Quo Vadis - Henryk Sienkiewicz (best ereader under 100 .txt) 📗

for her, it was a pleasure different altogether from

that which he and Petronius and Cæsar’s court and all Rome were

pursuing. Every other woman whom he knew might become his mistress, but

that Christian would become only his victim. And when he thought of

this, he felt anger and burning pain, for he felt that his anger was

powerless. To carry off Lygia seemed to him possible; he was almost

sure that he could take her, but he was equally sure that, in view of

her religion, he himself with his bravery was nothing, that his power

was nothing, and that through it he could effect nothing. That Roman

military tribune, convinced that the power of the sword and the fist

which had conquered the world, would command it forever, saw for the

first time in life that beyond that power there might be something else;

hence he asked himself with amazement what it was. And he could not

answer distinctly; through his head flew merely pictures of the

cemetery, the assembled crowd, and Lygia, listening with her whole soul

to the words of the old man, as he narrated the passion, death, and

resurrection of the God-man, who had redeemed the world, and promised it

happiness on the other shore of the Styx.

 

When he thought of this, chaos rose in his head. But he was brought out

of this chaos by Chilo, who fell to lamenting his own fate. He had

agreed to find Lygia. He had sought for her in peril of his life, and

he had pointed her out. But what more do they want? Had he offered to

carry the maiden away? Who could ask anything like this of a maimed man

deprived of two fingers, an old man, devoted to meditation, to science,

and virtue? What would happen were a lord of such dignity as Vinicius

to meet some mishap while bearing the maiden away? It is true that the

gods are bound to watch over their chosen ones,—but have not such

things happened more than once, as if the gods were playing games

instead of watching what was passing in the world? Fortune is

blindfold, as is well known, and does not see even in daylight; what

must the case be at night? Let something happen,—let that Lygian bear

hurl a millstone at the noble Vinicius, or a keg of wine, or, still

worse, water,—who will give assurance that instead of a reward blame

will not fall on the hapless Chilo? He, the poor sage, has attached

himself to the noble Vinicius as Aristotle to Alexander of Macedon. If

the noble lord should give him at least that purse which he had thrust

into his girdle before leaving home, there would be something with which

to invoke aid in case of need, or to influence the Christians. Oh, why

not listen to the counsels of an old man, counsels dictated by

experience and prudence?

 

Vinicius, hearing this, took the purse from his belt, and threw it to

the fingers of Chilo.

 

“Thou hast it; be silent!”

 

The Greek felt that it was unusually heavy, and gained confidence.

 

“My whole hope is in this,” said he, “that Hercules or Theseus performed

deeds still more arduous; what is my personal, nearest friend, Croton,

if not Hercules? Thee, worthy lord, I will not call a demigod, for thou

art a full god, and in future thou wilt not forget a poor, faithful

servant, whose needs it will be necessary to provide for from time to

time, for once he is sunk in books, he thinks of nothing else; some few

stadia of garden land and a little house, even with the smallest

portico, for coolness in summer, would befit such a donor. Meanwhile I

shall admire thy heroic deeds from afar, and invoke Jove to befriend

thee, and if need be I will make such an outcry that half Rome will be

roused to thy assistance. What a wretched, rough road! The olive oil

is burned out in the lantern; and if Croton, who is as noble as he is

strong, would bear me to the gate in his arms, he would learn, to begin

with, whether he will carry the maiden easily; second, he would act like

Æneas, and win all the good gods to such a degree that touching the

result of the enterprise I should be thoroughly satisfied.”

 

“I should rather carry a sheep which died of mange a month ago,”

answered the gladiator; “but give that purse, bestowed by the worthy

tribune, and I will bear thee to the gate.”

 

“Mayst thou knock the great toe from thy foot,” replied the Greek; “what

profit hast thou from the teachings of that worthy old man, who

described poverty and charity as the two foremost virtues? Has he not

commanded thee expressly to love me? Never shall I make thee, I see,

even a poor Christian; it would be easier for the sun to pierce the

walls of the Mamertine prison than for truth to penetrate thy skull of a

hippopotamus.”

 

“Never fear!” said Croton, who with the strength of a beast had no human

feeling. “I shall not be a Christian! I have no wish to lose my

bread.”

 

“But if thou knew even the rudiments of philosophy, thou wouldst know

that gold is vanity.”

 

“Come to me with thy philosophy. I will give thee one blow of my head

in the stomach; we shall see then who wins.”

 

“An ox might have said the same to Aristotle,” retorted Chilo.

 

It was growing gray in the world. The dawn covered with pale light the

outlines of the walls. The trees along the wayside, the buildings, and

the gravestones scattered here and there began to issue from the shade.

The road was no longer quite empty. Marketmen were moving toward the

gates, leading asses and mules laden with vegetables; here and there

moved creaking carts in which game was conveyed. On the road and along

both sides of it was a light mist at the very earth, which promised good

weather. People at some distance seemed like apparitions in that mist.

Vinicius stared at the slender form of Lygia, which became more silvery

as the light increased.

 

“Lord,” said Chilo, “I should offend thee were I to foresee the end of

thy bounty, but now, when thou hast paid me, I may not be suspected of

speaking for my own interest only. I advise thee once more to go home

for slaves and a litter, when thou hast learned in what house the divine

Lygia dwells; listen not to that elephant trunk, Croton, who undertakes

to carry off the maiden only to squeeze thy purse as if it were a bag of

curds.”

 

“I have a blow of the fist to be struck between the shoulders, which

means that thou wilt perish,” said Croton.

 

“I have a cask of Cephalonian wine, which means that I shall be well,”

answered Chilo.

 

Vinicius made no answer, for he approached the gate, at which a

wonderful sight struck his eyes. Two soldiers knelt when the Apostle

was passing; Peter placed his hand on their iron helmets for a moment,

and then made the sign of the cross on them. It had never occurred to

the patrician before that there could be Christians in the army; with

astonishment he thought that as fire in a burning city takes in more and

more houses, so to all appearances that doctrine embraces new souls

every day, and extends itself over all human understandings. This

struck him also with reference to Lygia, for he was convinced that, had

she wished to flee from the city, there would be guards willing to

facilitate her flight. He thanked the gods then that this had not

happened.

 

After they had passed vacant places beyond the wall, the Christians

began to scatter. There was need, therefore, to follow Lygia more from

a distance, and more carefully, so as not to rouse attention. Chilo

fell to complaining of wounds, of pains in his legs, and dropped more

and more to the rear. Vinicius did not oppose this, judging that the

cowardly and incompetent Greek would not be needed. He would even have

permitted him to depart, had he wished; but the worthy sage was detained

by circumspection. Curiosity pressed him evidently, since he continued

behind, and at moments even approached with his previous counsels; he

thought too that the old man accompanying the Apostle might be Glaucus,

were it not for his rather low stature.

 

They walked a good while before reaching the Trans-Tiber, and the sun

was near rising when the group surrounding Lygia dispersed. The

Apostle, an old woman, and a boy went up the river; the old man of lower

stature, Ursus, and Lygia entered a narrow vicus, and, advancing still

about a hundred yards, went into a house in which were two shops,—one

for the sale of olives, the other for poultry.

 

Chilo, who walked about fifty yards behind Vinicius and Croton, halted

all at once, as if fixed to the earth, and, squeezing up to the wall,

began to hiss at them to turn.

 

They did so, for they needed to take counsel.

 

“Go, Chilo,” said Vinicius, “and see if this house fronts on another

street.” Chilo, though he had complained of wounds in his feet, sprang

away as quickly as if he had had the wings of Mercury on his ankles, and

returned in a moment.

 

“No,” said he, “there is but one entrance.”

 

Then, putting his hands together, he said, “I implore thee, lord, by

Jupiter, Apollo, Vesta, Cybele, Isis, Osiris, Mithra Baal, and all the

gods of the Orient and the Occident to drop this plan. Listen to me—”

 

But he stopped on a sudden, for he saw that Vinicius’s face was pale

from emotion, and that his eyes were glittering like the eyes of a wolf.

It was enough to look at him to understand that nothing in the world

would restrain him from the undertaking. Croton began to draw air into

his herculean breast, and to sway his undeveloped skull from side to

side as bears do when confined in a cage, but on his face not the least

fear was evident.

 

“I will go in first,” said he.

 

“Thou wilt follow me,” said Vinicius, in commanding tones.

 

And after a while both vanished in the dark entrance.

 

Chilo sprang to the corner of the nearest alley and watched from behind

it, waiting for what would happen.