As the frightened deer flees at the sound of cracking twigs and
crunching leaves, so fled Gyges, startled by his thoughts. He ran, he
knew not why. The dark streets through which he passed were lighted
only by lamps burning before small shrines. Sounds of merry laughter,
of loud conversation, of joyful songs, and of crying children came
from the houses; but he heard nothing. He took no note of the dark
shadows that seemed to flee to one side to let him pass. The impulse
to get away from his horrible revelation drove him on, on, on, until
he arrived before the Temple of Julius Caesar in the Forum. While
he stopped to regain his breath, he noticed that a slight mist was
falling. He felt a chill pass over him. The smoke that came from the
altar of the Temple of Vesta hovered in the damp air. Here and there
from the windows in the palace of Tiberius on the Palatine Hill near by
could be seen flickering lights.
His fine physique could not now prevent him from falling a prey to
the terrors of his excited imagination. The keen eye that could
judge distances with nice exactness in the Circus Maximus could now
see no path before him. The hands that could draw the reins and check
the impetuous plunge of his horses were stronger than his will was
to check the rushing of his thoughts. His courage, that used to ring
in his voice and inspire the horses to make a supreme effort to gain
the finish line, melted now before the heat of his convictions. His
adamantine nature had finally been pierced. He suffered under the
writhings of a tormented soul.
Resting against the rostra before the Temple of Julius Caesar, he
dropped his face into his hands and breathed a pathetic “Oh-h-h”
that came from the profound depths of his soul. He heard near by the
footsteps of some one who groaned at every step. He saw indistinctly in
the darkness the small figure of a lad.
“Ho, boy!” called Gyges.
The lad stopped and asked, “Who calls?”
“’Tis one who pities thee. Why moanest thou?”
“O Master Gyges, flee! flee!” whispered the boy, excitedly.
“Ah! ’Tis thou, Aldo. What ails thee?”
“The soldiers are looking for thee.”
“For me? And why?”
“They have an order for thy arrest.”
“An order for my arrest? How didst thou leave the stables? Does not thy
back pain thee?”
“Ay, my master; but I wished to warn thee.”
“Didst thou go to my rooms?”
“Ay; the soldiers are there.”
“Whither hast thou been?”
“At thy new house. But hasten, O master!”
“Do the soldiers know of my new home?” asked Gyges, quickly.
“Nay, master; they know nothing.”
“Then come with me. Speak no more until I command thee.”
With the strong arm of Gyges supporting that of the stable-boy, they
went along the Via Sacra and around the Palatine Hill towards the
Porta Capena. It was the same walk that Psyche and Gyges had taken a
few hours before. The shutters that closed the shops on the Via Sacra
appeared to Gyges like coverings of tombs. The sparkling merchandise
that had evoked such pleasure in Psyche seemed to him now as black as
the abyss that separated the two lovers.
By the side of his master, Aldo bravely suppressed all sighs and
groans. He was a bright, sprightly, slender lad of fifteen, with short
light hair, clear blue eyes, and small mouth. He spoke quickly, with a
sharp ringing voice. He was descended from Greeks who had been slaves.
Gyges had bought him, and had taught him how to care for horses. The
little slave was devoted to his master because Gyges had promised him
freedom. Both master and slave now walked silently along. The mist had
turned to rain.
Arriving before his new home, Gyges rapped sharply upon the door. At
first no one answered. He rapped longer and harder. Finally a voice
from within asked, “Who wishes to enter?”
“Open, Nana. ’Tis I!”
“What is thy name?” she demanded.
“Knowest thou not my voice?” asked Gyges.
“Verily, ’tis thou, O Gyges,” exclaimed Nana, as she opened the door.
Gyges and Aldo entered.
“What means thy visit at this hour?” asked Nana, excitedly.
“Ah, Nana, prepare to hear sad and terrible news.”
“Has any one died?” she asked excitedly.
“This boy has told me that the soldiers are seeking me,” he cried,
evading her question.
“What hast thou done?” she ejaculated.
“Nothing,” answered Gyges. “At the camp they probably believe that I
know a secret. Oh, may the gods give thee strength to hear the other
horrible things that have happened this day!”
The voice of Gyges trembled as he spoke.
In a frightened tone Nana said: “When thy mother died, my Gyges, Nana
became thy comforter. Tell me all.”
“Ay, Nana; but this news is terrifying,” said Gyges, shuddering.
“Gannon is dead.”
“Gannon dead!” exclaimed Nana. “May the gods comfort his family!”
“His parents have been arrested,” continued Gyges, in a louder tone.
“Nay, ’tis not possible!” she exclaimed.
“Psyche is a prisoner and I am pursued,” cried Gyges, in a voice broken
with anguish.
So overwhelmed by this sudden and horrible news was Nana that she
remained silent for some time. Finally she softly moaned, “O Mother of
God, celestial Cybele, comfort us!”
“Ay, Nana,” groaned Gyges. “I feel as if a crushing hand were thrust
into my bosom and were compressing my heart. But this poor lad suffers.
I pray thee go bathe and anoint his back! Leave me alone with my burden
of woe!”
She kissed his forehead, saying: “Words cannot comfort thee. Thy spirit
must wrestle alone with this grievous affliction.” She paused a moment
and asked, “Wouldst thou have me light a lamp?”
“Nay; the darkness of this room is brighter than that which fills my
heart,” he sadly replied.
As a feather drops from the wing of a soaring bird and is driven
aimlessly by the winds, so were the thoughts of Gyges controlled by
the currents of his imagination. Alone in the room that was to have
been Psyche’s nuptial chamber, he stood and deeply deliberated. Grave
and ponderous questions burdened him. Should he try to escape? Should
he leave Psyche defenceless? How could he save her? What should he
do with his horses? He felt that he must act quickly; but how? The
darkness of night is sometimes mocked by the lightning. The feeble
glitter that at first revealed hopes of safety in flight now became a
flash, and Gyges decided to attempt escape. He immediately went to the
room where Aldo, greatly refreshed, awaited his commands.
“How dost thou feel?” asked Gyges.
“I feel no more pain, only stiffness,” replied the lad. “Curses rest
upon the man who beat me!”
“The blows were cruelly dealt,” said Nana.
“But come, we must act quickly! Aldo, return thou to the stables!”
“O my master, can I not go with thee?” pleaded the slave.
“Nay, boy; thou must care for the horses,” replied Gyges.
“But Alvarus cares for them better than I do,” cried Aldo. “Take me
with thee, O my master! Go not alone!”
“Nay, I must go alone,” replied Gyges, firmly.
Tears flowed down the lad’s cheeks as he threw himself on his knees
before Gyges, crying, “At the stables without thy protection they will
kill me.”
“And why?” asked the master.
“They hate a Greek slave,” answered the boy.
“But thy back is not healed.”
“I can run and jump. See!” he said, as he ran and jumped around the
room, concealing his pain like a little Stoic.
“Rest content; thou mayst go with me,” relented Gyges.
The little slave nearly danced with joy.
“O Nana,” continued Gyges, “I know not what to do. Who will now care
for my horses? They know my walk, my every motion. Their gentle eyes
follow me whenever I am with them. They place their noses against my
face and caress me like human beings.”
“They were restless when I left the stable, O master. They missed
thee,” said Aldo.
“Ah, Ambrosia, Phaeo, Zephyrus, and Notus, who will love you as I did?
But come, Nana!” he quickly called. “A light! I must write two letters!”
Nana took a small terra-cotta lamp and preceded Gyges into the small
dining-room.
“How much money hast thou?” asked Gyges.
“I have paid nothing for the household furniture. I still have the
money,” replied the faithful Nana.
“Then give it me,” he gently commanded. Nana left the room. When she
returned, Gyges had finished a short order. “Take this to the banker
Tullius, at the Basilica Aemelia. That will procure for thee enough
money to keep thee.”
“How long wilt thou be gone?” asked Nana, anxiously.
“I know not, my Nana,” replied Gyges.
“Whither goest thou?”
“’Tis best thou shouldst not know,” answered the young master, sadly.
He now wrote another letter for Alvarus at the stables. “Send this to
the Circus Maximus,” he ordered. “Let no one know it came from here.”
He arose and cried in a plaintive tone: “Ah, that I should be obliged
to leave Psyche! But I may do more for her by being free. ’Tis best
that I should go. Come, Aldo! Guard well this little home, my Nana.
Care for it as if Psyche and I were to enter it on the morrow.”
“That will I do, O Gyges,” said Nana, weeping.
“Pray for her, O Nana! Pray for me,” he softly said.
“Come, Aldo,” he added. “We must go. Go thou by the Via Latina to
Tusculum and await me there at the theatre entrance. Here is some
money. Beg thy way. Use the money only when necessary. Keep thy lips
sealed. I shall be at Tusculum at midday on the morrow. Fare thee well,
my Nana.”
“The gods guard thy life, O my Gyges!” sobbed the good woman.
Wrapping their cloaks about them as a protection from the rain, Gyges
and Aldo left the house. At the Porta Capena they separated, the master
taking the Via Appia, the road that led to Albanum. He went directly to
Alcmaeon’s house. The door had been left partly open. As Gyges entered,
he felt the key in the lock on the outside, as it had been left by
Hera. With a spark from the embers in the fireplace he lit a lamp. The
house was as dreary as a tenantless cave. He felt some satisfaction at
the prospect of destroying Gannon’s message; but he could not find the
tunic. In a flash he concluded that Psyche had confessed. He felt as if
a breath from an unfathomable abyss had breathed upon his soul. “She is
lost forever!” he groaned aloud. As if incapable of further reasoning,
he unconsciously extinguished the lamp, locked the door, hid the key,
and went on his way towards Albanum, with a heart completely crushed.