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

said,—“I was a trifle alarmed for thee. I judged that while drunk thou

hadst ruined thyself beyond redemption. Remember that thou art playing

with death.”

“That is my arena,” answered Petronius, carelessly; “and the feeling

that I am the best gladiator in it amuses me. See how it ended. My

influence has increased this evening. He will send me his verses in a

cylinder which—dost wish to lay a wager?—will be immensely rich and in

immensely bad taste. I shall command my physician to keep physic in it.

I did this for another reason,—because Tigellinus, seeing how such

things succeed, will wish surely to imitate me, and I imagine what will

happen. The moment he starts a witticism, it will be as if a bear of

the Pyrenees were rope-walking. I shall laugh like Democritus. If I

wished I could destroy Tigellinus perhaps, and become pretorian prefect

in his place, and have Ahenobarbus himself in my hands. But I am

indolent; I prefer my present life and even Cæsar’s verses to trouble.”

“What dexterity to be able to turn even blame into flattery! But are

those verses really so bad? I am no judge in those matters.”

“The verses are not worse than others. Lucan has more talent in one

finger, but in Bronzebeard too there is something. He has, above all,

an immense love for poetry and music. In two days we are to be with him

to hear the music of his hymn to Aphrodite, which he will finish to-day

or tomorrow. We shall be in a small circle,—only I, thou, Tullius

Senecio, and young Nerva. But as to what I said touching Nero’s verses,

that I use them after feasting as Vitelius does flamingo feathers, is

not true. At times they are eloquent. Hecuba’s words are touching. She

complains of the pangs of birth, and Nero was able to find happy

expressions,—for this reason, perhaps, that he gives birth to every

verse in torment. At times I am sorry for him. By Pollux, what a

marvellous mixture! The fifth stave was lacking in Caligula, but still

he never did such strange things.”

“Who can foresee to what the madness of Ahenobarbus will go?” asked

Vinicius.

“No man whatever. Such things may happen yet that the hair will stand

on men’s heads for whole centuries at thought of them. But it is that

precisely which interests me; and though I am bored more than once, like

Jupiter Ammon in the desert, I believe that under another Cæsar I should

be bored a hundred times more. Paul, thy little Jew, is eloquent,—that

I accord to him; and if people like him proclaim that religion, our gods

must defend themselves seriously, lest in time they be led away captive.

It is true that if Cæsar, for example, were a Christian, all would feel

safer. But thy prophet of Tarsus, in applying proofs to me, did not

think, seest thou, that for me this uncertainty becomes the charm of

life. Whoso does not play at dice will not lose property, but still

people play at dice. There is in that a certain delight and destruction

of the present. I have known sons of knights and senators to become

gladiators of their own will. I play with life, thou sayest, and that

is true, but I play because it pleases me; while Christian virtues would

bore me in a day, as do the discourses of Seneca. Because of this,

Paul’s eloquence is exerted in vain. He should understand that people

like me will never accept his religion. With thy disposition thou

mightst either hate the name Christian, or become a Christian

immediately. I recognize, while yawning, the truth of what they say.

We are mad. We are hastening to the precipice, something unknown is

coming toward us out of the future, something is breaking beneath us,

something is dying around us,—agreed! But we shall succeed in dying;

meanwhile we have no wish to burden life, and serve death before it

takes us. Life exists for itself alone, not for death.”

“But I pity thee, Petronius.”

“Do not pity me more than I pity myself. Formerly thou wert glad among

us; while campaigning in Armenia, thou wert longing for Rome.”

“And now I am longing for Rome.”

“True; for thou art in love with a Christian vestal, who sits in the

Trans-Tiber. I neither wonder at this, nor do I blame thee. I wonder

more, that in spite of a religion described by thee as a sea of

happiness, and in spite of a love which is soon to be crowned, sadness

has not left thy face. Pomponia Græcina is eternally pensive; from the

time of thy becoming a Christian thou hast ceased to laugh. Do not try

to persuade me that this religion is cheerful. Thou hast returned from

Rome sadder than ever. If Christians love in this way, by the bright

curls of Bacchus! I shall not imitate them!”

“That is another thing,” answered Vinicius. “I swear to thee, not by

the curls of Bacehus, but by the soul of my father, that never in times

past have I experienced even a foretaste of such happiness as I breathe

to-day. But I yearn greatly; and what is stranger, when I am far from

Lygia, I think that danger is threatening her. I know not what danger,

nor whence it may come; but I feel it, as one feels a coming tempest.”

“In two days I will try to obtain for thee permission to leave Antium,

for as long a time as may please thee. Poppæa is somewhat more quiet;

and, as far as I know, no danger from her threatens thee or Lygia.”

“This very day she asked me what I was doing in Rome, though my

departure was secret.”

“Perhaps she gave command to set spies on thee. Now, however, even she

must count with me.”

“Paul told me,” said Vinicius, “that God forewarns sometimes, but does

not permit us to believe in omens; hence I guard myself against this

belief, but I cannot ward it off. I will tell thee what happened, so as

to cast the weight from my heart. Lygia and I were sitting side by side

on a night as calm as this, and planning our future. I cannot tell thee

how happy and calm we were. All at once lions began to roar. That is

common in Rome, but since then I have no rest. It seems to me that in

that roaring there was a threat, an announcement as it were of

misfortune. Thou knowest that I am not frightened easily; that night,

however, something happened which filled all the darkness with terror.

It came so strangely and unexpectedly that I have those sounds in my

ears yet, and unbroken fear in my heart, as if Lygia were asking my

protection from something dreadful,—even from those same lions. I am

in torture. Obtain for me permission to leave Antium, or I shall go

without it. I cannot remain. I repeat to thee, I cannot!”

“Sons of consuls or their wives are not given to lions yet in the

arenas,” said Petronius, laughing. “Any other death may meet thee but

that. Who knows, besides, that they were lions? German bisons roar

with no less gentleness than lions. As to me, I ridicule omens and

fates. Last night was warm and I saw stars falling like rain. Many a

man has an evil foreboding at such a sight; but I thought, ‘If among

these is my star too, I shall not lack society at least!’” Then he was

silent, but added after a moment’s thought,—“If your Christ has risen

from the dead, He may perhaps protect you both from death.”

“He may,” answered Vinicius, looking at the heavens filled with stars.