CHAPTER XIV.
At noon of the following day the senator went to the women's room, andwhile he was still on the threshold, he asked his wife--who was busy atthe loom:
"Where is Polykarp? I did not find him with Antonius, who is working atthe placing of the altar, and I thought I might find him here."
"After going to the church," said Dorothea, "he went up the mountain. Godown to the workshops, Marthana, and see if your brother has come back."
Her daughter obeyed quickly and gladly, for her brother was to her thedearest, and seemed to her to be the best, of men. As soon as the pairwere alone together Petrus said, while he held out his hand to his wifewith genial affection, "Well, mother--shake hands." Dorothea paused foran instant, looking him in the face, as if to ask him, "Does your prideat last allow you to cease doing me an injustice?" It was a reproach,but in truth not a severe one, or her lips would hardly have trembled sotenderly, as she said.
"You cannot be angry with me any longer, and it is well that all shouldonce more be as it ought."
All certainly had not been "as it ought," for since the husband and wifehad met in Polykarp's work-room, they had behaved to each other as ifthey were strangers. In their bedroom, on the way to church, andat breakfast, they had spoken to each no more than was absolutelynecessary, or than was requisite in order to conceal their differencefrom the servants and children. Up to this time, an understanding hadalways subsisted between them that had never taken form in words, andyet that had scarcely in a single case been infringed, that neithershould ever praise one of their children for anything that the otherthought blameworthy, and vice versa.
But in this night, her husband had followed up her severest condemnationby passionately embracing the wrong-doer. Never had she been so stern inany circumstances, while on the other hand her husband, so long as shecould remember, had never been so softhearted and tender to his son, andyet she had controlled herself so far, as not to contradict Petrus inPolykarp's presence, and to leave the work-room in silence with herhusband.
"When we are once alone together in the bedroom," thought she, "I willrepresent to him his error as I ought, and he will have to answer forhimself."
But she did not carry out this purpose, for she felt that something mustbe passing in her husband's mind that she did not understand; otherwisehow could his grave eyes shine so mildly and kindly, and his stern lipssmile so affectionately after all that had occurred when he, lamp inhand, had mounted the narrow stair.
He had often told her that she could read his soul like an open book,but she did not conceal from herself that there were certain sides ofthat complex structure whose meaning she was incapable of comprehending.And strange to say, she ever and again came upon these incomprehensiblephases of his soul, when the images of the gods, and the idolatroustemples of the heathen, or when their sons' enterprises and work werethe matters in hand. And yet Petrus was the son of a pious Christian;but his grandfather had been a Greek heathen, and hence perhaps acertain something wrought in his blood which tormented her, becauseshe could not reconcile it with Agapitus' doctrine, but which shenevertheless dared not attempt to oppose because her taciturn husbandnever spoke out with so much cheerfulness and frankness as when hemight talk of these things with his sons and their friends, who oftenaccompanied them to the oasis. Certainly, it could be nothing sinfulthat at this particular moment seemed to light up her husband's face,and restore his youth.
"They just are men," said she to herself, "and in many things theyhave the advantage of us women. The old man looks as he did on hiswedding-day! Polykarp is the very image of him, as every one says, andnow, looking at the father, and recalling to my mind how the boy lookedwhen he told me how he could not refrain from making Sirona's portrait,I must say that I never saw such a likeness in the whole course of mylife."
He bid her a friendly good night, and extinguished the lamp. She wouldwillingly have said a loving word to him, for his contented expressiontouched and comforted her, but that would just then have been too muchafter what she had gone through in her son's workroom. In formeryears it had happened pretty often that, when one of them had causeddissatisfaction to the other, and there had been some quarrel betweenthem, they had gone to rest unreconciled, but the older they grew themore rarely did this occur, and it was now a long time since any shadowhad fallen on the perfect serenity of their married life.
Three years ago, on the occasion of the marriage of their eldest son,they had been standing together, looking up at the starry sky,when Petrus had come close up to her, and had said, "How calmly andpeacefully the wanderers up there follow their roads without jostling ortouching one another! As I walked home alone from the quarries by theirfriendly light, I thought of many things. Perhaps there was once a timewhen the stars rushed wildly about in confusion, crossing each other'spath, while many a star flew in pieces at the impact. Then the Lordcreated man, and love came into the world and filled the heavens and theearth, and he commanded the stars to be our light by night; then eachbegan to respect the path of the other, and the stars more rarely cameinto collision till even the smallest and swiftest kept to its own pathand its own period, and the shining host above grew to be as harmoniousas it is numberless. Love and a common purpose worked this marvel, forhe who loves another, will do him no injury, and he who is bound toperfect a work with the help of another, will not hinder nor delay him.We two have long since found the right road, and if at any time one ofus is inclined to cross the path of the other, we are held back by loveand by our common duty, namely to shed a pure light on the path of ourchildren."
Dorothea had never forgotten these words, and they came into her mindnow again when Petrus held out his hand to her so warmly; as she laidhers in it, she said:
"For the sake of dear peace, well and good--but one thing I cannot leaveunsaid. Soft-hearted weakness is not usually your defect, but you willutterly spoil Polykarp."
"Leave him, let us leave him as he is," cried Petrus, kissing his wife'sbrow. "It is strange how we have exchanged parts! Yesterday you wereexhorting me to mildness towards the lad, and to-day--"
"To-day I am severer than you," interrupted Dorothea. "Who, indeed,could guess that an old graybeard would derogate from the duties of hisoffice as father and as judge for the sake of a woman's smiling face inclay--as Esau sold his birthright for a mess of pottage?"
"And to whom would it occur," asked Petrus, taking up his wife's tone,"that so tender a mother as you would condemn her favorite son, becausehe labored to earn peace for his soul by a deed--by a work for which hismaster might envy him?"
"I have indeed observed," interrupted Dorothea, "that Sirona's imagehas bewitched you, and you speak as if the boy had achieved some greatmiracle. I do not know much about modelling and sculpture, and I willnot contradict you, but if the fair-haired creature's face were lesspretty, and if Polykarp had not executed any thing remarkable, would ithave made the smallest difference in what he has done and felt wrong?Certainly not. But that is just like men, they care only for success."
"And with perfect justice," answered Petrus, "if the success isattained, not in mere child's play, but by a severe struggle. 'To him,that hath, shall more be given,' says the scripture, and he who hasa soul more richly graced than others have--he who is helped by goodspirits--he shall be forgiven many things that even a mild judge wouldbe unwilling to pardon in a man of poor gifts, who torments and exertshimself and yet brings nothing to perfection. Be kind to the boy again.Do you know what prospect lies before you through him? You yourself inyour life have done much good, and spoken much wisdom, and I, and thechildren, and the people in this place, will never forget it all. ButI can promise you the gratitude of the best and noblest who now liveor who will live in centuries to come--for that you are the mother ofPolykarp!"
"And people say," cried Dorothea, "that every mother has four eyes forher children's merits. If that is true, then fathers no doubt have ten,and you as many as Argus, of whom the heathen legend speaks--But therecomes Po
lykarp."
Petrus went forward to meet his son, and gave him his hand, but in quitea different manner to what he had formerly shown; at least it seemed toDorothea that her husband received the youth, no longer as his fatherand master, but as a friend greets a friend who is his equal inprivileges and judgment. When Polykarp turned to greet her also shecolored all over, for the thought flashed through her mind that her son,when he thought of the past night, must regard her as unjust or foolish;but she soon recovered her own calm equanimity, for Polykarp was thesame as ever, and she read in his eyes that he felt towards her the sameas yesterday and as ever.
"Love," thought she, "is not extinguished by injustice, as fire is bywater. It blazes up brighter or less bright, no doubt, according to theway the wind blows, but it cannot be wholly smothered--least of all bydeath."
Polykarp had been up the mountain, and Dorothea was quite satisfiedwhen he related what had led him thither. He had long since planned theexecution of a statue of Moses, and when his father had left him, hecould not get the tall and dignified figure of the old man out of hismind. He felt that he had found the right model for his work. He must,he would forget--and he knew, that he could only succeed if he founda task which might promise to give some new occupation to his bereavedsoul. Still, he had seen the form of the mighty man of God which heproposed to model, only in vague outline before his mind's eye, and hehad been prompted to go to a spot whither many pilgrims resorted, andwhich was known as the Place of Communion, because it was there that theLord had spoken to Moses. There Polykarp had spent some time, for there,if anywhere--there, where the Law-giver himself had stood, must he findright inspiration.
"And you have accomplished your end?" asked his father.
Polykarp shook his head.
"If you go often enough to the sacred spot, it will come to you," saidDorothea. "The beginning is always the chief difficulty; only begin atonce to model your father's head."
"I have already begun it," replied Polykarp, "but I am still tired fromlast night."
"You look pale, and have dark lines under your eyes," said Dorotheaanxiously. "Go up stairs and he down to rest. I will follow you andbring you a beaker of old wine."
"That will not hurt him," said Petrus, thinking as he spoke--"A draughtof Lethe would serve him even better."
When, an hour later, the senator sought his son in his work-room, hefound him sleeping, and the wine stood untouched on the table. Petrussoftly laid his hand on his son's forehead and found it cool and freefrom fever. Then he went quietly up to the portrait of Sirona, raisedthe cloth with which it was covered, and stood before it a long timesunk in thought. At last he drew back, covered it up again, and examinedthe models which stood on a shelf fastened to the wall.
A small female figure particularly fixed his attention, and he wastaking it admiringly in his band when Polykarp awoke.
"That is the image of the goddess of fate--that is a Tyche," saidPetrus.
"Do not be angry with me, father," entreated Polykarp. "You know, thefigure of a Tyche is to stand in the hand of the statue of the Caesarthat is intended for the new city of Constantine, and so I have tried torepresent the goddess. The drapery and pose of the arms, I think, havesucceeded, but I failed in the head." Petrus, who had listened tohim with attention, glanced involuntarily at the head of Sirona, andPolykarp followed his eyes surprised and almost startled.
The father and son had understood each other, and Polykarp said, "I hadalready thought of that."
Then he sighed bitterly, and said to himself, "Yes and verily, she isthe goddess of my fate." But he dared not utter this aloud.
But Petrus had heard him sigh, and said, "Let that pass. This headsmiles with sweet fascination, and the countenance of the goddess thatrules the actions even of the immortals, should be stern and grave."
Polykarp could contain himself no longer.
"Yes, father," he exclaimed. "Fate is terrible--and yet I will representthe goddess with a smiling mouth, for that which is most terrible in heris, that she rules not by stern laws, but smiles while she makes us hersport."