CHAPTER XV
THE FALSE BALANCE
Marsyas did not sleep the sleep of a man worn with exertion andexcitement. Instead he lay far into the night with his wide eyes fixedon the soft gloom above him. He had many diverse thoughts, none whollycontented, many most unhappy.
The instance of apostasy under the roof troubled him; not as apostasyshould trouble one of the faithful, but as an impending calamity. Hehad strange, terrifying, commingling pictures of Stephen's dark locksin the dust of the stoning-place, and the pretty disorder ofyellow-brown curls thrown over his arm. His purpose against Saul ofTarsus seemed to magnify in importance, by each succeeding momentousevent. He remembered Cypros' charge and bound himself to keep it,again and again through the dark troubled hours. It was a long way yetuntil he could triumph over the powerful Pharisee, and the stretches ofmisfortune that could ensue, in the time, were things he drove out ofhis thoughts.
When at last he fell asleep, he dreamed that he stood on Olivet andwatched Saul and Lydia seeking for him in the trampled space withoutHanaleel, while a crucifix, instead of the moon, arose in the east.
The old Essenic habit was strong in Marsyas. In spite of his longwakefulness, the dark red color in the east which announced the sunriseyet an hour to come was as a call in his ear.
He arose while yet the night was heavy in the halls of the alabarch'shouse and the whisper of the sand lifting before the sea-wind was theonly sound in the Alexandrian streets.
The stairway was intensely quiet and he hesitated to descend. But atthe end of the upper corridor a slight dilution in the gloom showed hima loft let into the ceiling. He went that way and came upon anotherstairway leading up and out into the open. He mounted it and foundhimself on the roof of the house.
At the rear was a double row of columns, roofed, and hung with mattingwhich inclosed an airy pavilion where the dwellers of the alabarch'shouse could flee from the heat closer the earth. It was furnished withantique Egyptian furniture, taborets of acacia, seated with pigskin, adiphros and divan, built of spongy palm-wood, but seasoned and hardenedby great age, and grotesquely carved by old hands, dead a century.
The young man entered and, seating himself, awaited the day and thearousing of the alabarch's household.
The Jewish housetops toward the east made an angular sea, broken byparapets and summer-houses in relief against the red sky, and thepavements in gloom. Strips of darker vapor meandering among themshowed the course of passages leading with many detours into the greatopen, where was builded the Synagogue of Alexandria. It was oftremendous dimensions, yet so majestically proportioned as to attaingrace, that most difficult thing to reconcile with great size. Thetype of architecture was Egypto-Grecian,--repose and refinement,antiquity and civilization conjoined to make a sanctuary that was acitadel. Here, the forty thousand Jews of Alexandria could gather, norone rub shoulder against his neighbor. Marsyas looked with no littlepride at the triumph of the God of Israel in this stronghold ofpaganism. What a reproach it must be to them that had departed fromthe rigor of the Law!
He became conscious of the little cross. He drew it forth from itshiding-place and looked at it. It was made of red cedar, slightlyelaborated, and the cord passed through a small copper eyelet at thehead. To his unfamiliar eye, it was a dread image, at once asuggestion of suffering and retributive justice. He had not seen onesince his last talk with Stephen.
The acute wrench the reflection gave him now incorporated a fear forLydia. Saul of Tarsus should not lay her fair head low! He braced hisfingers against the head and foot of the emblem to break it, whensuddenly a bewildering reluctance seized his hand. At the moment ofdestruction, his hand was stayed. Stephen had loved it and died forits sake, and Lydia--
His resolution dissolved; slowly and unreadily he put the crucifix backin his bosom, over his heart.
At that moment, a little figure, on the brink of the housetop, wasprojected against the glowing sky. It was firmly knit and outlinedlike an infant love. The apparition brought, besides startlement, aprescient significance that made his heart beat. Synagogue andAlexandria dropped out of sight. He saw only the rosy heavens with abeautiful girl marked on them.
He arose, and the new-comer turned toward him and approached. AndMarsyas watching her, in a breathless, half-guilty moment, told himselfthat never before had the fall of a woman's foot been a caress to theearth.
He saw that she carried over her arm a many-folded length of silk, inthe half-dusk, like a silvery mist, very sheeny and firm. Here andthere he discovered flame-colored streaks in it. One of themorning-touched vapors in the east, pulled down and folded over thegirl's arm, would have looked like it. At the threshold of thesummer-house, she let the arm fall which carried it, dropped the manyfolds and with a sudden uplift and deft circle of her hand, partlycocooned herself in the silken vapor. Her eyes, lifted in themovement, fell on Marsyas. With a little start, she unfurled thewrapping and doubled it over her arm.
"I pray thy pardon," he said, with a sincerity beyond the formality ofhis words. "I am an intruder. But--the Essenes do not keep their bedslong."
"Neither do all Alexandrians," she said, recovering herself. "Thou artwelcome, for I would speak with thee."
She put up one of the mattings by a pull at a cord, and sat down on ataboret. She laid the silk across her lap and folded her hands upon it.
"I pray thee, be seated. I have not said all that I would sayconcerning last night. Art thou well--unhurt?"
The morning lay faintly on her face and he saw that she was paler andsadder of eye than was natural for one so young and so round of cheek.He was touched, and his answer was a tender surprise to him.
"Thou seest me," he said, making a motion with his hands, "but thou--Iwould there were less of last night in thy face!"
"I am well," she said, as her eyes fell. "For that I give thee thanks,and for the security of my fame among my friends--and--the sacrificethou madest to preserve it!"
She meant his evasions that had kept the true story of her rescuesecret. He was glad she touched so readily upon the subject. It gavehim opportunity to relieve his soul of part of its burden.
"I was glad," he assured her. "Now, that thou art still safe, I praythee, lady, preserve thyself. None in all the world is so able tounderstand thy peril as I!"
She looked at him, remembering that Agrippa had told them that he hadbeen accused of apostasy.
"Are--are these--thy people?" she asked in a whisper.
"No; but dost thou remember why I went with such haste to Nazareth?" heasked.
"To save a life, thou saidst."
"Even so, I failed."
She caught her breath and her eyes grew large with sympathy.
"I failed," he continued. "I went to save a friend who had gone astrayafter the Nazarene Prophet. But they stoned him before mine eyes."
Her lips moved with a compassionate word, more plainly expressed in allher atmosphere.
"They cast me out of Judea," he went on, "because I was his friend.Wherefore I have tasted the death and have died not; I have sufferedfor their sin, yet sinned not!"
He had never told more of his story than that, but her eyes, filledwith interest, fixed upon him, urged him to go on. Believing that hemight deliver her if he told more, he proceeded, but the sense ofrelief, the lifting of his load that followed upon the course of hisnarrative were results that he had not expected in confiding to thisunderstanding woman. At first he felt a little of the embarrassmentthat attends the unfolding of a personal history, but ere long thefair-brown eyes urged him, with their sympathy, and consoled him withtheir comprehension. He left the outline and plunged into detail, andwhen he had made an end, the glory of the Egyptian sunshine wasflooding Alexandria.
At the end of the story, Lydia's eyes fell slowly, and the interestthat had enlivened her face relaxed into pensiveness. She wasoppressed and sorrowful, almost ready to be directed by this man ofmany sorrows.
But he leaned
toward her.
"Henceforth, therefore," he said, "I am not a man of peace, but oneburdened with rancor and vengeful intent. I go not into En-Gadi, butinto the evil world to use the world's evil to work evil. I amdespoiled and blighted and without hope. Is that the inheritance whichthou wouldst leave to them who love thee?"
She drew away from him, half alarmed.
"I--I am not a Nazarene," she faltered.
"Do not go to them, then!" he urged eagerly. "Do not listen to theirteachings; for whosoever listens must die!"
"I went yesterday for a different cause," she said finally, "butbefore, of interest."
"But thou art a faithful daughter of Abraham; be not led of any cause.Remember yesterday!"
"Yesterday?" she repeated quietly. "Why yesterday? Only the faith ofthe oppressed was different. We of Israel's faith in Alexandria knowmany of yesterday's like, and worse!"
"Suffer, then, the sufferings of the righteous! Be not cut off for afolly!"
She fell silent again, and smoothed the silk on her lap.
"Justin Classicus told me of them," she began finally, "and their verydifference from other philosophies, new or old, the simple history oftheir Prophet attracted me. I sought them out, and learned that anEgyptian merchant who traded in Syria had passed through Jerusalem atthe time of the Nazarene Prophet's sojourn in the city, and had becomeconverted to His teaching. He returned to Egypt and planted the seedof the sect in Rhacotis. And of power and attraction, he gathered untohim men of his like. Finally he carried his teaching into thelecture-rooms of the Library and all Alexandria heard of the Nazarenes.Reduced in its frenzy, his faith had a burning and unconsumed heart toit. Many searched and many accepted it. I went once--with myhandmaiden--and heard his preaching. And I saw in it a remedy for thesick world."
Marsyas looked away toward the Synagogue, glittering purely against thedark blue waters of the bay. He felt a recurrence of the old chillthat possessed him, when he had failed to shake Stephen in hisapostasy. But she went on.
"Since there is but one God there can be but one religion. I do notexpect a new godhead, but a new interpretation of the ancient one.Bethink thee; all the world was not Rome, in the days of Abraham orMoses or Solomon or David. This is the hour of the supremacy of onewill, one race. Man does not fear God so much when he does not respecthis neighbor at all. Therefore, Rome, being autocrat of the earth, isan atheist. She hath set up her mace and called it God. There is nohope against Rome unless we hurl another Rome against it. That we cannot do, for there is only one world. Sheol will not prevail againstRome, for Rome is Sheol. Only Heaven is left and Heaven does notproceed against nations with an army and banners. There is only oneuntried power in the list of forces, and the Nazarene hath it in Hiscreed."
Marsyas knew what it was; Stephen was full of it.
"It is a difficult vision to summon," she continued, "but it may fallthat a dove and not an eagle shall sit on the standards of Rome andthat the dominion of God and not of Caesar shall prevail on theCapitoline Hill."
She paused, and Marsyas, waiting until he might speak, put out his handto her.
"I heard another building such fair structures of his fancy and hishopes," he said, with pain on his face. "Even though they wererealized to-morrow, he can not see it; I, being broken of heart, couldnot rejoice. And Lydia--for they call thee by that name--I can not seeanother in the dust of the stoning-place!"
Her face flushed and paled and he let his hand drop on hers, by way ofapology.
"Then, thou wilt give over the companionship of these people?" hepersisted gently. She hesitated, and finally said in a halting voice:
"I--went--I knew that--by thy leave, sir, thou camest to them as aperil. Thou wast expected of the authorities, being doubly chargedwith apostasy and an offense against Rome, and they were permitted togo thither, by the legate, even by this household, in search of thee,when I and all under this roof knew that thou wast not among them.I--went to give them--warning--"
"Then, the call hath been obeyed," he said kindly. "Shut thy hearingagainst another. I thank thee, for the Nazarenes. Thou art good andwise and most generous--too rare a woman for Israel to surrender."
She arose, for sounds were coming up the well of the stair, which toldof the awakening of the alabarch's household. She wrapped the silk ina closer roll and let the folds of her full habit fall over it. Aftera little hesitation, she extended her hand to him, and he took it.
Under its touch, he felt that his hour of mastery had passed. Thegentle, thankful pressure had put him under her command.
When she disappeared into the well of the stairs, Marsyas, glancingabout him, saw on the housetop next to him Justin Classicus. Thephilosopher was choicely clad in a synthesis to cover him completelyfrom the chill of the morning air, while yet the warmth of his bath wasupon him. His locks were anointed, his fillet in place. Even inundress, he was elegant. He rested in a cathedra, and contemplated hisneighbor as distantly as he had the night before.
Not until after he had broken his fast with the alabarch and hisdaughter and returned again to the housetop did he see any other of themagistrate's guests. Junia's litter brought up at the alabarch'sporch, and presently Agrippa came up on the housetop.
"How now?" he exclaimed, seeing Marsyas. "Is it the air or the senseof superiority over the sluggard that invites thee up at unsunnedhours?"
"Both," Marsyas replied, giving up the diphros to the prince, "and thefurther urging of an old unsettled grudge. My lord, when dost thouproceed to Rome?"
"Shortly; after the Feast of Flora, which is to be celebrated soon."
"Nay; I pray thee, let it be directly," Marsyas urged; "for mybitterness unspent bids fair to rise in my throat and choke me!"
"_Proh pudor_! Cherishing a pulseless rancor with all fervor, whenthou art here, in arm's reach and in high favor with that which shouldmake back to thee all thou hast ever lost in the world! Oh, what aplacid vegetable of an Essene thou art,--in all save hate!"
"I am to go to Rome with thee, my lord."
"Of a surety! My wife sees in thee a kind of talisman which willinsure me favor with emperors and usurers, ward off the influence ofbeautiful women and give me success at dice!"
Marsyas glanced away from Agrippa and his face settled intouncompromising lines. Agrippa continued.
"Nay, thou goest to see that I make no misstep toward getting akingdom. Welcome! Be thou hawk-eyed vigilance itself. But mypleasure might be more perfect did I know that thine and our lady'sdetermination to crown me were less selfish!"
"Thou shalt not complain of more than selfishness in me," Marsyasanswered calmly. "But by my dearest hope, thou shalt live a differentlife than that which hath ruined thee of late. I know that thou canstwin a kingdom by a word; but thou shalt not lose it by a smile. For,by the Lord God that made us, thou shalt not fail!"
Agrippa turned half angrily upon the young Essene, but the imperfectlyformulated retort died on his lips. He met in the resolute eyes fixedupon him command and mastery. Words could not have delivered such acertainty of control. In that moment of silent contemplation thecontest for future supremacy was decided. Agrippa frowned, looked awayand smiled foolishly.
"Perpol! Did I ever think to lose patience with a man for swearing tomake me a king? But mend thy manner, Marsyas. Thou'lt never pleasethe ladies if thou goest wooing with this rattle and clang ofsiege-engines!"
Junia appeared on the housetop. She came with lagging steps and sankupon the divan, gazing with sleepy eyes at Marsyas.
"I emancipated myself," she said, "from the study of new stitches, theneighbor's dress and the fashion in perfumes. A pest on your rustichabit of early rising! Here we are aroused in the unlovely hours ofthe raw dawn to achieve business, ere the sun bakes us into stupidityat midday!"
"A needless sacrifice to these Egyptians," Agrippa declared. "They areall salamanders. I saw a serving-woman in this house pick up a flameon her bare palm and carry it off
as one would bear a vase."
"Vasti? Nay, but she comes from India; fled from servitude to theBrahmin priesthood to take service with the man who had pitied heronce."
"The alabarch?"
"Even so. He bought the gold and onyx plates that he put on the Templegates, in India, where he saw her and pitied her. So, she fled herowner and sought the world over till she found the alabarch to enslaveherself anew."
"So! Small wonder, then, she is annealed like an amphora. Yet I hadbelieved she was a bayadere."
"A bayadere?" Junia repeated.
"A Brahmin dancer, having the peculiarities of an Egyptian almah, aGreek hetaera, and a Pythian priestess, all fused in one. But now thatshe hath repented, she is rigidly upright and a relentless pursuer ofevil-doers."
"Alas!" sighed Junia, still watching Marsyas, "is it not enough to growold without having to become virtuous?"
Agrippa lifted his eyes to her face, and the look was sufficientcomment. But Marsyas had been plunged in his own thoughts and did nothear.
"What is the Feast of Flora?" he asked.
The Roman woman smiled and answered.
"A popular expression of the world's joy over the summer. That was itsoriginal motive, but it has been conventionalized into a feast formallycelebrating the reign of Flora. It was pastoral, but the poor citieswalled away from the wheat and the pastures adopted it, in very hungerfor the feel of the earth. It falls in the spring under therevivifying influence of awakening life and the loosed spirit of thepopulace grows boisterous. We become a city of rustics and hoidens.Pleasure is the purpose and love the largess of the occasion."
Agrippa smiled absently. These two remarks of diverse character weretentative. She was sounding Marsyas' nature.
"I shall not sail till it is done," Agrippa declared.
"A rare diversion to tempt a man from his ambitions," the young Esseneretorted quickly. Junia had made her sounding. She persisted in herlatter role.
"It is," she averred. "Flora is elected among the beautiful girls ofthe theaters; she typifies universal love; she runs, leaving a trail ofyellow roses behind her, which lead the multitude on to the delight shemeans to take for herself--and that is all. It is merely a prettyfeast, but the world is made of many well-meaning though blunderingnatures; and the revel does not always reach the high mark ofrefinement at its highest."
Agrippa's eyes on the Roman woman expressed intensest amusement andadmiration, though they lost nothing of their cool self-possession.
"My lord," Marsyas observed coldly, "there are as choice evils in Rome."
Junia laughed.
"Evil! Tut, tut! How monstrous serious the little world takes itself!How great is its problems, how towering its philosophies, how bad itsbadness! See us wrinkle our little old brows and smile agedly over thecreature impulses of children and forget that the gods sit on the brinkof Olympus and smile at us. How we deplore the Feast of Flora--and outupon us! None--save perchance thyself, good sir, and thy rigidorder--but goes reveling after pleasure and chooses a love or casts astone at an offender--and soberly calls it a crisis or a principle!Philosophy! Discovering the obvious! Badness! Only nature, more orless emphatic! All a matter of meat and drink, shelter and apparel andthe recreation of ourselves! Everything else is merely an attribute ofthe simple essentials. Is it not so, good sir?"
Marsyas shook his head. For the first time in his life he had heardthe world forgiven and the sound of it was good. He could not helpremembering Lydia's words, in contrast. But he was not convinced.
"It is not from the place of the gods that we feel, do and believe," hesaid. "The child's difficulties are heavy to it; it can not imaginethem to be greater. So if thy reasoning hold, lady, perhaps the higherGod smiles at the rage of Jove and the threats of Mars and the lovesand pains of Venus. But Jove and Mars and Venus do not smile at them;nor does the child at his fallen sand-house or his ruined bauble. Itis therefore a serious world for worldlings."
Junia lifted her white arms, and, dropping her head back between themagainst the divan, smiled up at the roof of the pavilion.
"I thought thee to be large and far-seeing," she said. "But go followFlora, and thou shall either be driven mad with astonishment, orpersuaded to look upon the world henceforward with mine eyes!"