Neæra. A Tale of Ancient Rome. Graham John William

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      In spite of himself; in spite of the numberless plausible tales and previous disappointments, Fabricius felt his heart beat violently, and a tremor seize his limbs. Cestus’s small keen eyes noted the change of colour on his cheek.

      ‘Fourteen years!’ murmured Fabricius to himself; ‘right almost to the very month; how could he know that if – alas, my little darling – my little Aurelia! shall I be fooled again?’

      ‘I pray you, Fabricius, be speedy, out of pity for my poor comrade,’ urged Cestus; ‘he will soon be beyond reach. It was a sore sin against you, but your nobleness will pardon a dying man. And besides, you will forgive me, noble sir, for offering a suggestion of my own; if Lupus departs without seeing you, you may thus lose all chance of ever getting your lost grandchild again. Ah me, that one could do such a deed as rob a house of its sunshine for the sake of a few paltry sestertia!’

      This was uttered in a sighing kind of sotto voce, and the old Senator, racked with doubt and eagerness, with hope and the fear of oft-repeated disappointment and disgust, passed his hand over his brow in poignant doubtfulness.

      ‘Go to the Esquiline to my nephew – but no! I forgot; his Greek boy came hither t’other day to say he was going to Tibur for a space. Phœbus aid me! Where does this comrade of thine dwell?’

      ‘Not far away, so please you,’ answered Cestus; ‘on the other side of the Aventine, nigh to the Ostian road.’

      ‘It is late,’ muttered Fabricius.

      ‘It is,’ observed the friend of Lupus, ‘but Death is not particular as to time. In fact he seems to prefer the night-time. If Lupus live past midnight I shall wonder. Imagine, noble sir, a block of marble crushing poor flesh and bone – ugh, ’tis terrible!’

      ‘You saw it?’

      ‘I did – worse luck.’

      ‘You are a labourer like him?’

      ‘I am – see!’

      The worthy labourer showed his hands. They had been specially rubbed and engrained with dirt before washing. So cleverly were they prepared, that they might have belonged to any hard-handed son of toil.

      ‘Did your comrade never tell you of this theft before?’

      ‘Never.’

      ‘And what does he deserve, think you, if he have done as he says?’ said Fabricius, speaking with agitation; ‘taking away what to me was more precious than life itself. What harm had I ever done him? To sell the sweet child for a slave – oh!’

      ‘’Twas a crime indeed, and no fate too hard for him,’ observed Cestus. ‘But haste, I beseech you! The poor devil is dying; have pity on him, and serve yourself as well; for, as like as not, you may get your maid again. ’Tis all plain to me now. When I first knew Lupus, some twenty years ago, he was as blithe a fellow as ever stepped; and then he began to change. Ay, ay! It is plain enough to see now what weighed upon him.’

      ‘Humph; do you say so?’

      ‘That is easily vouched for by others than myself. Will you not come? or must I go back and tell him – ’

      ‘Faith, I am distraught. I know not – ’

      ‘’Tis scarcely likely he would die with a lie on his lips, noble sir.’

      ‘I will go with you,’ said Fabricius, with a sudden determination. ‘Go to the porch and wait! Natta, haste! Bid Pannicus, Cyrrha, and Crotus take their staves and go forth with me to the Aventine. Fetch me my cloak and cap!’

      ‘What, now – to-night?’ demanded the astonished slave, who ran in at his master’s call.

      ‘Yes, now, this minute – haste!’

      Now that his mind was made up the old man was burning with eagerness, and, ere long, he and his slaves were ready to depart.

      In the meantime Cestus went to the porch and stood on the outer step. The moon was rising behind some heavy cloud-banks, and her effulgence shone dimly through the rifts. The great city lay stretched below, with its gleams peeping through the hazy gloom. In the uncertain light a form crept noiselessly up to the pillars of the porch, and whispered to the Suburan standing there.

      ‘Well, is he coming?’

      ‘Yes – take care; he is here!’ replied Cestus, and the figure glided back into obscurity.

      Fabricius, followed by the three slaves bearing lanterns, came forth.

      ‘It is moonlight, Fabricius – the lanterns will be rather a hindrance than otherwise,’ observed Cestus.

      ‘It is moonlight truly, but not much as yet,’ answered Fabricius; ‘so until it mends we will carry our own light with us. Lead on, good fellow, with Pannicus, and we three will follow.’

      Cestus did as he was told, cursing the lanterns in his heart. Pannicus walked by his side. Far enough behind to escape observation, the cloaked form, which had spoken to Cestus, dogged their steps like a stealthy tiger. They passed down the hill and through the Transtibertine district to the river. After crossing the Sublician Bridge they proceeded to the gate of the Servian rampart called Trigemina, and then ascended the Aventine Mount by the Publician Road.

      In the earlier times of the city this hill had been regarded as ill-omened. It had been occupied chiefly by plebeian families, but now was becoming more fashionable, following, as already said, the inevitable rule of the wealthy classes seizing upon the most elevated and pleasant situations, as the city waxed great. At the head of the upward road Fabricius and his party passed the temple of Juno Regina, which Camillus had built after his conquest of Veii. The three lanterns of the slaves were undesirable accompaniments, in the estimation of Cestus, so he rapidly hit upon a plan which might lead to their extinguishment. Fortune favoured him as they passed the temple of the famous conqueror. The moon glanced out with her silver-bright disc from behind the sharp edge of a black cloud, and bathed the columns of the temple, as well as every object around, in a flood of splendour. The obnoxious lanterns, with their smoky, yellow glare, were useless, and a contrast to the pure brightness around. The moment was opportune. Pannicus the slave, walking on the left of Cestus, carried his lantern hanging down at the full length of his right arm. As the moonbeams fell to the earth, Cestus purposely slipped with his left foot, and falling across his companion’s path, dashed the lantern out of his hand to the ground, where it instantly became dark.

      ‘My ankle seemed to turn on some cursed stone,’ said Cestus, as he gathered himself up, rubbing his elbows and knees.

      Fabricius inquired if he was hurt.

      ‘No, not much – nothing that I can feel yet, save a bit of a shake.’

      Pannicus took his lantern to his fellow-slaves to have it relit.

      ‘Never mind the lantern, man! Who wants candles with such a light as this Diana gives us?’ cried Cestus, with a parting rub at his dusty clothes, – ‘come, we can see better without.’

      ‘I think so,’ remarked Fabricius quietly, and the remaining two lanterns were extinguished.

      The road began to descend again toward the valley. In some places it was cut through the rock, more or less deeply, and at one particular spot it passed through a grove of trees. The chiselled rock, which walled the СКАЧАТЬ