The Sorceress of Rome. Gallizier Nathan

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СКАЧАТЬ We live in a sorry age and it behooves us to think of the end," Roxané sighed with a mock air of contrition, which called forth a general outburst of mirth.

      "You are the very one to ponder over the most convenient mode of exit into the beyond," sneered the Lord of Gravina.

      "What have we here?" rasped Bembo. "Who dares to speak of death in this assembly?"

      "Nay, we would rather postpone the option till it finds us face to face with that villainous concoction you served us, to make us forget your more villainous poetry," shouted Oliverotto, hobbling across the hall and slapping the poet on the back. "I knew not that Roman soil produced so vile vintage!"

      "'Twas Lacrymae Christi," remonstrated Bembo. "Would you have Ambrosia with every epigram on your vileness?"

      "Nay, it was Satan's own brew," shrieked the baron, his voice strident as that of a cat, which has swallowed a fish bone.

      And Oliverotto clinked his goblet and cast amorous glances right and left out of small watery eyes.

      Bembo regarded him contemptuously.

      "By the Cross! You are touched up and painted like a wench! Everything about you is false, even to your wit! Beware, fair Roxané, – he is ogling you as a bullfrog does the stars!"

      At this stage an intermezzo interrupted the light, bantering tone of conversation. A curtain in the background parted. A bevy of black haired girls entered the hall, dressed in airy gowns, which revealed every line, every motion of their bodies. They encircled the guests in a mad whirl, inclining themselves first to one, then to the other. They were led by one, garbed as Diana, with the crescent moon upon her forehead, her black hair streaming about the whiteness of her statuesque body like dark sea-waves caressing marble cliffs. Taking advantage of this stage of the entertainment Benilo crossed the vast hall unnoticed and sat apart from the revellers in gloomy silence, listening with ill-concealed annoyance to the shouts of laughter and the clatter of irritating tongues. The characteristic wantonness of his features had at this moment given place to a look of weariness and suffering, a seemingly unaccustomed expression; it was a look of longing, the craving of a passion unsatisfied, a hope beyond his hope. Many envied him for his fame and profligacy, others read in his face the stamp of sullen cruelty, which vented itself wherever resistance seemed useless; but there was none to sound his present mood.

      Benilo had not been at his chosen spot very long, when some one touched him on the shoulder. Looking up, he found himself face to face with an individual, wrapt in a long mantle, the colour of which was a curious mixture of purple and brown. His face was shaded by a conical hat, a quaint combination of Byzantine helmet and Norse head-gear, being provided with a straight, sloping brim, which made it impossible to scrutinize his features. This personage was Hezilo, a wandering minstrel seemingly hailing from nowhere. At least no one had penetrated the mystery which enshrouded him.

      "Are you alone insensible to the charms of these?" And Benilo's interlocutor pointed to the whirling groups.

      "I was thinking of one who is absent," Benilo replied, relapsing into his former listless attitude.

      "Why not pluck the flowers that grow in your path, waiting but your will and pleasure?"

      Benilo clenched his hands till the nails were buried in the flesh.

      "Have you ever heard of an Eastern drug, which mirrors Paradise before your senses?"

      Hezilo shook his head. "What of it?"

      "He who becomes its victim is doomed irretrievably. While under its baleful spell, he is happy. Deprive him of it and the horrors of hell are upon him. No rest! No peace! And like the fiend addicted to the drug is the thrice accursed wretch who loves Theodora."

      Hezilo regarded the Chamberlain strangely.

      "Benilo deploring the inconstancy of woman," he said with noiseless laugh. Then, beckoning to one of the attendants, he took from the salver thus offered to him a goblet, which he filled with the dark crimson wine.

      "Drink and forget," he cried. "You will find it even better than your Eastern drug."

      Benilo shook his head and pushed away the proffered wine.

      "Your advice comes too late!"

      For a moment neither spoke. Benilo, busied with his own thoughts, sat listening to the boisterous clamour of the revellers, while the harper's gaze rested unseen upon him.

      After a pause he broke the silence.

      "How chanced it," he said, placing his hand affectionately on the other's shoulder, "that Benilo, who has broken all ten commandments and, withal, hearts untold, Benilo, who could have at his feet every woman in Rome, became woman's prey, her abject slave? That he is grovelling in the dust, where he might be lord and master? That he whines and whimpers, where he should command?"

      Benilo turned fiercely upon his interlocutor.

      "Who dares say that I whine and whimper and grovel at her feet? Fools all! On a mountain pass the trip is easier down than up! Know you what it means to love a woman with mad consuming passion, but to be cast aside for some blatant ass, to catch a few crumbs of favour tossed in one's face? Men like that rhyming zebra Bembo, who sings of love, which he has never felt."

      "Still you have not answered my question," said the harper with quiet persistence. "Why are you the slave where you should be the master? Theodora is whimsical, heartless, cruel; still she is a woman."

      "She is a devil, a heartless beautiful devil who grinds the hearts of men beneath her feet and laughs. Sometimes she taunts me till I could strangle her – ah! But I placed myself in the demon's power and having myself broken the compact which bound me to her, body and soul – from the lord I was, I have sunk to the slave I am, – you see, I speak free from the heart, what little she has left of it."

      The harper nodded.

      "Why not leave Rome for a time?" he said. "Your absence might soften Theodora's heart. Your sins, whatever they were, will appear less glaring in the haze of the distance."

      Benilo looked up like an infuriated tiger.

      "Has she appointed you my guardian?" he laughed harshly.

      "I have had no words with her," replied the harper. "But one with eyes to see, cannot help but sound your ailment."

      The Chamberlain relaxed.

      "The drug is in the blood," he replied wearily.

      "Then win her back, if you can," said the harper.

      Benilo clenched his hands while he glared up at the other. "It is a game between the devil and despair, and the devil has the deal."

      "A losing game for you, should either win."

      Benilo nodded.

      "I know it! Yet one single word would make me master where I am the slave."

      "And you waver?"

      "Silence!" growled Benilo. "Tempt me no more!"

      Their discourse at this point was rudely interrupted by the clamour of the guests, bent upon silencing Bembo's exuberance, whose tongue, like a ribbon in the wind, fluttered incessantly. He bore himself with the airs of some orator of antiquity, rolling his eyes until they showed the whites beneath, and beating СКАЧАТЬ