Quo Vadis by Henryk Sienkiewicz (ebook reader macos TXT) 📕

delicate hand of a master had passed over them. His complexion had lost

its former swarthiness, but the yellowish gleam of Numidian marble

remained on it. His eyes had grown larger and more pensive. His body

had retained its former powerful outlines, as if created for armor; but

above the body of a legionary was seen the head of a Grecian god, or at

least of a refined patrician, at once subtle and splendid. Petronius,

in saying that none of the ladies of Cæsar’s court would be able or

willing to resist Vinicius, spoke like a man of experience. All gazed

at him now, not excepting Poppæa, or the vestal virgin Rubria, whom

Cæsar wished to see at the feast.

Wines, cooled in mountain snow, soon warmed the hearts and heads of the

guests. Boats shaped as grasshoppers or butterflies shot forth from the

bushes at the shore every moment. The blue surface of the pond seemed

occupied by butterflies. Above the boats here and there flew doves, and

other birds from India and Africa, fastened with silver and blue threads

or strings. The sun had passed the greater part of the sky, but the day

was warm and even hot, though in the beginning of May. The pond heaved

from the strokes of oars, which beat the water in time with music; but

in the air there was not the least breath of wind; the groves were

motionless, as if lost in listening and in gazing at that which was

happening on the water. The raft circled continually on the pond,

bearing guests who were increasingly drunk and boisterous.

The feast had not run half its course yet, when the order in which all

sat at the table was observed no longer. Cæsar gave the example, for,

rising himself, he commanded Vinicius, who sat next to Rubria the

vestal, to move. Nero occupied the place, and began to whisper

something in Rubria’s ear. Vinicius found himself next to Poppæa, who

extended her arm and begged him to fasten her loosened bracelet. When

he did so, with hands trembling somewhat, she cast at him from beneath

her long lashes a glance as it were of modesty, and shook her golden

head as if in resistance.

Meanwhile the sun, growing larger, ruddier, sank slowly behind the tops

of the grove; the guests were for the greater part thoroughly

intoxicated. The raft circled now nearer the shore, on which, among

bunches of trees and flowers, were seen groups of people, disguised as

fauns or satyrs, playing on flutes, bagpipes, and drums, with groups of

maidens representing nymphs, dryads, and hamadryads. Darkness fell at

last amid drunken shouts from the tent, shouts raised in honor of Luna.

Meanwhile the groves were lighted with a thousand lamps. From the

lupanaria on the shores shone swarms of lights; on the terraces appeared

new naked groups, formed of the wives and daughters of the first Roman

houses. These with voice and unrestrained manner began to lure

partners. The raft touched the shore at last. Cæsar and the Augustians

vanished in the groves, scattered in lupanaria, in tents hidden in

thickets, in grottos artificially arranged among fountains and springs.

Madness seized all; no one knew whither Cæsar had gone; no one knew who

was a senator, who a knight, who a dancer, who a musician. Satyrs and

fauns fell to chasing nymphs with shouting. They struck lamps with

thyrses to quench them. Darkness covered certain parts of the grove.

Everywhere, however, laughter and shouts were heard, and whispers, and

panting breaths. In fact Rome had not seen anything like that before.

Vinicius was not drunk, as he had been at the feast in Nero’s palace,

when Lygia was present; but he was roused and intoxicated by the sight

of everything done round about, and at last the fever of pleasure seized

him. Rushing into the forest, he ran, with others, examining who of the

dryads seemed most beautiful. New flocks of these raced around him

every moment with shouts and with songs; these flocks were pursued by

fauns, satyrs, senators, knights, and by sounds of music. Seeing at

last a band of maidens led by one arrayed as Diana, he sprang to it,

intending to examine the goddess more closely. All at once the heart

sank in his bosom, for he thought that in that goddess, with the moon on

her forehead, he recognized Lygia.

They encircled him with a mad whirl, and, wishing evidently to incline

him to follow, rushed away the next moment like a herd of deer. But he

stood on the spot with beating heart, breathless; for though he saw that

the Diana was not Lygia, and that at close sight she was not even like

her, the too powerful impression deprived him of strength. Straightway

he was seized by such yearning as he had never felt before, and love for

Lygia rushed to his breast in a new, immense wave. Never had she seemed

so dear, pure, and beloved as in that forest of madness and frenzied

excess. A moment before, he himself wished to drink of that cup, and

share in that shameless letting loose of the senses; now disgust and

repugnance possessed him. He felt that infamy was stifling him; that

his breast needed air and the stars which were hidden by the thickets of

that dreadful grove. He determined to flee; but barely had he moved

when before him stood some veiled figure, which placed its hands on his

shoulders and whispered, flooding his face with burning breath, “I

love thee! Come! no one will see us, hasten!”

Vinicius was roused, as if from a dream.

“Who art thou?”

But she leaned her breast on him and insisted,—“Hurry! See how lonely

it is here, and I love thee! Come!”

“Who art thou?” repeated Vinicius.

“Guess!”

As she said this, she pressed her lips to his through the veil, drawing

toward her his head at the same time, till at last breath failed the

woman and she tore her face from him.

“Night of love! night of madness!” said she, catching the air quickly.

“Today is free! Thou hast me!”

But that kiss burned Vinicius; it filled him with disquiet. His soul

and heart were elsewhere; in the whole world nothing existed for him

except Lygia. So, pushing back the veiled figure, he said,—

“Whoever thou be, I love another, I do not wish thee.”

“Remove the veil,” said she, lowering her head toward him.

At that moment the leaves of the nearest myrtle began to rustle; the

veiled woman vanished like a dream vision, but from a distance her laugh

was heard, strange in some way, and ominous.

Petronius stood before Vinicius.

“I have heard and seen,” said he.

“Let us go from this place,” replied Vinicius.

And they went. They passed the lupanaria gleaming with light, the

grove, the line of mounted pretorians, and found the litters.

“I will go with thee,” said Petronius.

They sat down together. On the road both were silent, and only in the

atrium of Vinicius’s house did Petronius ask,—“Dost thou know who that

was?”

“Was it Rubria?” asked Vinicius, repulsed at the very thought that

Rubria was a vestal.

“No.”

“Who then?”

Petronius lowered his voice. “The fire of Vesta was defiled, for Rubria

was with Cæsar. But with thee was speaking”—and he finished in a still

lower voice, “the divine Augusta.”

A moment of silence followed.

“Cæsar,” said Petronius, “was unable to hide from Poppæa his desire for

Rubria; therefore she wished, perhaps, to avenge herself. But I hindered

you both. Hadst thou recognized the Augusta and refused her, thou

wouldst have been ruined beyond rescue,—thou, Lygia, and I, perhaps.”

“I have enough of Rome, Cæsar, feasts, the Augusta, Tigellinus, and all

of you!” burst out Vinicius. “I am stifling. I cannot live thus; I

cannot. Dost understand me?”

“Vinicius, thou art losing sense, judgment, moderation.”

“I love only her in this world.”

“What of that?”

“This, that I wish no other love. I have no wish for your life, your

feasts, your shamelessness, your crimes!”

“What is taking place in thee? Art thou a Christian?”

The young man seized his head with both hands, and repeated, as if in

despair,—“Not yet! not yet!”