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

city, which was the head of the world, he had established the work of his Master, one bloody breath of wrath had burned it, and he saw that there was need to take up the struggle anew. And what a struggle! On one side Caesar, the Senate, the people, the legions holding the world with a circle of iron, countless cities, countless lands⁠—power such as the eye of man had not seen; on the other side he, so bent with age and toil that his trembling hand was hardly able to carry his staff.

At times, therefore, he said to himself that it was not for him to measure with the Caesar of Rome⁠—that Christ alone could do that.

All these thoughts were passing through his care-filled head, when he heard the prayers of the last handful of the faithful. They, surrounding him in an ever narrowing circle, repeated with voices of entreaty⁠—

“Hide thyself, Rabbi, and lead us away from the power of the ‘Beast.’ ”

Finally Linus also bowed his tortured head before him.

“O lord,” said he, “the Redeemer commanded thee to feed His sheep, but they are here no longer or tomorrow they will not be here; go, therefore, where thou mayst find them yet. The word of God is living still in Jerusalem, in Antioch, in Ephesus, and in other cities. What wilt thou do by remaining in Rome? If thou fall, thou wilt merely swell the triumph of the ‘Beast.’ The Lord has not designated the limit of John’s life; Paul is a Roman citizen, they cannot condemn him without trial; but if the power of hell rise up against thee, O teacher, those whose hearts are dejected will ask, ‘Who is above Nero?’ Thou art the rock on which the church of God is founded. Let us die, but permit not the victory of Antichrist over the vice-regent of God, and return not hither till the Lord has crushed him who shed innocent blood.”

“Look at our tears!” repeated all who were present.

Tears flowed over Peter’s face too. After a while he rose, and, stretching his hands over the kneeling figures, said⁠—

“May the name of the Lord be magnified, and may His will be done!”

LXIX

About dawn of the following day two dark figures were moving along the Appian Way toward the Campania.

One of them was Nazarius; the other the Apostle Peter, who was leaving Rome and his martyred coreligionists.

The sky in the east was assuming a light tinge of green, bordered gradually and more distinctly on the lower edge with saffron color. Silver-leafed trees, the white marble of villas, and the arches of aqueducts, stretching through the plain toward the city, were emerging from shade. The greenness of the sky was clearing gradually, and becoming permeated with gold. Then the east began to grow rosy and illuminate the Alban Hills, which seemed marvelously beautiful, lily-colored, as if formed of rays of light alone.

The light was reflected in trembling leaves of trees, in the dewdrops. The haze grew thinner, opening wider and wider views on the plain, on the houses dotting it, on the cemeteries, on the towns, and on groups of trees, among which stood white columns of temples.

The road was empty. The villagers who took vegetables to the city had not succeeded yet, evidently, in harnessing beasts to their vehicles. From the stone blocks with which the road was paved as far as the mountains, there came a low sound from the bark shoes on the feet of the two travelers.

Then the sun appeared over the line of hills; but at once a wonderful vision struck the Apostle’s eyes. It seemed to him that the golden circle, instead of rising in the sky, moved down from the heights and was advancing on the road. Peter stopped, and asked⁠—

“Seest thou that brightness approaching us?”

“I see nothing,” replied Nazarius.

But Peter shaded his eyes with his hand, and said after a while⁠—

“Some figure is coming in the gleam of the sun.” But not the slightest sound of steps reached their ears. It was perfectly still all around. Nazarius saw only that the trees were quivering in the distance, as if someone were shaking them, and the light was spreading more broadly over the plain. He looked with wonder at the Apostle.

“Rabbi! what ails thee?” cried he, with alarm.

The pilgrim’s staff fell from Peter’s hands to the earth; his eyes were looking forward, motionless; his mouth was open; on his face were depicted astonishment, delight, rapture.

Then he threw himself on his knees, his arms stretched forward; and this cry left his lips⁠—

“O Christ! O Christ!”

He fell with his face to the earth, as if kissing someone’s feet.

The silence continued long; then were heard the words of the aged man, broken by sobs⁠—

“Quo vadis, Domine?”

Nazarius did not hear the answer; but to Peter’s ears came a sad and sweet voice, which said⁠—

“If thou desert my people, I am going to Rome to be crucified a second time.”

The Apostle lay on the ground, his face in the dust, without motion or speech. It seemed to Nazarius that he had fainted or was dead; but he rose at last, seized the staff with trembling hands, and turned without a word toward the seven hills of the city.

The boy, seeing this, repeated as an echo⁠—

“Quo vadis, Domine?”

“To Rome,” said the Apostle, in a low voice.

And he returned.

Paul, John, Linus, and all the faithful received him with amazement; and the alarm was the greater, since at daybreak, just after his departure, pretorians had surrounded Miriam’s house and searched it for the Apostle. But to every question he answered only with delight and peace⁠—

“I have seen the Lord!”

And that same evening he went to the Ostian cemetery to teach and baptize those who wished to bathe in the water of life.

And thenceforward he went there daily, and after him went increasing numbers. It seemed that out of every tear of a martyr new confessors were born, and that every