Die Schwestern. English

  CHAPTER XII.

  While, in the vast peristyle, many a cup was still being emptied, andthe carousers were growing merrier and noisier--while Cleopatrawas abusing the maids and ladies who were undressing her for theirclumsiness and unreadiness, because every touch hurt her, and everypin taken out of her dress pricked her--the Roman and his friend Lysiaswalked up and down in their tent in violent agitation.

  "Speak lower," said the Greek, "for the very griffins woven intothe tissue of these thin walls seem to me to be lying in wait, andlistening.

  "I certainly was not mistaken. When I came to fetch the gems I saw alight gleaming in the doorway as I approached it; but the intruder musthave been warned, for just as I got up to the lantern in front ofthe servants' tent, it disappeared, and the torch which usually burnsoutside our tent had not been lighted at all; but a beam of light fellon the road, and a man's figure slipped across in a black robe sprinkledwith gold ornaments which I saw glitter as the pale light of the lanternfell upon them--just as a slimy, black newt glides through a pool. Ihave good eyes as you know, and I will give one of them at this moment,if I am mistaken, and if the cat that stole into our tent was notEulaeus."

  "And why did you not have him caught?" asked Publius, provoked.

  "Because our tent was pitch-dark," replied Lysias, "and that stoutvillain is as slippery as a badger with the dogs at his heels, Owls,bats and such vermin which seek their prey by night are all hideous tome, and this Eulaeus, who grins like a hyaena when he laughs--"

  "This Eulaeus," said Publius, interrupting his friend, "shall learn toknow me, and know too by experience that a man comes to no good, whopicks a quarrel with my father's son."

  "But, in the first instance, you treated him with disdain anddiscourtesy," said Lysias, "and that was not wise."

  "Wise, and wise, and wise!" the Roman broke out. "He is a scoundrel. Itmakes no difference to me so long as he keeps out of my way; but when,as has been the case for several days now, he constantly sticks close tome to spy upon me, and treats me as if he were my equal, I will showhim that he is mistaken. He has no reason to complain of my want offrankness; he knows my opinion of him, and that I am quite inclined togive him a thrashing. If I wanted to meet his cunning with cunning Ishould get the worst of it, for he is far superior to me in intrigue. Ishall fare better with him by my own unconcealed mode of fighting, whichis new to him and puzzles him; besides it is better suited to my ownnature, and more consonant to me than any other. He is not only sly, butis keen-witted, and he has at once connected the complaint which I havethreatened to bring against him with the manuscript which Serapion, therecluse, gave me in his presence. There it lies--only look.

  "Now, being not merely crafty, but a daring rascal too--two qualitieswhich generally contradict each other, for no one who is really prudentlives in disobedience to the laws--he has secretly untied the stringswhich fastened it. But, you see, he had not time enough to tie theroll up again! He has read it all or in part, and I wish him joy ofthe picture of himself he will have found painted there. The anchoritewields a powerful pen, and paints with a firm outline and stronglymarked coloring. If he has read the roll to the end it will spare me thetrouble of explaining to him what I purpose to charge him with; ifyou disturbed him too soon I shall have to be more explicit in myaccusation. Be that as it may, it is all the same to me."

  "Nay, certainly not," cried Lysias, "for in the first case Eulaeus willhave time to meditate his lies, and bribe witnesses for his defence. Ifany one entrusted me with such important papers--and if it had not beenyou who neglected to do it--I would carefully seal or lock them up.Where have you put the despatch from the Senate which the messengerbrought you just now?"

  "That is locked up in this casket," replied Publius, moving his hand topress it more closely over his robe, under which he had carefully hiddenit.

  "May I not know what it contain?" asked the Corinthian.

  "No, there is not time for that now, for we must first, and at once,consider what can be done to repair the last mischief which you havedone. Is it not a disgraceful thing that you should betray the sweetcreature whose childlike embarrassment charmed us this morning--of whomyou yourself said, as we came home, that she reminded you of your lovelysister--that you should betray her, I say, into the power of the wildestof all the profligates I ever met--to this monster, whose pleasures arethe unspeakable, whose boast is vice? What has Euergetes--"

  "By great Poseidon!" cried Lysias, eagerly interrupting his friend. "Inever once thought of this second Alcibiades when I mentioned her. Whatcan the manager of a performance do, but all in his power to secure theapplause of the audience? and, by my honor! it was for my own sake thatI wanted to bring Irene into the palace--I am mad with love for her--shehas undone me."

  "Aye! like Callista, and Phryne, and the flute-player Stephanion,"interrupted the Roman, shrugging his shoulders.

  "How should it be different?" asked the Corinthian, looking at hisfriend in astonishment. "Eros has many arrows in his quiver; onestrikes deeply, another less deeply; and I believe that the wound Ihave received to-day will ache for many a week if I have to give upthis child, who is even more charming than the much-admired Hebe on ourcistern."

  "I advise you however to accustom yourself to the idea, and the soonerthe better," said Publius gravely, as he set himself with his armscrossed, directly in front of the Greek. "What would you feel inclinedto do to me if I took a fancy to lure your pretty sister--whom Irene, Irepeat it, is said to resemble--to tempt her with base cunning from yourparents' house?"

  "I protest against any such comparison," cried the Corinthian verypositively, and more genuinely exasperated than the Roman had ever seenhim.

  "You are angry without cause," replied Publius calmly and gravely. "Yoursister is a charming girl, the ornament of your illustrious house, andyet I dare compare the humble Irene--"

  "With her! do you mean to say?" Lysias shouted again. "That is a poorreturn for the hospitality which was shown to you by my parents and ofwhich you formally sang the praises. I am a good-natured fellow andwill submit to more from you than from any other man--I know not why,myself;--but in a matter like this I do not understand a joke! My sisteris the only daughter of the noblest and richest house in Corinth andhas many suitors. She is in no respect inferior to the child of your ownparents, and I should like to know what you would say if I made sobold as to compare the proud Lucretia with this poor little thing, whocarries water like a serving-maid."

  "Do so, by all means!" interrupted Publius coolly, "I do not take yourrage amiss, for you do not know who these two sisters are, in the templeof Serapis. Besides, they do not fill their jars for men but in theservice of a god. Here--take this roll and read it through while Ianswer the despatch from Rome. Here! Spartacus, come and light a fewmore lamps."

  In a few minutes the two young men were sitting opposite each other atthe table which stood in the middle of their tent. Publius wrote busily,and only looked up when his friend, who was reading the anchorite'sdocument, struck his hand on the table in disgust or sprang from hisseat ejaculating bitter words of indignation. Both had finished at thesame moment, and when Publius had folded and sealed his letter, andLysias had flung the roll on to the table, the Roman said slowly, as helooked his friend steadily in the face: "Well?"

  "Well!" repeated Lysias. I now find myself in the humiliating positionof being obliged to deem myself more stupid than you--I must own youin the right, and beg your pardon for having thought you insolent andarrogant! Never, no never did I hear a story so infernally scandalous asthat in that roll, and such a thing could never have occurred but amongthese accursed Egyptians! Poor little Irene! And how can the dear littlegirl have kept such a sunny look through it all! I could thrash myselflike any school-boy to think that I--a fool among fools--should havedirected the attention of Euergetes to this girl, and he, the mostpowerful and profligate man in the whole country. What can now bedone to save Irene from him? I cannot endure the thought of seeing herabandoned to h
is clutches, and I will not permit it to happen.

  "Do not you think that we ought to take the water-bearers under ourcharge?"

  "Not only we ought but we must," said Publius decisively; "and if we didnot we should be contemptible wretches. Since the recluse took me intohis confidence I feel as if it were my duty to watch over thesegirls whose parents have been stolen from them, as if I were theirguardian--and you, my Lysias, shall help me. The elder sister is not nowvery friendly towards me, but I do not esteem her the less for that;the younger one seems less grave and reserved than Klea; I saw how sheresponded to your smile when the procession broke up. Afterwards, youdid not come home immediately any more than I did, and I suspect that itwas Irene who detained you. Be frank, I earnestly beseech you, and tellme all; for we must act in unison, and with thorough deliberation, if wehope to succeed in spoiling Euergetes' game."

  "I have not much to tell you," replied the Corinthian. "After theprocession I went to the Pastophorium--naturally it was to see Irene,and in order not to fail in this I allowed the pilgrims to tell me whatvisions the god had sent them in their dreams, and what advice had beengiven them in the temple of Asclepius as to what to do for their owncomplaints, and those of their cousins, male and female.

  "Quite half an hour had passed so before Irene came. She carried alittle basket in which lay the gold ornaments she had worn atthe festival, and which she had to restore to the keeper of thetemple-treasure. My pomegranate-flower, which she had accepted in themorning, shone upon me from afar, and then, when she caught sight of meand blushed all over, casting down her eyes, then it was that it firststruck me 'just like the Hebe on our cistern.'

  "She wanted to pass me, but I detained her, begging her to show me theornaments in her hand; I said a number of things such as girls like tohear, and then I asked her if she were strictly watched, and whetherthey gave her delicate little hands and feet--which were worthy ofbetter occupation than water-carrying--a great deal to do. She did nothesitate to answer, but with all she said she rarely raised her eyes.The longer you look at her the lovelier she is--and yet she is still amere child-though a child certainly who no longer loves staying at home,who has dreams of splendor, and enjoyment, and freedom while she is keptshut up in a dismal, dark place, and left to starve.

  "The poor creatures may never quit the temple excepting for aprocession, or before sunrise. It sounded too delightful when she saidthat she was always so horribly tired, and so glad to go to sleep againafter she was waked, and had to go out at once just when it is coldest,in the twilight before sunrise. Then she has to draw water from acistern called the Well of the Sun."

  "Do you know where that cistern lies?" asked Publius.

  "Behind the acacia-grove," answered Lysias. "The guide pointed it out tome. It is said to hold particularly sacred water, which must be pouredas a libation to the god at sunrise, unmixed with any other. The girlsmust get up so early, that as soon as dawn breaks water from thiscistern shall not be lacking at the altar of Serapis. It is poured outon the earth by the priests as a drink-offering."

  Publius had listened attentively, and had not lost a word of hisfriend's narrative. He now quitted him hastily, opened the tent-door,and went out into the night, looking up to discover the hour fromthe stars which were silently pursuing their everlasting courses incountless thousands, and sparkling with extraordinary brilliancy in thedeep blue sky. The moon was already set, and the morning-star was slowlyrising--every night since the Roman had been in the land of the Pyramidshe had admired its magnificent size and brightness.

  A cold breeze fanned the young man's brow, and as he drew his robeacross his breast with a shiver, he thought of the sisters, who, beforelong, would have to go out in the fresh morning air. Once more he raisedhis eyes from the earth to the firmament over his head, and it seemed tohim that he saw before his very eyes the proud form of Klea, envelopedin a mantle sown over with stars. His heart throbbed high, and he feltas if the breeze that his heaving breast inhaled in deep breaths was asfresh and pure as the ether that floats over Elysium, and of a strangepotency withal, as if too rare to breathe. Still he fancied he sawbefore him the image of Klea, but as he stretched out his hand towardsthe beautiful vision it vanished--a sound of hoofs and wheels fell uponhis ear. Publius was not accustomed to abandon himself to dreaming whenaction was needed, and this reminded him of the purpose for which he hadcome out into the open air. Chariot after chariot came driving pastas he returned into his tent. Lysias, who during his absence had beenpacing up and down and reflecting, met him with the question:

  "How long is it yet till sunrise?"

  "Hardly two hours," replied the Roman. "And we must make good use ofthem if we would not arrive too late."

  "So I think too," said the Corinthian. "The sisters will soon be at theWell of the Sun outside the temple walls, and I will persuade Irene tofollow me. You think I shall not be successful? Nor do I myself--butstill perhaps she will if I promise to show her something very pretty,and if she does not suspect that she is to be parted from her sister,for she is like a child."

  "But Klea," interrupted Publius thoughtfully, "is grave and prudent; andthe light tone which you are so ready to adopt will be very little toher taste, Consider that, and dare the attempt--no, you dare not deceiveher. Tell her the whole truth, out of Irene's hearing, with the gravitythe matter deserves, and she will not hinder her sister when she knowshow great and how imminent is the danger that threatens her."

  "Good!" said the Corinthian. "I will be so solemnly earnest that themost wrinkled and furrowed graybeard among the censors of your nativecity shall seem a Dionysiac dancer compared with me. I will speak likeyour Cato when he so bitterly complained that the epicures of Rome paidmore now for a barrel of fresh herrings than for a yoke of oxen. Youshall be perfectly satisfied with me!--But whither am I to conductIrene? I might perhaps make use of one of the king's chariots which arepassing now by dozens to carry the guests home."

  "I also had thought of that," replied Publius. "Go with the chief of theDiadoches, whose splendid house was shown to us yesterday. It is on theway to the Serapeum, and just now at the feast you were talking withhim incessantly. When there, indemnify the driver by the gift of a goldpiece, so that he may not betray us, and do not return here but proceedto the harbor. I will await you near the little temple of Isis with ourtravelling chariot and my own horses, will receive Irene, and conducther to some new refuge while you drive back Fuergetes' chariot, andrestore it to the driver."

  "That will not satisfy me by any means," said Lysias very gravely; "Iwas ready to give up my pomegranate-flower to you yesterday for Irene,but herself--"

  "I want nothing of her," exclaimed Publius annoyed. "But you might--itseems to me--be rather more zealous in helping me to preserve her fromthe misfortune which threatens her through your own blunder. We cannotbring her here, but I think that I have thought of a safe hiding-placefor her.

  "Do you remember Apollodorus, the sculptor, to whom we were recommendedby my father, and his kind and friendly wife who set before usthat capital Chios wine? The man owes me a service, for my fathercommissioned him and his assistants to execute the mosaic pavement inthe new arcade he was having built in the capitol; and subsequently,when the envy of rival artists threatened his life, my father saved him.You yourself heard him say that he and his were all at my disposal."

  "Certainly, certainly," said Lysias. "But say, does it not strike youas most extraordinary that artists, the very men, that is to say, whobeyond all others devote themselves to ideal aims and efforts, areparticularly ready to yield to the basest impulses; envy, detraction,and--"

  "Man!" exclaimed Publius, angrily interrupting the Greek, "can you neverfor ten seconds keep on the same subject, and never keep anything toyourself that comes into your head? We have just now, as it seems to me,more important matters to discuss than the jealousy of each othershown by artists--and in my opinion, by learned men too. The sculptorApollodorus, who is thus beholden to me, has been living here for thelast
six months with his wife and daughters, for he has been executingfor Philometor the busts of the philosophers, and the animal groupsto decorate the open space in front of the tomb of Apis. His sons aremanagers of his large factory in Alexandria, and when he next goesthere, down the Nile in his boat, as often happens, he can take Irenewith him, and put her on board a ship.

  "As to where we can have her taken to keep her safe from Euergetes, wewill talk that over afterwards with Apollodorus."

  "Good, very good," agreed the Corinthian. "By Heracles! I am notsuspicious--still it does not altogether please me that you shouldyourself conduct Irene to Apollodorus, for if you are seen in hercompany our whole project may be shipwrecked. Send the sculptor's wife,who is little known in Memphis, to the temple of Isis, and request herto bring a veil and cloak to conceal the girl. Greet the gay Milesianfrom me too, and tell her--no, tell her nothing--I shall see her myselfafterwards at the temple of Isis."

  During the last words of this conversation, slaves had been envelopingthe two young men in their mantles. They now quitted the tent together,wished each other success, and set out at a brisk pace; the Roman tohave his horses harnessed, and Lysias to accompany the chief of theDiadoches in one of the king's chariots, and then to act on the plan hehad agreed upon with Publius.