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

blows from the Sabine Hill.”

The hour had come now in which he must think of his own safety, for the

river of fire was flowing nearer and nearer from the direction of the

island, and rolls of smoke covered the alley almost completely. The

taper, which had lighted him in the house, was quenched from the current

of air. Vinicius rushed to the street, and ran at full speed toward the

Via Portuensis, whence he had come; the fire seemed to pursue him with

burning breath, now surrounding him with fresh clouds of smoke, now

covering him with sparks, which fell on his hair, neck, and clothing.

The tunic began to smoulder on him in places; he cared not, but ran

forward lest he might be stifled from smoke. He had the taste of soot

and burning in his mouth; his throat and lungs were as if on fire. The

blood rushed to his head, and at moments all things, even the smoke

itself, seemed red to him. Then he thought: “This is living fire!

Better cast myself on the ground and perish.” The running tortured him

more and more. His head, neck, and shoulders were streaming with sweat,

which scalded like boiling water. Had it not been for Lygia’s name,

repeated by him in thought, had it not been for her capitium, which he

wound across his mouth, he would have fallen. Some moments later he

failed to recognize the street along which he ran. Consciousness was

leaving him gradually; he remembered only that he must flee, for in the

open field beyond waited Lygia, whom Peter had promised him. And all at

once he was seized by a certain wonderful conviction, half feverish,

like a vision before death, that he must see her, marry her, and then

die.

But he ran on as if drunk, staggering from one side of the street to the

other. Meanwhile something changed in that monstrous conflagration

which had embraced the giant city. Everything which till then had only

glimmered, burst forth visibly into one sea of flame; the wind had

ceased to bring smoke. That smoke which had collected in the streets

was borne away by a mad whirl of heated air. That whirl drove with it

millions of sparks, so that Vinicius was running in a fiery cloud as it

were. But he was able to see before him all the better, and in a

moment, almost when he was ready to fall, he saw the end of the street.

That sight gave him fresh strength. Passing the corner, he found

himself in a street which led to the Via Portuensis and the Codetan

Field. The sparks ceased to drive him. He understood that if he could

run to the Via Portuensis he was safe, even were he to faint on it.

At the end of the street he saw again a cloud, as it seemed, which

stopped the exit. “If that is smoke,” thought he, “I cannot pass.” He

ran with the remnant of his strength. On the way he threw off his

tunic, which, on fire from the sparks, was burning him like the shirt of

Nessus, having only Lygia’s capitium around his head and before his

mouth. When he had run farther, he saw that what he had taken for smoke

was dust, from which rose a multitude of cries and voices.

“The rabble are plundering houses,” thought Vinicius. But he ran toward

the voices. In every case people were there; they might assist him. In

this hope he shouted for aid with all his might before he reached them.

But this was his last effort. It grew redder still in his eyes, breath

failed his lungs, strength failed his bones; he fell.

They heard him, however, or rather saw him. Two men ran with gourds

full of water. Vinicius, who had fallen from exhaustion but had not

lost consciousness, seized a gourd with both hands, and emptied one-half

of it.

“Thanks,” said he; “place me on my feet, I can walk on alone.”

The other laborer poured water on his head; the two not only placed him

on his feet, but raised him from the ground, and carried him to the

others, who surrounded him and asked if he had suffered seriously. This

tenderness astonished Vinicius.

“People, who are ye?” asked he.

“We are breaking down houses, so that the fire may not reach the Via

Portuensis,” answered one of the laborers.

“Ye came to my aid when I had fallen. Thanks to you.”

“We are not permitted to refuse aid,” answered a number of voices.

Vinicius, who from early morning had seen brutal crowds, slaying and

robbing, looked with more attention on the faces around him, and said,—

“May Christ reward you.”

“Praise to His name!” exclaimed a whole chorus of voices.

“Linus?” inquired Vinicius.

But he could not finish the question or hear the answer, for he fainted

from emotion and over-exertion. He recovered only in the Codetan Field

in a garden, surrounded by a number of men and women. The first words

which he uttered were,—

“Where is Linus?”

For a while there was no answer; then some voice, known to Vinicius,

said all at once,—

“He went out by the Nomentan Gate to Ostrianum two days ago. Peace be

with thee, O king of Persia!”

Vinicius rose to a sitting posture, and saw Chilo before him.

“Thy house is burned surely, O lord,” said the Greek, “for the Carinæ is

in flames; but thou wilt be always as rich as Midas. Oh, what a

misfortune! The Christians, O son of Serapis, have predicted this long

time that fire would destroy the city. But Linus, with the daughter of

Jove, is in Ostrianum. Oh, what a misfortune for the city!”

Vinicius became weak again.

“Hast thou seen them?” he inquired.

“I saw them, O lord. May Christ and all the gods be thanked that I am

able to pay for thy benefactions with good news. But, O Cyrus, I shall

pay thee still more, I swear by this burning Rome.”

It was evening, but in the garden one could see as in daylight, for the

conflagration had increased. It seemed that not single parts of the

city were burning, but the whole city through the length and the breadth

of it. The sky was red as far as the eye could see it, and that night

in the world was a red night.