THE FALSE LOVE.
Fie, fie, upon her;
There’s a language in her eye, her cheek, her lip;
Nay, her foot speaks, her wanton spirits look out
At every joint and motive of her body.
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
About three hours later than the scene in the Campus Martius, which had
occurred a little after noon, Catiline was standing richly dressed in a
bright saffron(13) robe, something longer than the ordinary tunic,
flowered with sprigs of purple, in the inmost chamber of the woman’s
apartments, in his own heavily mortgaged mansion. His wife, Aurelia
Orestilla, sat beside him on a low stool, a woman of the most superb and
queenly beauty—for whom it was believed that he had plunged himself into
the deepest guilt—and still, although past the prime of Italian womanhood,
possessing charms that might well account for the most insane passion.
A slave was listening with watchful and half terrified attention to the
injunctions of his lord—for Catiline was an unscrupulous and severe
master—and, as he ceased speaking, he made a deep genuflexion and retired.
No sooner had he gone than Catiline turned quickly to the lady, whose
lovely face wore some marks of displeasure, and said rather shortly,
"You have not gone to her, my Aurelia. There is no time to lose; the young
man will be here soon, and if they meet, ere you have given her the cue,
all will be lost."
"I do not like it, my Sergius," said the woman, rising, but making no
movement to leave the chamber.
"And why not, I beseech you, madam?" he replied angrily; "or what is there
in that which I desire you to tell the girl to do, that you have not done
twenty times yourself, and Fulvia, and Sempronia, and half Rome’s noblest
ladies? Tush! I say, tush! go do it."
"She is my daughter, Sergius," answered Aurelia, in a tone of deep
tenderness; "a daughter’s honor must be something to every mother!"
"And a son’s life to every father!" said Catiline with a fierce sneer. "I
had a son once, I remember. You wished to enter an (14)_empty_ house on
the day of your marriage feast. I do not think you found him in your way!
Besides, for honor—if I read Lucia’s eyes rightly, there is not much of
that to emperil."
When he spoke of his son, she covered her face in her richly jewelled
hands, and a slight shudder shook her whole frame. When she looked up
again, she was pale as death, and her lips quivered as she asked—
"Must I, then? Oh! be merciful, my Sergius."
"You must, Aurelia!" he replied sternly, "and that now. Our fortunes, nay,
our lives, depend on it!"
"_All_—must she give all, Lucius?"
"All that he asks! But fear not, he shall wed her, when our plans shall be
crowned with triumph!"
"Will you swear it?"
"By all the Gods! he shall! by all the Furies, if you will, by Earth, and
Heaven, and Hades!"
"I will go," she replied, something reassured, "and prepare her for the
task!"
"The task!" he muttered with his habitual sneer. "Daintily worded, fair
one; but it will not, I fancy, prove a hard one; Paullus is young and
handsome; and our soft Lucia has, methinks, something of her mother’s
yielding tenderness."
"Do you reproach me with it, Sergius?"
"Nay! rather I adore thee for it, loveliest one; but go and prepare our
Lucia." Then, as she left the room, the dark scowl settled down on his
black brow, and he clinched his hand as he said—
"She waxes stubborn—let her beware! She is not half so young as she was;
and her beauty wanes as fast as my passion for it; let her beware how she
crosses me!"
While he was speaking yet a slave entered, and announced that Paullus
Cæcilius Arvina had arrived, and Curius, and the noble Fulvia; and as he
received the tidings the frown passed away from the brow of the
conspirator, and putting on his mask of smooth, smiling dissimulation, he
went forth to meet his guests.
They were assembled in the tablinum, or saloon, Arvina clad in a violet
colored tunic, sprinkled with flowers in their natural hues, and Curius—a
slight keen-looking man, with a wild, proud expression, giving a sort of
interest to a countenance haggard from the excitement of passion, in one
of rich crimson, fringed at the wrists and neck with gold. Fulvia, his
paramour, a woman famed throughout Rome alike for her licentiousness and
beauty, was hanging on his arm, glittering with chains and carcanets, and
bracelets of the costliest gems, in her fair bosom all too much displayed
for a matron’s modesty; on her round dazzling arms; about her swan-like
neck; wreathed in the profuse tresses of her golden hair—for she was that
unusual and much admired being, an Italian blonde—and, spanning the
circumference of her slight waist. She was, indeed, a creature exquisitely
bright and lovely, with such an air of mild and angelic candor pervading
her whole face, that you would have sworn her the most innocent, the
purest of her sex. Alas! that she was indeed almost the vilest! that she
was that rare monster, a woman, who, linked with every crime and baseness
that can almost unsex a woman, preserves yet in its height, one eminent
and noble virtue, one half-redeeming trait amidst all her infamy, in her
proud love of country! Name, honor, virtue, conscience, womanhood, truth,
piety, all, all, were sacrificed to her rebellious passions. But to her
love of country she could have sacrificed those very passions! That frail
abandoned wretch was still a Roman—might have been in a purer age a
heroine of Rome’s most glorious.
"Welcome, most lovely Fulvia," exclaimed the host, gliding softly into the
room. "By Mars! the most favored of immortals! You must have stolen
Aphrodite’s cestus! Saw you her ever look so beautiful, my Paullus? You do
well to put those sapphires in your hair, for they wax pale and dim
besides the richer azure of your eyes; and the dull gold in which they are
enchased sets off the sparkling splendor of your tresses. What, Fulvia,
know you not young Arvina—one of the great Cæcilii? By Hercules! my
Curius, he won the best of the quinquertium from such competitors as
Victor and Aristius Fuscus, and ran twelve stadii, with the heaviest
breast-plate and shield in the armory, quicker than it has been performed
since the days of Licinius Celer. I prithee, know, and cherish him, my
friends, for I would have him one of us. In truth I would, my Paullus."
The flattering words of the tempter, and the more fascinating smiles and
glances of the bewitching siren, were not thrown away on the young noble;
and these, with the soft perfumed atmosphere, the splendidly voluptuous
furniture of the saloon, and the delicious music, which was floating all
the while upon his ears from the blended instruments and voices of unseen
minstrels, conspired to plunge his senses into a species of effeminate and
luxurious languor, which suited well the ulterior views of Catiline.
"One thing alone has occurred," resumed the host, after some moments spent
in light jests and trivial conversation, "to decrease our pleasure:
Cethegus was to have dined with us to-day, and Decius Brutus, with his
inimitable wife Sempronia. But they have disappointed us; and, save
Aurelia only, and our poor little Lucia, there will be none but ourselves
to eat my Umbrian boar."
"Have you a boar, my Sergius?" exclaimed Curius, eagerly, who was addicted
to the pleasures of the table, almost as much as the charms of women. "By
Pan, the God of Hunters! we are in luck to-day!"
"But wherefore comes not Sempronia?" inquired Fulvia, not very much
displeased by the absence of a rival beauty.
"Brutus is called away, it appears, suddenly to Tarentum upon business;
and she"—
"Prefers entertaining our Cethegus, alone in her own house, I fancy,"
interrupted Fulvia.
"Exactly so," replied Catiline, with a smile of meaning.
"Happy Cethegus," said Arvina.
"Do you think her so handsome?" asked Fulvia, favoring him with one of her
most melting glances.
"The handsomest woman," he replied, "with but one exception, I ever had
the luck to look upon."
"Indeed!—and pray, who is the exception?" asked the lady, very tartly.
There happened to be lying on a marble slab, near to the place where they
were standing, a small round mirror of highly polished steel, set in a
frame of tortoiseshell and gold. Paullus had noticed it before she spoke;
and taking it up without a moment’s pause, he raised it to her face.
"Look!" he said, "look into that, and blush at your question."
"Prettily said, my Paullus; thy wit is as fleet as thy foot is speedy,"
said the conspirator.
"Flatterer!" whispered the lady, evidently much delighted; and then, in a
lower voice she added, "Do you indeed think so?"
"Else may I never hope."
But at this moment the curtains were drawn aside, and Orestilla entered
from the gallery of the peristyle, accompanied by her daughter Lucia.
The latter was a girl of about eighteen years old, and of appearance so
remarkable, that she must not be passed unnoticed. In person she was
extremely tall and slender, and at first sight you would have supposed her
thin; until the wavy outlines of the loose robe of plain white linen which
she wore, undulating at every movement of her form, displayed the
exquisite fulness of her swelling bust, and the voluptuous roundness of
all her lower limbs. Her arms, which were bare to the shoulders, where her
gown was fastened by two studs of gold, were quite unadorned, by any gem
or bracelet, and although beautifully moulded, were rather slender than
full.
Her face did not at first sight strike you more than her person, as being
beautiful; for it was singularly still and inexpressive when at
rest—although all the features were fine and classically regular—and was
almost unnaturally pale and hueless. The mouth only, had any thing of
warmth, or color, or expression; and what expression there was, was not
pleasing, for although soft and winning, it was sensual to the last
degree.
Her manner, however, contradicted this; for she slided into the circle,
with downcast eyes, the long dark silky lashes only visible in relief
against the marble paleness of her cheek, as if she were ashamed to raise
them from the ground; her whole air being that of a girl oppressed with
overwhelming bashfulness, to an extent almost painful.
"Why, what is this, Aurelia," exclaimed Catiline, as if he were angry,
although in truth the whole thing was carefully preconcerted. "Wherefore
is Lucia thus strangely clad? Is it, I pray you, in scorn of our noble
guests, that she wears only this plain morning stola?"
"Pardon her, I beseech you, good my Sergius," answered his wife, with a
painfully simulated smile; "you know how over-timid she is and bashful;
she had determined not to appear at dinner, had I not laid my commands on
her. Her very hair, you see, is not braided."
"Ha! this is ill done, my girl Lucia," answered Catiline. "What will my
young friend, Arvina, think of you, who comes hither to-day, for the first
time? For Curius and our lovely Fulvia, I care not so much, seeing they
know your whims; but I am vexed, indeed, that Paullus should behold you
thus in disarray, with your hair thus knotted like a slave girl’s, on your
neck."
"Like a Dryad’s, rather, or shy Oread’s of Diana’s train—beautiful hair!"
replied the youth, whose attention had been called to the girl by this
conversation; and who, having thought her at first unattractive rather
than otherwise, had now discovered the rare beauties of her lythe and
slender figure, and detected, as he thought, a world of passion in her
serpent-like and sinuous motions.
She raised her eyes to meet his slowly, as he spoke; gazed into them for
one moment, and then, as if ashamed of what she had done, dropped them
again instantly; while a bright crimson flush shot like a stream of lava
over her pallid face, and neck, and arms; yes, her arms blushed, and her
hands to the finger ends! It was but one moment, that those large lustrous
orbs looked full into his, swimming in liquid Oriental languor, yet
flashing out beams of consuming fire.
Yet Paullus Arvina felt the glance, like an electrical influence, through
every nerve and artery of his body, and trembled at its power.
It was a minute before he could collect himself enough to speak to her,
for all the rest had moved away a little, and left them standing together;
and when he did so, his voice faltered, and his manner was so much
agitated, that she must have been blind, indeed, and stupid, not to
perceive it.
And Lucia was not blind nor stupid. No! by the God of Love! an universe of
wild imaginative intellect, an ocean of strange whirling thoughts, an Etna
of fierce and fiery passions, lay buried beneath that calm, bashful,
almost awkward manner. Many bad thoughts were there, many unmaidenly
imaginings, many ungoverned and most evil passions; but there was also
much that was partly good; much that might have been all good, and high
and noble, had it been properly directed; but alas! as much pains had been
taken to corrupt and deprave that youthful understanding, and to inflame
those nascent passions, as are devoted by good parents to developing the
former, and repressing the growth of the latter.
As it was, self indulged, and indulged by others, she was a creature of
impulse entirely, ill regulated and ungovernable.
Intended from the first to be a tool in his own hands, whenever he might
think fit to use her, she had in no case hitherto run counter to the views
of Catiline; because, so long as his schemes were agreeable to her
inclinations, and favorable to her pleasures, she was quite willing to be
his tool; though by no means unconscious of the fact that he meant her to
be such.
What might be the result should his wishes cross her own, the arch
conspirator had never given himself the pains to enquire; for, like the
greater part of voluptuaries, regarding women as mere animals, vastly
inferior in mind and intellect to men, he had entirely overlooked her
mental qualifications, and fancied her a being of as small moral capacity,
as he knew her to be of strong physical organization.
He was mistaken; as wise men often are, and deeply, perhaps fatally.
There was not probably a girl in all Italy, in all the world, who would so
implicitly have followed his directions, as long as to do so gratified her
passions, and clashed not with her indomitable will, to the sacrifice of
all principle, and with the most total disregard of right or wrong, as
Lucia Orestilla; but certainly there was not one, who would have resisted
commands, threats, violence, more pertinaciously or dauntlessly, than the
same Lucia, should her will and his councils ever be set at twain.
While Paullus was yet conversing in an under tone with this strange girl,
and becoming every moment more and more fascinated by the whole tone of
her remarks, which were free, and even bold, as contrasted with the
bashful air and timid glances which accompanied them, the curtains of the
Tablinum were drawn apart, and a soft symphony of flutes stealing in from
the atrium, announced that the dinner was prepared.
"My Curius," exclaimed Catiline, "I must entreat you to take charge of
Fulvia; I had proposed myself that pleasure, intending that you should
escort Sempronia, and Decius my own Orestilla; but, as it is, we will each
abide by his own lady; and Paullus here will pardon the youth and rawness
of my Lucia."
"By heaven! I would wish nothing better," said Curius, taking Fulvia by
the hand, and leading her forward. "Should you, Arvina?"
"Not I, indeed," replied Paullus, "if Lucia be content." And he looked to
catch her eye, as he took her soft hand in his own, but her face remained
cold and pale as marble, and her eye downcast.
As they passed out, however, into the fauces, or passage leading to the
dining-room, Catiline added,
"As we are all, I may say, one family and party, I have desired the slaves
to spread couches only; the ladies will recline with us, instead of
sitting at the board."
At this moment, did Paullus fancy it? or did that beautiful pale girl
indeed press his fingers in her own? he could not be mistaken; and yet
there was the downcast eye, the immoveable cheek, and the unsmiling aspect
of the rosy mouth. But he returned the pressure, and that so
significantly, that she at least could not be mistaken; nor was she, for
her eye again met his, with that deep amorous languid glance; was
bashfully withdrawn; and then met his again, glancing askance through the
dark fringed lids, and a quick flashing smile, and a burning blush
followed; and in a second’s space she was again as cold, as impassive as a
marble statue.
They reached the triclinium, a beautiful oblong apartment, gorgeously
painted with arabesques of gold and scarlet upon a deep azure ground work.
A circular table, covered with a white cloth, bordered with a deep edge of
purple and deeper fringe of gold, stood in the centre, and around it three
couches, nearly of the same height with the board, each the segment of a
circle, the three forming a horse-shoe.
The couches were of the finest rosewood, inlaid with tortoiseshell and
ivory and brass, strewed with the richest tapestries, and piled with
cushions glowing with splendid needlework. And over all, upheld by richly
moulded shafts of Corinthian bronze, was a canopy of Tyrian purple,
tasselled and fringed with gold.
The method of reclining at the table was, that the guests should place
themselves on the left side, propped partly by the left elbow and partly
by a pile of cushions; each couch being made to contain in general three
persons, the head of the second coming immediately below the right arm of
the first, and the third in like manner; the body of each being placed
transversely, so as to allow space for the limbs of the next below in
front of him.
The middle place on each couch was esteemed the most honorable; and the
middle couch of the three was that assigned to guests of the highest rank,
the master of the feast, for the most, occupying the central position on
the third or left hand sofa. The slaves stood round the outer circuit of
the whole, with the cupbearers; but the carver, and steward, if he might
so be termed, occupied that side of the table which was left open to their
attendance.
On this occasion, there being but six guests in all, each gentleman
assisted the lady under his charge to recline, with her head comfortably
elevated, near the centre of the couch; and then took his station behind
her, so that, if she leaned back, her head would rest on his bosom, while
he was enabled himself to reach the table, and help himself or his fair
partner, as need might be, to the delicacies offered in succession.
Curius and Fulvia, he as of senatorial rank, and she as a noble matron,
occupied the highest places; Paullus and Lucia reclined on the right hand
couch, and Catiline with Orestilla in his bosom, as the phrase ran, on the
left.
No sooner were they all placed, and the due libation made of wine, with an
offering of salt, to the domestic Gods—a silver group of statues occupying
the centre of the board, where we should now place the _plateau_ and
_epergne_, than a louder burst of music ushered in three beautiful female
slaves, in succinct tunics, like that seen in the sculptures of Diana,
with half the bosom bare, dancing and singing, and carrying garlands in
their hands of roses and myrtle, woven with strips of the philyra, or
inner bark of the linden tree, which was believed to be a specific against
intoxication. Circling around the board, in time to the soft music, they
crowned each of the guests, and sprinkled with rich perfumes the garments
and the hair of each; and then with more animated and eccentric gestures,
as the note of the flute waxed shriller and more piercing, they bounded
from the banquet hall, and were succeeded by six boys with silver basins,
full of tepid water perfumed with costly essences, and soft embroidered
napkins, which they handed to every banqueter to wash the hands before
eating.
This done, the music died away into a low faint close, and was silent; and
in the hush that followed, an aged slave bore round a mighty flask of
Chian wine, diluted with snow water, and replenished the goblets of
stained glass, which stood beside each guest; while another dispensed
bread from a lordly basket of wrought gilded scroll work.
And now the feast commenced, in earnest; as the first course, consisting
of fresh eggs boiled hard, with lettuce, radishes, endive and rockets,
olives of Venafrum, anchovies and sardines, and the choicest luxury of the
day—hot sausages served upon gridirons of silver, with the rich gravy
dripping through the bars upon a sauce of Syrian prunes and pomegranate
berries—was placed upon the board.
For a time there was little conversation beyond the ordinary courtesies of
the table, and such trifling jests as were suggested by occurrences of the
moment. Yet still in the few words that passed from time to time, Paullus
continued often to convey his sentiments to Lucia in words of double
meaning; keenly marked, it is true, but seemingly unobserved by the wily
plotter opposite; and more than once in handing her the goblet, or loading
her plate with dainties, he took an opportunity again and again of
pressing her not unwilling hand. And still at every pressure he caught
that soft momentary glance, was it of love and passion, or of mere
coquetry and girlish wantonness, succeeded by the fleeting blush pervading
face, neck, arms, and bosom.
Never had Paullus been so wildly fascinated; his heart throbbed and
bounded as if it would have burst his breast; his head swam with a sort of
pleasurable dizziness; his eyes were dim and suffused; and he scarce knew
that he was talking, though he was indeed the life of the whole company,
voluble, witty, versatile, and at times eloquent, so far as the topics of
the day gave room for eloquence.
And now, to the melody of Lydian lutes, two slaves introduced a huge
silver dish, loaded by the vast brawn of the Umbrian boar, garnished with
leaves of chervil, and floating in a rich sauce of anchovies, the dregs of
Coan wine, white pepper, vinegar, and olives. The carver brandished his
knife in graceful and fantastic gestures, proud of his honorable task; and
as he plunged it into the savory meat, and the delicious savor rushed up
to his nostrils, he laid down the blade, spread out his hands in an
ecstacy, and cried aloud, "ye Gods, how glorious!"
"Excellent well, my Glycon," cried Curius, delighted with the expressive
pantomine of the well skilled Greek; "smells it so savory?"
"I have carved many a boar from Lucania and from Umbria also; to say
nothing of those from the Laurentian marshes, which are bad, seeing that
they are fed on reeds only and marsh grass; most noble Curius; and never
put I knife into such an one as this. There are two inches on it of pure
fat, softer than marrow. He was fed upon holm acorns, I’ll be sworn, and
sweet chesnuts, and caught in a mild south wind!"
"Fewer words, you scoundrel," exclaimed Catiline, laughing at the fellow’s
volubility, "and quicker carving, if you wish not to visit the pistrinum.
You have set Curius’ mouth watering, so that he will be sped with longing,
before you have helped Fulvia and your mistress. Fill up, you knaves, fill
up; nay! not the Chian now; the Falernian from the Faustian hills, or the
Cæcuban? Which shall it be, my Curius?"
"The Cæcuban, by all the Gods! I hold it the best vintage ever, and yours
is curious. Besides, the Falernian is too dry to drink before the meat.
Afterward, if, as Glycon says, the boar hath a flavor of the south, it
will be excellent, indeed."
"Are as you as constant, Paullus, in your love for the boar, as these
other epicures?" cried Fulvia, who, despite the depreciating tone in which
she spoke, had sent her own plate for a second slice.
"No! by the Gods! Fulvia," he replied, "I am but a sorry epicure, and I
love the boar better in his reedy fen, or his wild thicket on the Umbrian
hills, with his eye glaring red in rage, and his tusks white with foam,
than girt with condiments and spices upon a golden dish."
"A strange taste," said Curius, "I had for my part rather meet ten on the
dining table, than one in the oak woods."
"Commend me to the boar upon the table likewise," said Catiline; "still,
with my friend Arvina at my side, and a good boarspear in my hand, I would
like well to bide the charge of a tusker! It is rare sport, by Hercules!"
"Wonderful beings you men are," said Fulvia, mincing her words affectedly,
"ever in search of danger; ever on the alert to kill; to shed blood, even
if it be your own! by Juno, I cannot comprehend it."
"I can, I can," cried Lucia, raising her voice for the first time, so that
it could be heard by any others than her nearest neighbor; "right well can
I comprehend it; were I a man myself, I feel that I should pant for the
battle. The triumph would be more than rapture; and strife, for its own
sake, maddening bliss! Heavens! to see the gladiators wheel and charge; to
see their swords flash in the sun; and the red blood gush out unheeded;
and the grim faces flushed and furious; and the eyes greedily devouring
the wounds of the foeman, but all unconscious of their own; and the play
of the muscular strong limbs; and the terrible death grapple! And then the
dull hissing sound of the death stroke; and the voiceless parting of the
bold spirit! Ye Gods! ye Gods! it is a joy, to live, and almost to die
for!"
Paullus Arvina looked at her in speechless wonder. The eyes so wavering
and downcast were now fixed, and steady, and burning with a passionate
clear light; there was a fiery flush on her cheek, not brief and
evanescent; her ripe red mouth was half open, shewing the snow white teeth
biting the lower lip in the excitement of her feelings. Her whole form
seemed to be dilated and more majestic than its wont.
"Bravo! my girl; well said, my quiet Lucia!" exclaimed Catiline. "I knew
not that she had so much of mettle in her."
"You must have thought, then, that I belied my race," replied the girl,
unblushingly; "for it is whispered that you are my father, and I think
_you_ have looked on blood, and shed it before now!"
"Boar’s blood, ha! Lucia; but you are blunt and brave to-night. Is it that
Paullus has inspired you?"
"Nay! I know not," she replied, half apathetically; "but I do know, that
if I ever love, it shall be a hero; a man that would rather lie in wait
until dawn to receive the fierce boar rushing from the brake upon his
spear, than until midnight to enfold a silly girl in his embrace."
"Then will you never love me, Lucia," answered Curius.
"Never, indeed!" said she; "it must be a man whom I will love; and there
is nothing manly about thee, save thy vices!"
"It is for those that most people love me," replied Curius, nothing
disconcerted. "Now Cato has nothing of the man about him but the virtues;
and I should like to know who ever thought of loving Cato."
"I never heard of any body loving Cato," said Fulvia, quietly.
"But I have," answered the girl, almost fiercely; "none of _you_ love him;
nor do I love him; because he is too high and noble, to be dishonored by
the love of such as I am; but all the good, and great, and generous, do
love him, and will love his memory for countless ages! I would to God, I
could love him!"
"What fury has possessed her?" whispered Catiline to Orestilla; "what ails
her to talk thus? first to proclaim herself my daughter, and now to praise
Cato?"
"Do not ask me!" replied Aurelia in the same tone; "she was a strange girl
ever; and I cannot say, if she likes this task that you have put upon
her."
"More wine, ho! bring more wine! Drink we each man to his mistress, each
lady to her lover in secrecy and silence!" cried the master of the revel.
"Fill up! fill up! let it be pure, and sparkling to the brim."
But Fulvia, irritated a little by what had passed, would not be silent;
although she saw that Catiline was annoyed at the character the
conversation had assumed, and ere the slave had filled up the beakers she
addressed Lucia—
"And wherefore, dearest, would you love Cato? I could as soon love the
statue of Accius Nævius, with his long beard, on the steps of the
Comitium; he were scarce colder, or less comely than your Cato."
"Because to love virtue is still something, if we be vicious even; and, if
I am not virtuous myself, at least I have not lost the sense that it were
good to be so!"
"I never knew that you were not virtuous, my Lucia," interposed her
mother; "affectionate and pious you have ever been."
"And obedient!" added Catiline, with strong emphasis. "Your mother, my
Lucia, and myself, return thanks to the Gods daily for giving us so good a
child."
"Do you?" replied the girl, scornfully; "the Gods must have merry times,
then, for that must needs make them laugh! But good or bad, I respect the
great; and, if I ever love, it will be, as I said, a great and a good
man."
"I fear you will never love me, Lucia," whispered Paullus in her ear,
unheard amid the clash of knives and flagons, and the pealing of a fresh
strain of music, which ushered in the king of fish, the grand conger,
garnished with prawns and soused in pungent sauce.
"Wherefore not?" she replied, meeting his eye with a furtive sidelong
glance.
"Because I, for one, had rather watch till midnight fifty times, in the
hope only of clasping Lucia, once, in my embrace; than once until dawn, to
kill fifty boars of Umbria."
She made no answer; but looked up into his face as if to see whether he
was in earnest, with an affectionate and pleading glance; and then pressed
her unsandalled foot against his. A moment or two afterward, he perceived
the embroidered table cover had been drawn up, with the intent of
protecting her dress from the sauces of the fish which she was eating, in
such a manner as to conceal the greater part of her person.
Observing this, and excited beyond all restraint of ordinary prudence, by
the consciousness of her manner, he profited by the chance to steal his
arm about her waist; and to his surprise, almost as much as his delight,
he felt his hand clasped instantly in hers, and pressed upon her throbbing
heart.
The blood gushed like molten fire through his veins. The fascinations of
the siren had prevailed. The voice of the charmer had been heard, charming
him but too wisely. And for the moment, fool that he was, he fancied he
loved Lucia, and his own pure and innocent and lovely Julia was forgotten!
Forgotten, and for whom!
Catiline had not lost one word, one movement of the young couple; and he
perceived, that, although there was clearly something at work in the
girl’s bosom which he did not comprehend, she had at least obeyed his
commands in captivating Paullus; and he now doubted not but she would
persevere, from vanity or passion, and bind him down a fettered captive to
her will.
Determined to lose nothing by want of exertion, the traitor circulated now
the fiery goblet as fast as possible, till every brain was heated more or
less, and every cheek flushed, even of the women, by the inspiring
influence of the wine cup.
All dainties that were known in those days ministered to his feast;
oysters from Baiæ; pheasants—a rarity but lately introduced, since
Pompey’s conquests in the east—had been brought all the way from Phasis
upon the southern shores of the Black Sea; and woodcock from the valleys
of Ionia, and the watery plains of Troas, to load the tables of the
luxurious masters of the world. Livers of geese, forced to an unnatural
size by cramming the unhappy bird with figs; and turbot fricasseed in
cream, and peacocks stuffed with truffles, were on the board of Catiline
that day, as on the boards of many another noble Roman; and the wines by
which these rare dainties were diluted, differed but little, as wisest
critics say, from the madeiras and the sherries of the nineteenth century.
For so true is it, that under the sun there is nothing new, that in the
_foix gras_ of Strasburg, in the _turbot à la crême_, and in the _dindons
aux truffes_ of the French metropolis, the gastronomes of modern days have
only reproduced the dishes, whereon Lucullus and Hortensius feasted before
the Christian era.
The day passed pleasantly to all, but to Paullus Arvina it flew like a
dream, like a delirious trance, from which, could he have consulted his
own will, he would never have awakened.
With the dessert, and the wine cup, the myrtle branch and the lute went
round, and songs were warbled by sweet voices, full of seductive thoughts
and words of passion. At length the lamps were lighted, and the women
arose to quit the hall, leaving the ruder sex to prolong the revel; but as
Lucia rose, she again pressed the fingers of Arvina, and whispered a
request that he would see her once more ere he left the house.
He promised; but as he did so, his heart sank within him; for dearly as he
wished it, he believed he had promised that which would prove impossible.
But in a little while, chance, as he thought it, favored him; for seeing
that he refused the wine cup, Catiline, after rallying him some time, good
humoredly said with a laugh, "Come, my Arvina, we must not be too hard on
you. You have but a young head, though a stout one. Curius and I are old
veterans of the camp, old revellers, and love the wine cup better than the
bright eyes of beauty, or the minstrel’s lute. Thou, I will swear it,
wouldst rather now be listening to Lucia’s lyre, and may be fingering it
thyself, than drinking with us roisterers! Come, never blush, boy, we were
all young once! Confess, if I am right! The women you will find, if you
choose to seek them, in the third chamber on the left, beyond the inner
peristyle. We all love freedom here; nor are we rigid censors. Curius and
I will drain a flagon or two more, and then join you."
Muttering something not very comprehensible about his exertions in the
morning, and his inability to drink any more, Paullus arose, delighted to
effect his escape on terms so easy, and left the triclinium immediately in
quest of his mistress.
As he went out, Catiline burst into one of his sneering laughs, and
exclaimed, "He is in; by Pan, the hunter’s God! he is in the death-toil
already! May I perish ill, if he escape it."
"Why, in the name of all the Gods, do you take so much pains with him,"
said Curius; "he is a stout fellow, and I dare say a brave one; and will
make a good legionary, or an officer perhaps; but he is raw, and a fool to
boot!"
"Raw, but no fool! I can assure you," answered Catiline; "no more a fool
than I am. And we must have him, he is necessary!"
"He will be necessary soon to that girl of yours; she has gone mad, I
think, for love of him. I never did believe in philtres; but this is well
nigh enough to make one do so."
"Pshaw!" answered Catiline; "it is thou that art raw now, and a fool,
Curius. She is no more in love with him than thou art; it was all
acting—right good acting: for it did once well nigh deceive me who devised
it; but still, only acting. I ordered her to win him at all hazards."
"At all hazards?"
"Aye! at _all_."
"I wish you would give her the like orders touching me, if she obey so
readily."
"I would, if it were necessary; which it is not. First, because I have you
as firmly mine, as need be; and secondly, because Fulvia would have her
heart’s blood ere two days had gone, and that would ill suit me; for the
sly jade is useful."
"Take care she prove not too sly for you, Sergius. She may obey your
orders in this thing; but she does so right willingly. She loves the boy,
I tell you, as madly as Venus loved Adonis, or Phædra Hyppolitus; she
would pursue him if he fled from her."
"She loves him no more than she loves the musty statue of my stout
grandsire, Sergius Silo."
"You will see one day. Meanwhile, look that she fool you not."
While they were speaking, Paullus had reached the entrance of the chamber
indicated; and, opening the door, had entered, expecting to find the three
women assembled at some feminine sport or occupation. But fortune again
favored him—opportune fortune!
For Lucia was alone, expecting him, prepared for his entrance at any
moment; yet, when he came, how unprepared, how shocked, how terrified!
For she had unclasped her stola upon both her shoulders, and suffered it
to fall down to her girdle which kept it in its place about her hips. But
above those she was dressed only in a tunic of that loose fabric, a sort
of silken gauze, which was called woven air, and was beginning to be worn
very much by women of licentious character; this dress—if that indeed
could be called a dress, which displayed all the outlines of the shape,
all the hues of the glowing skin every minute blue vein that meandered
over the lovely bosom—was wrought in alternate stripes of white and
silver; and nothing can be imagined more beautiful than the effect of its
semi-transparent veil concealing just enough to leave some scope for the
imagination, displaying more than enough for the most prodigal of beauty.
She was employed in dividing her long jet-black hair with a comb of
mother-of-pearl as he entered; but she dropped both the hair and comb, and
started to her feet with a simulated scream, covering her beautiful bust
with her two hands, as if she had been taken absolutely by surprise.
But Paullus had been drinking freely, and Paullus saw, moreover, that she
was not offended; and, if surprised, surprised not unpleasantly by his
coming.
He sprang forward, caught her in his arms, and clasping her to his bosom
almost smothered her with kisses. But shame on her, fast and furiously as
he kissed, she kissed as closely back.
"Lucia, sweet Lucia, do you then love me?"
"More than my life—more than my country—more than the Gods! my brave, my
noble Paullus."
"And will you then be mine—all mine, my Lucia?"
"Yours, Paul?" she faltered, panting as if with agitation upon his bosom;
"am I not yours already? but no, no, no!" she exclaimed, tearing herself
from his embrace. "No no! I had forgotten. My father! no; I cannot, my
father!"
"What mean you, Lucia? your father? What of your father?"
"You are his enemy. You have discovered, will betray him."
"No, by the great Gods! you are mad, Lucia. I have discovered nothing; nor
if I knew him to be the slayer of my father, would I betray him! never,
never!"
"Will you swear _that_?"
"Swear what?"
"Never, whatever you may learn, to betray him to any living man: never to
carry arms, or give evidence against him; but faithfully and stedfastly to
follow him through virtue and through vice, in life and unto death; to
live for him, and die with him, unless I release you of your oath and
restore you to freedom, which I will never do!"
"By all the powers of light and darkness! by Jupiter Omnipotent, and Pluto
the Avenger, I swear, Lucia! May I and all my house, and all whom I love
or cherish, wretchedly perish if I fail you."
"Then I am yours," she sighed; "all, and for ever!" and sank into his
arms, half fainting with the violence of that prolonged excitement.