THE HOROSCOPE
Nika was pale and worn, and scarcely spoke.
'What ails thee, dearest wife?' said Varro.
'Naught,' replied she; 'tired only. All night long have I watched
through the storm. I knew by the signal-fires thou wert off the harbour
mouth. Dost thou think I could rest when my lord rode on the top of
crested waves, and the creaking timbers of the vessel sang omens fierce
and loud? No, no; Nika is of different mould. My father is a warrior and
a sailor, and ofttimes has he told me of the fearful perils of the
seas.'
'Nika, thou art my darling wife! How hast thou fared during my absence?
Hast thou longed for my coming?'
'Truly I have. And sometimes, when cloudy times were over me, I wished
me dead rather than alone. Friends tried to cheer me; their work was but
mockery, I well knowing naught but thy presence could fill the heart
which has but room for one great joy--one which fills it to
overflowing.'
'Thou lovest me too much, Nika.'
'Nika never loves but with all her soul,' replied she.
'Tell me, girl, how is our old friend Chios?'
'Chios? I have not seen him for many a day. I may say I have not seen
him since thou left for Rome. I am told that strange being has turned
voyager. It appears he took it into his head to visit Delos, and a
trading-ship passing on its voyage thence called into this port, and
Chios embarked.'
'Has he returned?'
'I believe so. I understand he arrived two days since.'
'I will go and see him shortly.'
* * * * *
A day or two had flown, and Varro was at the studio of Chios.
'Well, my friend,' said the Proconsul, 'how has the time passed with
thee since I deserted Ephesus? Hast seen yet the charming Ionian girl
who is to smite thy heart like the sharpened beak of a war bireme when
it sends its prow into the soft pinewood sides of an enemy's ship? No?
Well, I am sorry for thee, Chios. Thou deservedst a better fate. Nika
told me of thy wanderings to Delos. Didst thou have pleasure in that
lovely isle?'
'I enjoyed it immensely, and learned many quaint stories of the place. I
saw the Temple and the rock-cleft chasm through which the priestesses
derived inspiration. I heard the story of Myrtile, that she was
beautiful and wise as she was lovely; how she broke her vows, and
suffered death as a punishment for her crime.'
'How sad those stories are, Chios!'
'Yes, very, but the earth is full of such. Where dost thou spend this
evening?'
'Now, Chios, I am going to confide in thee. Guess what it is!'
'I cannot.'
'I have desired to get the horoscope of Nika. They tell me the witch
Endora who lives in the side of yonder hill is one of the most eminent
calculators of Ionia. Where she received her education 'tis a mystery.
She has not been taught in Ephesus. I go to this poor old woman. What
sayest thou, Chios?'
'Don't go. No good will come of it.'
'Art thou a seer?'
'No; neither do I understand magic, but somehow I feel you will act
wisely in keeping away.'
'Lovest thou not the mysteries?'
'No.'
'Neither those who love them?'
'I love all my friends, whate'er their faith.'
'Thou art a born diplomatist, Chios; but to-night will find me walking
over the long grass leading to the cave of the wise woman of Ephesus.'
* * * * *
That night he did go, and with some intrepidity knocked at the door of
the mysterious cave. It was answered by Endora, peering out into the
starlit night.
'Whom seekest thou?' said she.
'Endora.'
'I am Endora. What requirest thou?'
'I wish to consult thee.'
'My place is poor for thee. Come within. Now, what is thy requirement?'
'Thou tellest the future?'
'Well?'
'Dost thou cast an horoscope truly?'
'Likely enough.'
'Wilt thou cast from this?'--handing the date and time of birth.
Endora took it, sat down, and commenced her work. Presently she looked
up, and said:
'I see enough to assure me that it will fit but the life of one person.'
'And that one?' said Varro.
'A woman, the wife of the Proconsul of Ephesus, and thou art he.'
'This augurs well. I have heard great worth attached to thy wisdom. Now
pray tell me hast thou ever seen her?'
'Yes, many times. What dost thou think of thy wife? Art thou jealous of
her since thou art come to dive into her future and her past?'
'No, my woman! No, no; why should I be jealous? She is chaste as she is
beautiful, and kind as she is wise. I have fullest confidence in my
wife. What seest thou, Endora?'
'I fear,' replied the witch, 'I must have been mistaken; for now I see
here a beautiful woman with rippling hair of golden hue flowing back
from a snowy brow.'
'Yes, yes; go on. That is right.'
'No, it cannot be the Nika you call wife; she has eyes of blue, deep as
the sea, and her cheeks are tinged with the glory of the pomegranate.
She stands erect; she walks like a queen.'
'Thou art right, Endora. 'Tis she! Thou art an artist; go further.'
'She has ruby lips, and her teeth are white and smooth as pearl; but
within she is a cauldron of----'
'Stay, wretch!' cried Varro.
'I will not. A cauldron of lies! A sink of deception! A tiger whelp! A
soul drowning in iniquity, destined to wander in darkness for ages on
ages!'
'Stop--stop thy murderous tongue! It must be, as thou sayest, some
other--not Nika!'
'No, no. Thou shalt not stay me; I will go on. It--is--thy--wife! She is
beautiful without, but within I see her as I say.'
'Poor thing! thou art deceived. Thou art delirious; I pity thee, and
will get physician's aid for thee. I go now. Here is some gold. Rest
thyself. Thine is a case demanding pity.'
'I take not your gold; I want not your pity. I am sane. Would I had been
born a drivelling idiot, and remained so to this present!'
'But surely, woman, thou canst not be other than mad to say such
horrible things about Nika, my wife, my greatest treasure!'
'I am not mad, noble man; but speak the truth, and speak it plainly. Thy
wife deceives thee. She is vile!'
'Curse your gray locks! I will smite you where you stand if you do not
retract those blackened lies!'
'Listen, Proconsul: I will not withdraw what I have said, but will
further tear the veil from off thy deluded eyes. I have known her long,
and watched her well--the reason, mine. I have followed in the groove of
her life; but, to come to the present, thou hast been from Ephesus,
leaving thy beautiful Nika behind--leaving thy soul's happiness with
her. How has she repaid thee? How! By giving her love to----'
'Silence, thou reptile of hell!' And he sprang forward, clutching the
woman by the throat.
Her face grew dark and her eyes started; her mouth twitched
convulsively, as if she essayed to speak.
Maddened with fury, Varro still clutched her with the grip of death,
holding her out at arms' length, glaring at her like a tiger with its
prey.
With one supreme effort the woman gathered together her dying strength
sufficiently to enable her to thrust her hand into the folds of her
dress and draw forth a tablet and hold it out towards him.
Instinctively he relaxed his grip, and the witch cried out:
'Read! Read!'
He grasped the tablet, opened it, and saw the signature of Nika.
Endora fell, her face lying on the stony floor. He heeded her not, but,
with a face as death-like as that of the witch, glanced down the lines
of the tablet.
Then, with a moan such as is heard when the weary storm tells its sad
tale through the cypress-trees, he sat down and buried his face in his
hands.
For some time he remained in the same position, until a sigh came from
the prostrate woman.
He arose and went towards her, saying:
'Whatever may be thy sins, in this I am the sinner for bruising thee.'
He gave her wine, damped her furrowed, fevered brow, raised her from the
floor, and watched by her until she had fully regained consciousness.
She murmured:
'I do not blame thee. Were I a man, I would have done likewise. Endora
pities thee. Thou hast wedded a snake, and she has stung thee. What wilt
thou do?'
'Charge her.'
'And should she deny?'
'She shall be tried by the rites of the Virgin Cave of Hecate.'
He arose, and, throwing his mantle around him, strode out into the night
down the hillside to his home.
On his arrival, Nika met him with honeyed words and sweetest smiles, but
he passed her coldly, and went to his chamber--not to sleep. The room
seemed filled with choking air. He opened the window and let in a
cooling draught, and the moonlight, faint and low, stole softly across
the floor.
For a moment he rested, buried in thought, scarcely knowing what to do.
His face betrayed great passion. He arose, and paced the room until the
day dawned over the sea, when he fell upon a couch, and passed into a
dreamy sleep.
When the morning had fully come, he went out and breathed the cool
virgin air, but soon returned.
His wife met him again with all the ease that duplicity can command.
'And where hast thou been, Varro? Why so cold yesternight to thy loving
wife?'
'Nika, thou art false, false! What hast thou been doing whilst I
journeyed to Rome?'
'What dost thou mean?'
'Mean! Just what I say. I am not a man to bandy words. Thou art
unfaithful to me. Dost thou deny it?'
'I do. I swear by Jove I am guiltless! I have traducers, and they lie!'
'Knowest thou this writing, Nika?' And, drawing the tablet from his
bosom, he said: 'Dost thou recognise this?'
For a moment, and just a moment only, as a bird flies past and hides the
moon, her face assumed an ashen hue, but a crimson blush rushed in and
retired, leaving sufficient colour to make her beauty more enchanting.
Then, throwing her proud head back on her shoulders, she laughed,
saying:
'Dear old jealous husband! I can explain all, I see. I understand what
has ruffled your pretty plumage. I remember the other night writing on
that tablet--a great joke'--and again she laughed out merrily.
'I will tell thee, Varro. For want of something to do, I sat down and
read the love poems by Andros. Yes, Varro. Art thou listening? Well,
what do you think? A sudden idea came into my mind to try if I could
write an epistle to an imaginary lover. So I did, just for amusement,
Varro. I laid the tablet in my lap and fell asleep, and lo! when I awoke
it was gone; and, strangely enough, you, Varro, bring it to me. This is
all, dear. Of course, thou believest me?'
'No, I believe it not. Thou shalt no longer be wife of mine until thou
provest thyself. This affair is not a secret in Ephesus, and men of
Ionia and nobles of Rome shall never point the finger of scorn at Varro.
If thou art true, fear not; if false, then take thy reward.'
'What meanest thou, husband? Thou art not serious? How can I prove other
than by my word?'
'Thou forgettest there is a tribunal for such offences.'
'True. Tell me.'
'The Virgin Cave of Hecate.'
'The cave! Saronia!' shrieked Nika, and fell to the floor a helpless
form.
The Roman took her up and laid her on a couch, her hair flowing in
golden masses to the ground, and her face like the face of death when
Chios painted her!
He called a slave to attend to Nika, hurried to his apartment, and sent
word to Venusta instructing her to come immediately, stating her
daughter was ill.
Venusta came, and was terror-stricken at her daughter's appearance, and
that day the wife of the Proconsul was removed to her mother's home on
the side of Mount Coressus.