Chapter XXV

NEITHER could Vinicius discover the cause of what had happened; and in
the bottom of his soul he was almost as much astonished as Chilo. That
those people should treat him as they had, and, instead of avenging his
attack, dress his wounds carefully, he ascribed partly to the doctrine
which they confessed, more to Lygia, and a little, also, to his great
significance. But their conduct with Chilo simply went beyond his
understanding of man's power of forgiveness. And the question thrust
itself into his mind: Why did they not kill the Greek? They might have
killed him with impunity. Ursus would have buried him in the garden, or
borne him in the dark to the Tiber, which during that period of night-
murders, committed by Cæsar himself even, cast up human bodies so
frequently in the morning that no one inquired whence they came. To his
thinking, the Christians had not only the power, but the right to kill
Chilo. True, pity was not entirely a stranger to that world to which
the young patrician belonged. The Athenians raised an altar to pity,
and opposed for a long time the introduction of gladiatorial combats
into Athens. In Rome itself the conquered received pardon sometimes,
as, for instance, Calicratus, king of the Britons, who, taken prisoner
in the time of Claudius, and provided for by him bountifully, dwelt in
the city in freedom. But vengeance for a personal wrong seemed to
Vinicius, as to all, proper and justified. The neglect of it was
entirely opposed to his spirit. True, he had heard in Ostrianum that
one should love even enemies; that, however, he considered as a kind of
theory without application in life. And now this passed through his
head: that perhaps they had not killed Chilo because the day was among
festivals, or was in some period of the moon during which it was not
proper for Christians to kill a man. He had heard that there are days
among various nations on which it is not permitted to begin war even.
But why, in such a case, did they not deliver the Greek up to justice?
Why did the Apostle say that if a man offended seven times, it was
necessary to forgive him seven times; and why did Glaucus say to Chilo,
"May God forgive thee, as I forgive thee"?

Chilo had done him the most terrible wrong that one man could do
another. At the very thought of how he would act with a man who killed
Lygia, for instance, the heart of Vinicius seethed up, as does water in
a caldron; there were no torments which he would not inflict in his
vengeance! But Glaucus had forgiven; Ursus, too, had forgiven,--Ursus,
who might in fact kill whomever he wished in Rome with perfect impunity,
for all he needed was to kill the king of the grove in Nemi, and take
his place. Could the gladiator holding that office to which he had
succeeded only by killing the previous "king," resist the man whom
Croton could not resist? There was only one answer to all these
questions: that they refrained from killing him through a goodness so
great that the like of it had not been in the world up to that time, and
through an unbounded love of man, which commands to forget one's self,
one's wrongs, one's happiness and misfortune, and live for others. What
reward those people were to receive for this, Vinicius heard in
Ostrianum, but he could not understand it. He felt, however, that the
earthly life connected with the duty of renouncing everything good and
rich for the benefit of others must be wretched. So in what he thought
of the Christians at that moment, besides the greatest astonishment,
there was pity, and as it were a shade of contempt. It seemed to him
that they were sheep which earlier or later must be eaten by wolves; his
Roman nature could yield no recognition to people who let themselves be
devoured. This one thing struck him, however,--that after Chilo's
departure the faces of all were bright with a certain deep joy. The
Apostle approached Glaucus, placed his hand on his head, and said,--"In
thee Christ has triumphed."

The other raised his eyes, which were full of hope, and as bright with
joy as if some great unexpected happiness had been poured on him.
Vinicius, who could understand only joy or delight born of vengeance,
looked on him with eyes staring from fever, and somewhat as he would on
a madman. He saw, however, and saw not without internal indignation,
that Lygia pressed her lips of a queen to the hand of that man, who had
the appearance of a slave; and it seemed to him that the order of the
world was inverted utterly. Next Ursus told how he had conducted Chilo
to the street, and had asked forgiveness for the harm which he might
have done his bones; for this the Apostle blessed him also. Crispus
declared that it was a day of great victory. Hearing of this victory,
Vinicius lost the thread of his thought altogether.

But when Lygia gave him a cooling draught again, he held her hand for a
moment, and asked,--"Then must thou also forgive me?"

"We are Christians; it is not permitted us to keep anger in the heart."

"Lygia," said he, "whoever thy God is, I honor Him only because He is
thine."

"Thou wilt honor Him in thy heart when thou lovest Him."

"Only because He is thine," repeated Vinicius, in a fainter voice; and
he closed his eyes, for weakness had mastered him again.

Lygia went out, but returned after a time, and bent over him to learn if
he were sleeping. Vinicius, feeling that she was near, opened his eyes
and smiled. She placed her hand over them lightly, as if to incline him
to slumber. A great sweetness seized him then; but soon he felt more
grievously ill than before, and was very ill in reality. Night had
come, and with it a more violent fever. He could not sleep, and
followed Lygia with his eyes wherever she went.

At times he fell into a kind of doze, in which he saw and heard
everything which happened around him, but in which reality was mingled
with feverish dreams. It seemed to him that in some old, deserted
cemetery stood a temple, in the form of a tower, in which Lygia was
priestess. He did not take his eyes from her, but saw her on the summit
of the tower, with a lute in her hands, all in the light, like those
priestesses who in the night-time sing hymns in honor of the moon, and
whom he had seen in the Orient. He himself was climbing up winding
steps, with great effort, to bear her away with him. Behind was
creeping up Chilo, with teeth chattering from terror, and repeating, "Do
not do that, lord; she is a priestess, for whom He will take vengeance."
Vinicius did not know who that He was, but he understood that he himself
was going to commit some sacrilege, and he felt a boundless fear also.
But when he went to the balustrade surrounding the summit of the tower,
the Apostle with his silvery beard stood at Lygia's side on a sudden,
and said:

"Do not raise a hand; she belongs to me." Then he moved forward with
her, on a path formed by rays from the moon, as if on a path made to
heaven. He stretched his hands toward them, and begged both to take him
into their company.

Here he woke, became conscious, and looked before him. The lamp on the
tall staff shone more dimly, but still cast a light sufficiently clear.
All were sitting in front of the fire warming themselves, for the night
was chilly, and the chamber rather cold. Vinicius saw the breath coming
as steam from their lips. In the midst of them sat the Apostle; at his
knees, on a low footstool, was Lygia; farther on, Glaucus, Crispus,
Miriam, and at the edge, on one side Ursus, on the other Miriam's son
Nazarius, a youth with a handsome face, and long, dark hair reaching
down to his shoulders.

Lygia listened with eyes raised to the Apostle, and every head was
turned toward him, while he told something in an undertone. Vinicius
gazed at Peter with a certain superstitious awe, hardly inferior to that
terror which he felt during the fever dream. The thought passed through
his mind that that dream had touched truth; that the gray-haired man
there, freshly come from distant shores, would take Lygia from him
really, and take her somewhere away by unknown paths. He felt sure also
that the old man was speaking of him, perhaps telling how to separate
him from Lygia, for it seemed to him impossible that any one could speak
of aught else. Hence, collecting all his presence of mind, he listened
to Peter's words.

But he was mistaken altogether, for the Apostle was speaking of Christ
again.

"They live only through that name," thought Vinicius.

The old man was describing the seizure of Christ. "A company came, and
servants of the priest to seize Him. When the Saviour asked whom they
were seeking, they answered, 'Jesus of Nazareth.' But when He said to
them, 'I am He,' they fell on the ground, and dared not raise a hand on
Him. Only after the second inquiry did they seize Him."

Here the Apostle stopped, stretched his hands toward the fire and
continued:--"The night was cold, like this one, but the heart in me was
seething; so, drawing a sword to defend Him, I cut an ear from the
servant of the high-priest. I would have defended Him more than my own
life had He not said to me, 'Put thy sword into the sheath: the cup
which my Father has given me, shall I not drink it?' Then they seized
and bound Him."

When he had spoken thus far, Peter placed his palm on his forehead, and
was silent, wishing before he went further to stop the crowd of his
recollections. But Ursus, unable to restrain himself, sprang to his
feet, trimmed the light on the staff till the sparks scattered in golden
rain and the flame shot up with more vigor. Then he sat down, and
exclaimed:

"No matter what happened. I--"

He stopped suddenly, for Lygia had put her finger to her lips. But he
breathed loudly, and it was clear that a storm was in his soul; and
though he was ready at all times to kiss the feet of the Apostle, that
act was one he could not accept; if some one in his presence had raised
hands on the Redeemer, if he had been with Him on that night--Oi!
splinters would have shot from the soldiers, the servants of the priest,
and the officials. Tears came to his eyes at the very thought of this,
and because of his sorrow and mental struggle; for on the one hand he
thought that he would not only have defended the Redeemer, but would
have called Lygians to his aid,--splendid fellows,--and on the other, if
he had acted thus he would have disobeyed the Redeemer, and hindered the
salvation of man. For this reason he could not keep back his tears.

After a while Peter took his palm from his forehead, and resumed the
narrative. But Vinicius was overpowered by a new feverish, waking
dream. What he heard now was in his mind mixed up with what the Apostle
had told the night previous in Ostrianum, of that day in which Christ
appeared on the shore of the sea of Tiberius. He saw a sheet of water
broadly spread out; on it the boat of a fisherman, and in the boat Peter
and Lygia. He himself was moving with all his might after that boat,
but pain in his broken arm prevented him from reaching it. The wind
hurled waves in his eyes, he began to sink, and called with entreating
voice for rescue. Lygia knelt down then before the Apostle, who turned
his boat, and reached an oar, which Vinicius seized: with their
assistance he entered the boat and fell on the bottom of it.

It seemed to him, then, that he stood up, and saw a multitude of people
sailing after them. Waves covered their heads with foam; in the whirl
only the hands of a few could be seen; but Peter saved the drowning time
after time, and gathered them into his boat, which grew larger, as if by
a miracle. Soon crowds filled it, as numerous as those which were
collected in Ostrianum, and then still greater crowds. Vinicius
wondered how they could find place there, and he was afraid that they
would sink to the bottom. But Lygia pacified him by showing him a light
on the distant shore toward which they were sailing. These dream
pictures of Vinicius were blended again with descriptions which he had
heard in Ostrianum, from the lips of the Apostle, as to how Christ had
appeared on the lake once. So that he saw now in that light on the
shore a certain form toward which Peter was steering, and as he
approached it the weather grew calmer, the water grew smoother, the
light became greater. The crowd began to sing sweet hymns; the air was
filled with the odor of nard; the play of water formed a rainbow, as if
from the bottom of the lake lilies and roses were looking, and at last
the boat struck its breast safely against the sand. Lygia took his hand
then, and said, "Come, I will lead thee!" and she led him to the light.

Vinicius woke again; but his dreaming ceased slowly, and he did not
recover at once the sense of reality. It seemed for a time to him that
he was still on the lake, and surrounded by crowds, among which, not
knowing the reason himself, he began to look for Petronius, and was
astonished not to find him. The bright light from the chimney, at which
there was no one at that time, brought him completely to his senses.
Olive sticks were burning slowly under the rosy ashes; but the splinters
of pine, which evidently had been put there some moments before, shot up
a bright flame, and in the light of this, Vinicius saw Lygia, sitting
not far from his bedside.

The sight of her touched him to the depth of his soul. He remembered
that she had spent the night before in Ostrianum, and had busied herself
the whole day in nursing him, and now when all had gone to rest, she was
the only one watching. It was easy to divine that she must be wearied,
for while sitting motionless her eyes were closed. Vinicius knew not
whether she was sleeping or sunk in thought. He looked at her profile,
at her drooping lashes, at her hands lying on her knees; and in his
pagan head the idea began to hatch with difficulty that at the side of
naked beauty, confident, and proud of Greek and Roman symmetry, there is
another in the world, new, immensely pure, in which a soul has its
dwelling.

He could not bring himself so far as to call it Christian, but, thinking
of Lygia, he could not separate her from the religion which she
confessed. He understood, even, that if all the others had gone to
rest, and she alone were watching, she whom he had injured, it was
because her religion commanded her to watch. But that thought, which
filled him with wonder for the religion, was disagreeable to him. He
would rather that Lygia acted thus out of love for him, his face, his
eyes, his statuesque form,--in a word for reasons because of which more
than once snow-white Grecian and Roman arms had been wound around his
neck.

Still he felt all at once, that, were she like other women, something
would be lacking in her. He was amazed, and knew not what was happening
in him; for he saw that new feelings of some kind were rising in him,
new likings, strange to the world in which he had lived hitherto.

She opened her eyes then, and, seeing that Vinicius was gazing at her,
she approached him and said,--"I am with thee."

"I saw thy soul in a dream," replied he.