The Emperor, Part 1, Volume 4.
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Georg Ebers >> The Emperor, Part 1, Volume 4.
"Stay at home, and spare yourself!" he begged her once more in a
trembling voice.
"You worry me!" she said, in a tone of vexation. "I must go, and it is
not far."
"May I accompany you?"
She laughed aloud and answered somewhat scornfully:
"Certainly not. Only conduct me through the corridor that the dog may
not attack me again, then go where you will--but not with me."
He obeyed when at the end of the passage where it opened into a large
hall, he bid her farewell, and she thanked him with a few friendly words.
There were two ways out from her father's rooms into the road, one led
through the rotunda where the Ptolemaic Queens were placed, and across
several terraces up and down steps through the forecourt; the other, on a
level all the way, through the rooms and halls of the palace. She was
forced to choose the latter, for it would have been impossible for her
with her aching foot to clamber up a number of steps without help and
down them again, but she came to this conclusion much against her will,
for she knew what numbers of men were engaged in the works of
restoration; and to get through them safely it struck her that she might
ask her old playfellow to escort her through the crowd of workmen and
rough slaves as far as his parent's gatehouse. But she did not easily
decide on this course, for, since the afternoon when Pollux had shown her
mother's bust to Arsinoe before showing it to her, she had felt a grudge
towards the sculptor, who so lately before had touched and opened her
weary and loveless soul; and this sore feeling had not diminished, but
had rather increased with time. At every hour of the day, and whatever
she was occupied in, she could not help repeating to herself, that she
had every reason to be vexed with him.
She had stood to him a second time as a model for his work, had spoken to
him many times, and when last they parted had promised to allow him this
very evening to study once more the folds of her mantle. With what
pleasure she had looked forward to each meeting with Pollux, how truly
lovable she had thought him on every fresh occasion; how frankly he too,
expressed his pleasure as often as they met! They had talked of all
sorts of things, even of love, and how eager he had been when he told her
that the only thing she needed to make her happy was a good husband who
would succor and comfort her as she deserved, and as he spoke he had
looked at his own strong hands while she had turned red, and had thought
to herself that if he liked it she would willingly make the experiment of
enjoying life heartily by his side.
It seemed to her as though they belonged to each other, as if she had
been born for him alone, and he for her. Why then yesterday had he shown
Arsinoe her mother's bust before her?
Well, now she would ask him plainly whether he had placed it on the
rotunda for her or for her sister, and let him see she was not pleased.
She must tell him, too, that she could not stand as his model that
evening; if only on account of her foot that would be impossible.
With increasing pain and effort she crossed the threshold of the hall of
the Muses, and went up to the screen behind which her friend was
concealed. He was not alone, for she heard voices within--and it was not
a man but a woman who was with him; she could hear her clear laugh at
some distance. When she came close up to the screen to call Pollux, the
woman, who was certainly sitting to him as a model, spoke louder than
before, and called out merrily:
"But this is delicious! I am to let you fulfil the office of my maid,
what audacity these artists have!"
"Say yes," begged the artist, in the gay and cordial tone which more than
once had helped to ensnare Selene's heart. "You are beautiful, Balbilla,
but if you would allow me, you might be far handsomer than you are even."
And again there was a merry laugh behind the screen. The pleasant voice
must have hurt poor Selene acutely for she drew up her shoulders, and her
fair features were stamped with an expression of keen suffering, and she
pressed both hands over her heart as she went on past the screen and her
handsome flirting playfellow, limping across the courtyard and into the
road.
What tortured the poor child so cruelly? The poverty of her house, and
her bodily pain, which increased at every step, or her numbed and sore
heart, betrayed of her newly-blossoming, last, and fairest hope?
CHAPTER XVI.
Usually when Selene went out walking, many people looked at her with
admiration, but to-day a couple of street-boys composed her escort. They
ran after her calling out impudently, 'dot, and go one,' and tried
ruthlessly to snatch at the loosely-tied sandal on her injured foot,
which tapped the pavement at every step. While Selene was thus making
her way with cruel pain, satisfaction and happiness had visited Arsinoe;
for hardly had Selene and Antinous quitted her father's apartments, when
Hiram begged her to show him the little bottle which the handsome youth
had just given her. The dealer turned it over and over in the sunlight,
tested its ring, tried to scratch it with the stone in his ring, and then
muttered, "Vasa Murrhma."
The words did not escape the girl's sharp ears, and she had heard her
father say that the costliest of all the ornamental vessels with which
the wealthy Romans were wont to decorate their reception-rooms, were
those called Vasa Murrhina; so she explained to him at once, that she
knew what high prices were paid for such vases, and that she had no mind
to sell it cheaply. He began to bid, she laughingly demanded ten times
the price, and after a long battle between the dealer and the owner,
fought now half in jest, and now in grave earnest, the Phoenician said:
"Two thousand drachmae; not a sesterce more." That is not enough by a
long way, but then it is yours."
"I would hardly have given half to a less fair customer."
"And I only let you have it because you are such a polite man."
"I will send you the money before sundown."
At these words the girl, who had been radiant with surprise and delight,
and who would have liked to throw her arms round the bald-headed
merchant's neck, or round that of her old slave, who was even less
attractive, or for that matter, would have embraced the world--the
triumphant girl became thoughtful; her father would certainly come home
ere long, and she could not conceal from herself that he would disapprove
of the whole proceeding, and would probably send the phial back to the
young man, and the money to the dealer. She herself would never have
asked the stranger for the bottle if she had had the slightest suspicion
of its value; but now it certainly belonged to her, and if she had given
it back again she would have given no one any pleasure; on the contrary,
she would have offended the stranger, and probably have lost the greatest
pleasure that she had ever enjoyed.
What was to be done now? She was still perched on the table; she had
taken her left foot in her right hand, and sitting in this quaint
position, she looked down on the ground as gravely as if she were trying
to find an idea, or a way out of the difficulty, in the pattern on the
floor.
The dealer for a moment amused himself in studying her bewilderment,
which he thought charming--only wishing that his son, a young painter,
were standing in his place. At last he broke the silence however,
saying:
"Your father, perhaps, will not agree to our bargain; and yet it is for
him you want the money?"
"Who says so?"
"Would he have offered me his own treasures if he had not wanted money?"
"It is only--I can--only--" stammered Arsinoe, who was unaccustomed to
falsehood--I would merely not confess to him--"
"I myself saw how innocently you came by the phial," said the dealer,
"and Keraunus never need know anything about such a trifle. Fancy
yourself, that you have broken it, and that the pieces are lying at the
bottom of the sea. Which of all these things does your father value
least?"
"This old sword of Antony," answered the child, her face brightening once
more. "He says it is much too long, and too slender to be what it
pretends to be. For my part I do not believe that it is a sword at all,
but a roasting-spit."
"I shall apply it to that very purpose to-morrow morning in my kitchen,"
said the dealer, "but I offer you two thousand drachmae for it, and will
take it with me and send you the amount in a few hours. Will that do?"
Arsinoe dropped her foot, glided from the table, and instead of
answering, clapped her hands with glee.
"Only tell him," continued Hiram, "that I am able just now to pay so much
for this kind of thing, because Caesar is certain to look about him for
the things that belonged to Julius Caesar, Marc Antony, Octavianus,
Augustus, and other great Romans who have lived in Egypt. The old woman
there may bring the spit after me. My slave is waiting outside, and can
hide it under his chiton as far as my kitchen door, for if he carried it
openly the connoisseurs passing by might covet the priceless treasure,
and we must protect ourselves from the evil eye."
The dealer laughed, took the little bottle into his own keeping, gave the
sword to the old woman, and then took a friendly leave of the young girl.
As soon as Arsinoe was alone, she flew into the bedroom to put on her
sandals, threw her veil over her head, and hastened to the papyrus
manufactory. Selene must know of the unexpected good fortune that had
befallen her, and all of them, and then she would have the poor girl
carried home in a litter, for there were always plenty for hire on the
quay.
Things did not always go smoothly--very often very unsmoothly and
stormily between the sisters, but still anything of importance that
happened to Arsinoe, whether it were good or evil, she must at once tell
Selene.
Ye gods! what happiness! She could take her place among the daughters of
the great citizens in the processions, no less richly apparelled than
they, and still there would remain a nice little sum for her father and
sister; and the work in the factory, the nasty dirty work, which she
hated and loathed, would be at an end, it was to be hoped, for ever.
The old slave was still sitting on the steps with the children; Arsinoe
tossed them up one after the other, and whispered in each child's ear:
"Cakes this evening!" and she kissed the blind child's eyes, and said:
"You may come with me, dear little man. I will find a litter for Selene
and put you in, and you will be carried home like a little prince."
The little blind boy threw his arms up with delight, exclaiming:
"Through the air, and without falling." While she was still holding him
in her arms, her father came up the steps that led from the rotunda to
the passage, his face streaming with heat and excitement; and after
wiping his brow and panting to regain his breath, he said:
"Hiram, the curiosity-dealer, met me just outside, with the sword that
belonged to Antony; and you sold it to him for two thousand drachmae!
you little fool!"
"But, father, you would have given the old spit for a pasty and a draught
of wine," laughed Arsinoe.
"I?" cried Keraunus. "I would have had three times the sum for that
venerable relic, for which Caesar will give its weight in silver;
however, sold is sold. And yet-and yet, the thought that I no longer
possess the sword of Antony, will give me many sleepless nights."
"If this evening we set you down to a good dish of meat, sleep will soon
follow," answered Arsinoe, and she took the handkerchief out of her
father's hand, and coaxingly wiped his temples, going on vivaciously:
"We are quite rich folks, father, and will show the other citizens'
daughters what we can do."
"Now you shall both take part in the festival," said Keraunus, decidedly.
"Caesar shall see that I shun no sacrifice in his honor, and if he
notices you, and I bring my complaint against that insolent architect
before him--"
"You must let that pass," begged Arsinoe, "if only poor Selene's foot is
well by that time."
"Where is she?"
"Gone out."
"Then her foot cannot be so very bad. She will soon come in, it is to be
hoped."
"Probably--I mean to fetch her with a litter."
"A litter?" said Keraunus, in surprise.
"The two thousand drachmae have turned the girl's head."
"Only on account of her foot. It was hurting her so much when she went
out."
"Then why did she not stay at home? As usual she has wasted an hour to
save a sesterce, and you, neither of you have any time to spare."
"I will go after her at once."
"No--no, you at any rate, must remain here, for in two hours the matrons
and maidens are to meet at the theatre."
"In two hours! but mighty Serapis, what are we to put on?"
"It is your business to see to that," replied Keraunus, "I myself will
have the litter you spoke of, and be carried down to Tryphon, the ship-
builder. Is there any money left in Selene's box?"
Arsinoe went into her sleeping-room, and said, as she returned:
"This is all--six pieces of two drachmae."
"Four will be enough for me," replied the steward, but after a moment's
reflection he took the whole half-dozen.
"What do you want with the ship-builder?" asked Arsinoe.
"In the Council," replied Keraunus, "I was worried again about you girls.
I said one of my daughters was ill, and the other must attend upon her;
but this would not do, and I was asked to send the one who was well.
Then I explained that you had no mother, that we lived a retired life for
each other, and that I could not bear the idea of sending my daughter
alone, and without any protectress to the meeting. So then Tryphon said
that it would give his wife pleasure to take you to the theatre with her
own daughter. This I half accepted, but I declared at once that you
would not go, if your elder sister were not better. I could not give
any positive consent--you know why."
"Oh, blessings on Antony and his noble spit!" cried Arsinoe. "Now
everything is settled, and you can tell the ship-builder we shall go.
Our white dresses are still quite good, but a few ells of new light blue
ribbon for my hair, and of red for Selene's, you must buy on the way, at
Abibaal, the Phoenician's."
"Very good."
"I will see at once to both the dresses--but, to be sure, when are we to
be ready?"
"In two hours."
"Then, do you know what, dear old father?"
"Well?"
"Our old woman is half blind, and does everything wrong. Do let me go
down to dame Doris at the gate-house, and ask her to help me. She is so
clever and kind, and no one irons so well as she does."
"Silence!" cried the steward, angrily, interrupting his daughter.
"Those people shall never again cross my threshold."
"But look at my hair; only look at the state it is in," cried Arsinoe,
excitedly, and thrusting her fingers into her thick tresses which she
pulled into disorder. "To do that up again, plait it with new ribbons,
iron our dresses, and sew on the brooches--why the Empress' ladies-maid
could not do all that in two hours."
"Doris shall never cross this threshold," repeated Keraunus, for all his
answer.
"Then tell the tailor Hippias to send me an assistant; but that will cost
money."
"We have it, and can pay," replied Keraunus, proudly, and in order not
to forget his commissions he muttered to himself while he went to get a
litter:
"Hippias the tailor, blue ribbon, red ribbon, and Tryphon the ship-
builder."
The tailor's nimble apprentice helped Arsinoe to arrange her dress and
Selene's, and was never weary of praising the sheen and silkiness of
Arsinoe's hair, while she twisted it with ribbons, built it up and
twisted it at the back so gracefully with a comb, that it fell in a thick
mass of artfully-curled locks down her neck and back. When Keraunus came
back, he gazed with justifiable pride at his beautiful child; he was
immensely pleased, and even chuckled softly to himself as he laid out the
gold pieces which were brought to him by the curiosity-dealer's servant,
and set them in a row and counted them. While he was thus occupied,
Arsinoe went up to him and asked laughing: "Hiram has not cheated me
then?" Keraunus desired her not to disturb him, and added:
"Think of that sword, the weapon of the great Antony, perhaps the very
one with which he pierced his own breast.--Where can Selene be?"
An hour, an hour and a half had slipped by, and when the fourth half-
hour was well begun, and still his eldest daughter did not return, the
steward announced that they must set out, for that it would not do to
keep the ship-builder's wife waiting. It was a sincere grief to Arsinoe
to be obliged to go without Selene. She had made her sister's dress look
as nice as her own, and had laid it carefully on the divan near the
mosaic pavement. She had taken a great deal of trouble. Never before
had she been out in the streets alone, and it seemed impossible to enjoy
anything without the companionship and supervision of her absent sister.
But her father's assertion, that Selene would have a place gladly found
for her, even later, among the maidens, reassured the girl who was
overflowing with joyful expectation.
Finally she perfumed herself a little with the fragrant extract which
Keraunus was accustomed to use before going to the council, and begged
her father to order the old slave-woman to go and buy the promised cakes
for the little ones during her absence. The children had all gathered
round her, admiring her with loud ohs! and ahs! as if she were some
wondrous incarnation, not to be too nearly approached, and on no account
to be touched. The elaborate dressing of her hair would not allow of her
stooping over them as usual. She could only stroke little Helios' curls,
saying: "Tomorrow you shall have a ride in the air, and perhaps Selene
will tell you a pretty story by-and-bye."
Her heart beat faster than usual as she stepped into the litter, which
was waiting for her just in front of the gate-house. Old Doris looked at
her from a distance with pleasure, and while Keraunus stepped out into
the street to call a litter for himself, the old woman hastily cut the
two finest roses from her bush, and pressing her fingers to her lips with
a sly smile, put them into the girl's hand.
Arsinoe felt as if it were in a dream that she went to the ship-builder's
house, and from thence to the theatre, and on her way she fully
understood, for the first time, that alarm and delight may find room side
by side in a girl's mind, and that one by no means hinders the existence
of the other.
Fear and expectation so completely overmastered her, that she neither saw
nor heard what was going on around her; only once she noticed a young man
with a garland on his head, who, as he passed her, arm in arm with
another, called out to her gaily: "Long live beauty!"
From that moment she kept her eyes fixed on her lap and on the roses dame
Doris had given her. The flowers reminded her of the kind old woman's
son, and she wondered whether tall Pollux had perhaps seen her in her
finery. That, she would have liked very much; and after all, it was not
at all impossible, for, of course, since Pollux had been working at
Lochias he must often have gone to his parents. Perhaps even he had
himself picked the roses for her, but had not dared to give them to her
as her father was so near.
CHAPTER XVII.
But the young sculptor had not been at the gatehouse when Arsinoe went
by. He had thought of her often enough since meeting her again by the
bust of her mother; but on this particular afternoon his time and
thoughts were fully claimed by another fair damsel. Balbilla had arrived
at Lochias about noon, accompanied, as was fitting, by the worthy
Claudia, the not wealthy widow of a senator, who for many years had
filled the place of lady-in-attendance and protecting companion to the
rich fatherless and motherless girl. At Rome, she conducted Balbilla's
household affairs with as much sense and skill as satisfaction in the
task. Still she was not perfectly content with her lot, for her ward's
love of travelling, often compelled her to leave the metropolis, and in
her estimation, there was no place but Rome where life was worth living.
A visit to Baiae for bathing, or in the winter months a flight to the
Ligurian coast, to escape the cold of January and February--these she
could endure; for she was certain there to find, if not Rome, at any rate
Romans; but Balbilla's wish to venture in a tossing ship, to visit the
torrid shores of Africa, which she pictured to herself as a burning oven,
she had opposed to the utmost. At last, however, she was obliged to put
a good face on the matter, for the Empress herself expressed so decidedly
her wish to take Balbilla with her to the Nile, that any resistance would
have been unduteous. Still; in her secret heart, she could not but
confess to herself that her high-spirited and wilful foster-child--for
so she loved to call Balbilla--would undoubtedly have carried out her
purpose without the Empress' intervention.
Balbilla had come to the palace, as the reader knows, to sit for her
bust.
When Selene was passing by the screen which concealed her playfellow and
his work from her gaze, the worthy matron had fallen gently asleep on a
couch, and the sculptor was exerting all his zeal to convince the noble
damsel that the size to which her hair was dressed was an exaggeration,
and that the super-incumbence of such a mass must disfigure the effect of
the delicate features of her face. He implored her to remember in how
simple a style the great Athenian masters, at the best period of the
plastic arts, had taught their beautiful models to dress their hair, and
requested her to do her own hair in that manner next day, and to come to
him before she allowed her maid to put a single lock through the curling-
tongs; for to-day, as he said, the pretty little ringlets would fly back
into shape, like the spring of a fibula when the pin was bent back.
Balbilla contradicted him with gay vivacity, protested against his desire
to play the part of lady's maid, and defended her style of hair-dressing
on the score of fashion.
"But the fashion is ugly, monstrous, a pain to one's eyes!" cried
Pollux. "Some vain Roman lady must have invented it, not to make herself
beautiful, but to be conspicuous."
"I hate the idea of being conspicuous by my appearance," answered
Balbilla. "It is precisely by following the fashion, however conspicuous
it may be, that we are less remarkable than when we carefully dress far
more simply and plainly--in short, differently to what it prescribes.
Which do you regard as the vainer, the fashionably-dressed young
gentleman on the Canopic way, or the cynical philosopher with his unkempt
hair, his carefully-ragged cloak over his shoulders, and a heavy cudgel
in his dirty hands?"
"The latter, certainly," replied Pollux. "Still he is sinning against
the laws of beauty which I desire to win you over to, and which will
survive every whim of fashion, as certainly as Homer's Iliad will survive
the ballad of a street-singer, who celebrates the last murder that
excited the mob of this town.--Am I the first artist who has attempted to
represent your face?"
"No," said Balbilla, with a laugh. "Five Roman artists have already
experimented on my head."
"And did any one of their busts satisfy you?"
"Not one seemed to me better than utterly bad."
"And your pretty face is to be handed down to posterity in five-fold
deformity?"
"Ah! no--I had them all destroyed."
"That was very good of them!" cried Pollux, eagerly. Then turning with a
very simple gesture to the bust before him he said: "Hapless clay, if
the lovely lady whom thou art destined to resemble will not sacrifice
the chaos of her curls, thy fate will undoubtedly be that of thy
predecessors."
The sleeping matron was roused by this speech. "You were speaking," she
said, "of the broken busts of Balbilla?"
"Yes," replied the poetess.
"And perhaps this one may follow them," sighed Claudia. "Do you know
what lies before you in that case?"
"No, what?"
"This young lady knows something of your art."
"I learnt to knead clay a little of Aristaeus," interrupted Balbilla.
"Aha! because Caesar set the fashion, and in Rome it would have been
conspicuous not to dabble in sculpture."
"Perhaps."
"And she tried to improve in every bust all that particularly displeased
her," continued Claudia.
"I only began the work for the slaves to finish," Balbilla threw in,
interrupting her companion. "Indeed, my people became quite expert in
the work of destruction."
"Then my work may, at any rate, hope for a short agony and speedy death,"
sighed Pollux. "And it is true--all that lives comes into the world with
its end already preordained."
"Would an early demise of your work pain you much? "asked Balbilla.
"Yes, if I thought it successful; not if I felt it to be a failure."
"Any one who keeps a bad bust," said Balbilla, "must feel fearful lest an
undeservedly bad reputation is handed down to future generations."