Next morning when they met at the _jentaculum_, or breakfast, there
was a marvellous improvement in Agatha's looks. She had been the
earliest out of bed; had seen from her window, under a brilliant
sunshine, the beautiful landscape unroll itself in the various forms
which the landlady had truly though inadequately described; and she
then had run down into the garden.
In due time--that is, very soon afterward--she had been chased by
the bees, had fled, screaming and laughing, with the hood of her
_ricinium_ drawn completely over the head by way of helmet against
the terrible darts of her indignant pursuers, and had been received
in the arms of Benigna, who had heard the cry of distress and had
flown to the rescue, brandishing a long, reedy brush, like the
mosquito brushes of modern times. Rallying in a bower of trellis-work
covered with ivy, whence a wooden staircase led up to the first
floor of the house, by way of a landing or platform, over which rose
another bower clad in the same ivy mantle--facing round, I say, upon
her enemy at the foot of this staircase, she had soon ventured once
more into the garden with Benigna, and the two girls, jabbering and
cackling much, had gathered a large nosegay of autumnal flowers.
With this booty, which Benigna had made so big that Agatha could
hardly hold it in her small and elegant hands, the latter damsel
had returned to the bower, had seated herself upon a bench, and had
begun to sort the flowers in the relative positions which best showed
their tints. Here she relied upon gradation, there upon contrast.
Her delicate Greek taste in the performance of this task drew
exclamations of delight from Benigna.
"There!" the innkeeper's daughter would cry; "how pretty! That is the
way! That so, and then that, and that! They look quite different now!
Exactly! I never imagined it!"
When Agatha had finished the arrangement to her own satisfaction, an
exploit which was nimbly achieved, "Now, Benigna," said she, with her
pretty foreign accent, "sit down here; just do, and tell me all about
every thing."
Benigna stared, and Agatha proceeded,
"So you are engaged to become the wife of a very good and handsome
youth, who in himself is every thing that can be admired, except
that, poor young man! he is not very courageous, I understood you to
say. Now, that is not his fault, I suppose. How can he help feeling
afraid if he does feel afraid?"
At this moment the voice of Crispina was heard calling her daughter
to help in preparing the breakfast, and Benigna, whom Agatha's last
words had thrown into some confusion, as the same topic had done the
previous evening, made an excuse and ran away, with the light of
roses vivid in her cheeks.
Agatha remained, and looked out upon the garden, and beyond it upon
the sweet country, with its varied beauty. She remained listening
peacefully and dreamingly to the hum of bees, the twittering of
birds, the voices and footsteps in the inn, and inhaling the perfumes
of the nosegay which she had arranged, and the cool freshness of that
pleasant morning hour, when the sun behind her and behind the house
was throwing the shadows of buildings, sheds, trees, and cattle in
long lines toward the Tyrrhenian Sea. While thus calmly resting,
admiring, and musing, a lady in a dark robe of poil, (_gausapa_,)
with a very pallid face and large black eyes, stood suddenly in
the doorway of the bower, and blocked out the lovely prospect. The
stranger smiled, and, holding out a bunch of flowers, said,
"My pretty young lady, I see that the offering I have been culling
for you has lost its value. You are rich already. May I sit down in
this pleasant shady place a moment to rest?"
"Yes, you may, certainly," said Agatha.
"I suppose," resumed the stranger, "that you belong to this house, my
little friend? I am a stranger, and merely lodging--"
"We are lodging, too, and strangers," answered Agatha.
"From your accent," continued the other, "I judge you to be Greek."
"Mother is," replied Agatha; "but brother calls himself a Roman
knight, and even noble."
"I knew it!" cried the lady; "you have it written in your
countenance. I, too, am a noble lady; my name is Plancina. Have you
ever seen Rome?"
"Never."
"Ah! how you will be enchanted. You must come to see me. I have a
house in Rome; such a pretty house, full of such curious things! Ah!
when you see Rome, you will hold your breath with wonder and delight.
I will make you so happy when you come to see me in my pretty house."
"You are a very kind, good lady, I should think," quoth Agatha,
looking up from her flowers, and gazing long at the pallid face and
the large black eyes; "and if we go to Rome, I and my mother will
visit you, perhaps."
"My house is among the willows and beeches of the Viminal Hill," said
the lady. "Remember two things--_Viminal Hill_, with its beeches
and its willows, and _the Calpurnian House_, where the Piso family
have lived for generations. My husband, Piso, has had great losses
at dice. I am rich enough to spend a fortune every year for half a
century, and we have still at our house all the pleasures that can be
thought of. What pains I will take to amuse you! You cannot conceive
the splendors, dresses, games, sports, shows, and beauties of Rome;
the theatres, the circus, the combats, the great wild beasts of all
sorts from all countries, the dances--"
As she pronounced the word "dances," a youthful male voice was heard
at a little distance, saying, "While they change horses here, we will
stretch our limbs by a stroll in the garden behind the inn. Make
haste, worthy innkeeper; order your servants to be brisk."
And almost at the same moment a brilliantly beautiful, dark,
eastern-looking girl, in a Syrian costume, appeared at the entrance
of the bower. Behind her came sauntering the youth whose voice had
been heard. He was of about Paulus's age, had an olive complexion,
was sumptuously dressed, and exhibited a strong family likeness in
face to the girl. Last followed a woman in middle life, appareled in
costly robes, suited to travel, haughty, languid, and scornful of
mien.
Plancina and Agatha looked up and surveyed the new-comers. The
brilliant damsel remained at the entrance of the bower examining its
occupants with a hardy, unabashed glance; whereupon Plancina, after a
moment's pause, occasioned by the interruption, resumed and concluded
her sentence thus,
"No, you can form no idea of the gayeties of Rome; the games, the
shows, the theatres, the glories, the pleasures, the jests, the
_dances_."
"But all your good dances come from foreign lands--from the east,
indeed," interrupted the damsel, nodding her head repeatedly and
sneeringly; "you must admit that."
"Not _all our good_ alone," answered Plancina sternly, noticing that
the woman in middle life smiled approvingly at the girl who had
obtruded the remark; "not _all our good_ alone, but _all_. The office
of the outside world is to try and amuse Rome."
"And what is Rome's office?" asked the damsel.
"To be amused by them, if she can," answered the Roman.
"Come away, Herodias," said the haughty, languid, and
scornful-looking woman; and the two strolled down the middle walk of
the garden. The youth who had come with them lingered a moment or two
behind, standing in the middle of the gravel-walk and gazing straight
into the bower, while he flirted a sort of horse-whip around the
heads of one or two tall flowers which were growing outside along the
border of the walk.
Plancina looked steadily at him, and he at her. The lad withdrew
after a few moments, without a change of feature.
"What starers!" muttered Agatha.
"They have a talent for it, indeed," said Plancina. "A hardy family,
putting one thing with another. I think I know who they are. The
mother, if she were the mother, called the daughter, if she were
the daughter, Herodias. My husband thinks of going to Syria, and
indeed Tiberius has offered him the procuratorship of Judea; but he
would not condescend to go in any smaller capacity than as prefect
of Syria. An acquaintance of ours, _young Pontius Pilate_, wants
to get the procuratorship. The minor office would be a great thing
for _him_. But my husband, Piso of the Calpurnians, cannot stoop to
_that_. I may meet yonder family again."
"Those people are looking back," observed Agatha, who had paid very
little attention to her companion's speech.
Plancina rose, and, going to the entrance of the bower, honored the
strangers with a steady glance. The scornful-looking foreign woman in
sumptuous apparel met it for a moment, and then turned away. Her son
and daughter turned away at the same time.
"Ah! they are gone," murmured Agatha; "they do not like you to gaze
so at them."
"It is but a Roman," returned Plancina, "looking at barbarians. They
always shrink in that curious manner. And why this Greek lunacy?"
muttered she; "and why this Attic mania?"
"Attic what?" asked the half-Greek girl.
"Nothing, my dear," replied Plancina; "only you are not Greek, you
know; your father's race and the name you bear settle that question;
your very mother is now, and has long since become, a Roman citizen;
you must always prefer Rome to Greece; never forget that rule, or you
and yours will perish."
Agatha opened wide the ingenuous young eyes, and seemed to be most
seriously alarmed.
Plancina smoothed her pale brows, which had been frowning; and
continued with a stern smile,
"I am only giving you a friend's warning. Your mother and brother
have a suit to urge at court. There exists a pestilent Greek faction
which are all doomed to destruction; tell your mother that you must
all beware of being mixed up with them, and you will escape their
perdition. A Greek, like your mother, with something to ask, is
peculiarly liable to make the mistake of seeking Greek friends. If
she do, she is utterly lost, however powerful may seem the prince who
patronizes the accursed cabal."
Agatha shrank and trembled, murmuring like an echo Plancina's last
adjective--_exitiabilis_.
"Do not stare at me so, my little dear," continued Plancina. "There
is the Prince Germanicus. Only for him--every body knows it, and
every body says it; the thing is no secret--Piso, my husband, would
be now prefect of Syria; and like Crispus Sallust, when I was a
little girl, would have recovered ten times the fortune out of which
he has been cheated at dice. I am called a rash, violent, and an
untamable woman. The moment, however, that any body gives you any
information about court parties and political factions, every thing
I am saying will be mentioned. I do not hide my disgust. Foreign
barbarians of all sorts swarm; they creep through postern doors;
they privately influence all the destinies of that world of which
Romans have the name publicly of being masters. We are trodden
under the feet of Greeks, Jews, and Chaldeans; the first beat us by
genius, by eloquence, and artistic skill, by general intellectual
force and subtlety; the second by superstition-inspired obstinacy,
by incredible and unspeakable importunity, by steadfastness in
sordid servility, by sorcery, divination, necromancy, and delusion;
not all delusion, I grant you; for I myself have seen the demons of
Thrasyllus, the Babylonish Greek."
"What!" cried Agatha, "seen demons? And what does a Babylonish Greek
mean?"
"A Greek initiated in the Babylonish mysteries."
"And who is Thrasyllus?"
"A magician."
"What is that?"
"A man who calls demons and spirits of the air, as you would call
your pet birds, and they come to him."
"May the unknown God love me!" cried Agatha, shuddering. "What are
the demons like?"
"Not like our sculptures, believe me," answered Plancina. "I dare not
tell you; I have seen what no words can say."
She paused, shrugged her shoulders, and then added,
"Some forms were like the human, with red fire in the veins
instead of blood, and white fire in the bones instead of marrow;
eyes they possessed that had no comfort in them. They had the air
of being utterly without interest in any thing, only that their
eyes were filled with fear; yet it seemed to me with knowledge,
too: unspeakable fear, immense knowledge; wells and pools they
appeared, full of fear and knowledge. When they glanced upon you,
there were pale rays of hatred strangely combined with an expression
of indifference, fear, knowledge, and hatred. If you looked at the
eyes, when they looked not at you, you saw nothing but an expression
of fear and knowledge; but when they did look at you, you saw fear,
knowledge, and hatred too. All these faces mocked without smiling,
and scoffed without enjoyment. Something, I thought, was dripping
down the wan cheeks, and there was a look of fixed surprise long
ago, of long-past astonishment--the trace left, and the feeling
gone. The emotion of boundless amazement had once been there; the
signs of it were left all over the countenance, but, if I may so
speak, petrified--an immedicable scar, an ineffaceable vestige. The
character of the countenance was that of a dead astonishment--the
astonishment was dead; it was no longer an active sentiment. It had
been some boundless wonder; the greatest which that creature had ever
experienced, and the event which had caused it had apparently been
the most serious which that being had ever known."
"What a truly tremendous description!" exclaimed Agatha.
The other made no reply; and before any further conversation could
occur between them, a young man, in the dark-brown habiliments of a
slave, entered the garden from the inn, and after a hasty glance in
various directions, approached the bower. His features were very
good; he was well made, of a pleasing address, and had a look of
uncommon intelligence. He possessed, in a small degree, and a humble
way, that undefinable air of elegance which mental culture sheds over
the countenance; but with this advantage he betrayed certain symptoms
of awkwardness and timidity. Standing at a little distance from the
door of the arbor, he made a low bow to Plancina, and said he was the
bearer of some commands.
"Commands from whom?" she demanded.
He answered, bowing low again, by merely stating that his name was
Claudius.
Plancina instantly rose, and took leave of Agatha, enjoining her
not to forget the warnings and counsels she had given. Agatha then
saw her hastily reënter the hotel, followed by the handsome slave.
Thereupon, buoyantly recovering her spirits, which the presence and
the words of this woman had depressed, she ascended the staircase to
the landing overhead, where she was joined by her mother from the
room within.
Agatha immediately told Aglais every thing which had passed between
her and Plancina.
"I don't think, my dear child, we shall be likely to trouble her in
her nice house among the willows and beeches of the Viminal Hill,"
said Aglais; and as Paulus now came out upon the landing, a second
edition of the narrative was produced for his information.
"Germanicus," said he, "is more like the last of the Romans than
in any sense reprehensible or degenerate in his tastes. His love
for Greece and his admiration for Athens are an honor to his
understanding. They are nothing else. This has nothing to do with
preferring barbarians and barbarous influences. My education,
_edepol!_ has to be completed; but I am educated enough to know that
Rome goes for schooling to Greece as much as ever she did. Was not
Julius Cæsar himself what they call a _Græculus_? I rather think
he was even deeper than Germanicus in Greek lore; but, therefore,
all the more fitted for Roman command. The Romans continued to be
barbarians long after the Greeks had become the teachers of the
world; and were it not for Greece, they would be barbarians still.
As for warning us not to dare to make friends for ourselves of this
person or that, or of any who appreciate intellect--for this means
to appreciate Greeks--it is like warning us to remain friendless, in
order that we may the more easily be crushed. It is the wolf's advice
to the sheep, to send away her dogs; but I am more dog than that
myself. This pale, beetle-browed lady ought to have enjoined those to
be timid who know how. Dare do this! Dare do that! For my part, I am
not afraid to do any thing that I think right."
His mother pressed Paulus's hand affectionately, and his sister's
high spirit, which had cowered under the dreadful conversation of
Plancina, shone in her eyes as she smiled at him.