Quo Vadis - Henryk Sienkiewicz (read after .TXT) 📗

of their tears and blood, still his voice quivered with emotion when he was blessing them with the cross, and he said⁠—

“Now I bless you, my children, as ye go to torture, to death, to eternity.”

They gathered round him and wept. “We are ready,” said they; “but do thou, O holy head, guard thyself, for thou art the vice-regent who performs the office of Christ.”

And thus speaking, they seized his mantle; he placed his hands on their heads, and blessed each one separately, just as a father does children whom he is sending on a long journey.

And they began at once to go out of the shed, for they were in a hurry, to their houses, and from them to the prisons and arenas. Their thoughts were separated from the earth, their souls had taken flight toward eternity, and they walked on as if in a dream, in ecstasy opposing that force which was in them to the force and the cruelty of the “Beast.”

Nereus, the servant of Pudens, took the Apostle and led him by a secret path in the vineyard to his house. But Vinicius followed them in the clear night, and when they reached the cottage of Nereus at last, he threw himself suddenly at the feet of the Apostle.

“What dost thou wish, my Son?” asked Peter, recognizing him.

After what he had heard in the vineyard, Vinicius dared not implore him for anything; but, embracing his feet with both hands, he pressed his forehead to them with sobbing, and called for compassion in that dumb manner.

“I know. They took the maiden whom thou lovest. Pray for her.”

“Lord,” groaned Vinicius, embracing his feet still more firmly⁠—“Lord, I am a wretched worm; but thou didst know Christ. Implore Him⁠—take her part.”

And from pain he trembled like a leaf; and he beat the earth with his forehead, for, knowing the strength of the Apostle, he knew that he alone could rescue her.

Peter was moved by that pain. He remembered how on a time Lygia herself, when attacked by Crispus, lay at his feet in like manner imploring pity. He remembered that he had raised her and comforted her; hence now he raised Vinicius.

“My son,” said he, “I will pray for her; but do thou remember that I told those doubting ones that God Himself passed through the torment of the cross, and remember that after this life begins another⁠—an eternal one.”

“I know; I have heard!” answered Vinicius, catching the air with his pale lips; “but thou seest, lord, that I cannot! If blood is required, implore Christ to take mine⁠—I am a soldier. Let Him double, let Him triple, the torment intended for her, I will suffer it; but let Him spare her. She is a child yet, and He is mightier than Caesar, I believe, mightier. Thou didst love her thyself; thou didst bless us. She is an innocent child yet.”

Again he bowed, and, putting his face to Peter’s knees, he repeated⁠—

“Thou didst know Christ, lord⁠—thou didst know Him. He will give ear to thee; take her part.”

Peter closed his lids, and prayed earnestly. The summer lightning illuminated the sky again. Vinicius, by the light of it, looked at the lips of the Apostle, waiting sentence of life or death from them. In the silence quails were heard calling in the vineyard, and the dull, distant sound of treadmills near the Via Salaria.

“Vinicius,” asked the Apostle at last, “dost thou believe?”

“Would I have come hither if I believed not?” answered Vinicius.

“Then believe to the end, for faith will remove mountains. Hence, though thou wert to see that maiden under the sword of the executioner or in the jaws of a lion, believe that Christ can save her. Believe, and pray to Him, and I will pray with thee.”

Then, raising his face toward heaven, he said aloud⁠—

“O merciful Christ, look on this aching heart and console it! O merciful Christ, temper the wind to the fleece of the lamb! O merciful Christ, who didst implore the Father to turn away the bitter cup from Thy mouth, turn it from the mouth of this Thy servant! Amen.”

But Vinicius, stretching his hand toward the stars, said, groaning⁠—

“I am Thine; take me instead of her.”

The sky began to grow pale in the east.

LIII

Vinicius, on leaving the Apostle, went to the prison with a heart renewed by hope. Somewhere in the depth of his soul, despair and terror were still crying; but he stifled those voices. It seemed to him impossible that the intercession of the vice-regent of God and the power of his prayer should be without effect. He feared to hope; he feared to doubt. “I will believe in His mercy,” said he to himself, “even though I saw her in the jaws of a lion.” And at this thought, even though the soul quivered in him and cold sweat drenched his temples, he believed. Every throb of his heart was a prayer then. He began to understand that faith would move mountains, for he felt in himself a wonderful strength, which he had not felt earlier. It seemed to him that he could do things which he had not the power to do the day before. At moments he had an impression that the danger had passed. If despair was heard groaning again in his soul, he recalled that night, and that holy gray face raised to heaven in prayer.

“No, Christ will not refuse His first disciple and the pastor of His flock! Christ will not refuse him! I will not doubt!” And he ran toward the prison as a herald of good news.

But there an unexpected thing awaited him.

All the pretorian guards taking turn before the Mamertine prison knew him, and generally they raised not the least difficulty; this time, however, the line did not open, but a centurion approached him and said⁠—

“Pardon, noble tribune, today we have a command to admit no one.”

“A command?” repeated Vinicius, growing pale.

The soldier looked at him with