene withdrew into the room, she gently shook her pale head, andsaid to herself:

  "'It was to be for me,' Pollux said; something for me, for once--andeven this pleasure is spoilt."