As Cethegus emerged from the subterranean chamber into the ground-floor
of the palace, and prepared to follow the Queen, his ear was caught and
his progress arrested by the solemn and sorrowful tones of flutes. He
guessed what it meant.
His first impulse was to turn aside. But he presently decided to
remain.
It would happen some time, therefore it was best at once. He must find
out how far she was informed.
The tones of the flutes came nearer, alternating with a monotonous
dirge. Cethegus stepped into a wide niche of the dark corridor, into
which the head of a little procession already turned.
Foremost came, two by two, six noble Roman maidens, covered with grey
mourning veils, carrying reversed torches. Then followed a priest,
before whom was borne the tall banner of the Cross, with long
streamers. Next came a troop of the freedmen of the family of Boethius,
led by Corbulo and the flute-players. Then followed, borne by four
Roman girls, an open coffin, covered with flowers. Upon it lay, on a
white linen cloth, the dead Camilla, in bridal ornaments, a wreath in
her dark hair, an expression of smiling peace upon her slightly-opened
lips.
Behind the coffin, with loosened hair, staring fixedly before her, came
the unhappy mother, surrounded by matrons, who supported her sinking
form.
A company of female slaves closed the procession, which slowly
disappeared into the vault.
Cethegus recognised the sobbing Daphnidion, and stopped her.
"When did she die?" he asked calmly.
"Oh, sir, a few hours ago! Oh, the good, kind, beautiful Domna!"
"Did she ever awaken to full consciousness?"
"No, sir, never. Only quite at the last she once more opened her large
eyes, and appeared to seek for something. 'Where has he gone?' she
asked her mother. 'Ah, I see him!' she then cried, and rose from her
cushions. 'Child, my child, where will you go?' cried my mistress,
weeping. 'Oh, there!' she replied with a rapturous smile; 'to the Isles
of the Blessed!' and she closed her eyes and fell back upon her couch;
that lovely smile remained upon her lips--and she was gone, gone for
ever!"
"Who has caused her to be brought down here?"
"The Queen. She learned everything, and gave orders that the deceased,
as the bride of her son, should be laid beside him and buried in the
same tomb."
"But what says the physician? How could she die so suddenly?"
"Alas! the physician saw her only for a moment; he was too much
occupied with the royal corpse; and then my mistress would not suffer
the strange man to touch her daughter. It is just her heart that has
been broken; one can easily die of that! But peace--they come!"
The procession returned in the same order as before, but without the
coffin. Daphnidion joined it. Only Rusticiana was missing.
Cethegus quietly walked up and down the corridor, to wait for her.
At last her bowed-down form came slowly up the steps. She staggered and
seemed about to fall.
Cethegus quickly caught her arm. "Rusticiana, take courage!"
"You here? God! you also loved her! And we--we two have murdered her!"
and she sank upon his shoulder.
"Silence, unhappy woman!" he whispered, looking around.
"Alas! I, her own mother, have killed her! I mixed the fatal draught
that caused his death."
"All is well," thought Cethegus. "She has no suspicion that Camilla
drank, and still less that I saw her do so.--It is a terrible stroke of
Fate!" he said aloud. "But reflect, what would have followed had she
lived? She loved him!"
"What would have followed?" cried Rusticiana, receding. "Oh, if she but
lived! Who can prevent love? Oh that she had become his--his wife--his
mistress, provided only that she lived!"
"But you forget that he _must_ have died?"
"Must? Why must he have died? So that you might carry out your
ambitious plans? Oh, selfishness without example!"
"They are your plans that I carry out, not mine; how often must I
repeat it? _You_ have conjured up the God of Revenge, not I. Why do you
accuse me if he demand a sacrifice? Think better of it. Farewell."
But Rusticiana violently seized his arm. "And that is all? And you have
nothing more--not a word, not a tear for my child? And you would make
me believe that you have acted thus to avenge her, to avenge me? You
have never had a heart! You did not even love her--coldly you see her
die! Ha, curses, curses upon thee!"
"Be silent, frantic woman!"
"Silent! no, I will speak and curse you! Oh that I knew of something
that was as dear to you as Camilla was to me! Oh that you, like me,
could see your whole life's last and only joy torn away--that you could
see it vanish, and despair! If there be a God in heaven you will live
to do so!"
Cethegus smiled.
"You do not believe in heavenly vengeance? Well, then, believe in the
vengeance of a miserable mother! You shall tremble! I will hasten to
the Queen and tell her all! You shall die!"
"And you will die with me."
"With a smile--if only I can see you perish!" and she would have
hurried away, but Cethegus held her back with an iron grasp.
"Stop, woman! Do you think that I am not on my guard with such as you?
Your sons, Anicius and Severinus, are here in Italy, secretly--in
Rome--in my house. You know that death is the penalty of their return.
A word--and they die with us. Then you may take to your husband your
sons, as well as your daughter, who has died by your means. Her blood
upon your head!" and quickly turning the angle of the corridor, he
disappeared.
"My sons!" cried Rusticiana, and sank down upon the marble pavement.
A few days after, the widow of Boethius, with Corbulo and Daphnidion,
left the court for ever. In vain the Queen sought to detain her.
The faithful freedman took her back to the sheltered Villa of Tifernum,
which she now deeply regretted ever having left. There, in the place of
the little Temple of Venus, she erected a basilica, in the crypt of
which an urn was placed, containing the hearts of the two lovers.
In her passionate soul her prayers for the salvation of her child were
inseparably bound up with a petition for revenge upon Cethegus, whose
real share in Camilla's death she did not even suspect; she only felt
that he had used mother and daughter as tools for his plans, and had
sacrificed the girl's happiness and life with heartless coldness.
And scarcely less continuously than the flame of the eternal lamp
before the urn, the prayer and the curse of the lonely mother rose up
to heaven.
The hour came which disclosed to her all the Prefect's guilt, and the
vengeance which she called down from heaven did not tarry.