The day had flown swiftly for Dada under the roof of Medius; there were
costumes and scenery in wonderful variety for her to look over; the
children were bright and friendly, and she had enjoyed playing with
them, for all her little tricks and rhymes, which Papias was familiar
with by this time, were to them new and delightful. It amused her,
too, to see what the domestic difficulties were of which the singer had
described himself as being a victim.
Medius was one of those men who buy everything that strikes them as
cheap--for instance, that very morning, at Kibotus he had stood to watch
a fish auction and had bought a whole tub-full of pickled fish for “a
mere trifle;” but when, presently, the cargo was delivered, his wife
flew into a great rage, which she vented first on the innocent lad who
brought the fish, and then on the less innocent purchaser. They would
not get to the bottom of the barrel and eat the last herring, she
asserted, till they were a century old. Medius, while he disputed so
monstrous a statement, vehemently declared that such wholesome and
nutritious food as those fish was undoubtedly calculated to prolong the
lives of the whole family to an exceptionally great age.
This discussion, which was not at all by way of a jest, amused Dada
far more than the tablets, cylinders and cones covered with numbers and
cabalistic signs, to which Medius tried to direct her attention.
She darted off in the midst of his eager explanations to show his
grandchildren how a rabbit sniffs and moves his ears when he is offered
a cabbage-leaf.
The report, which reached them in the afternoon, of the proceedings in
the square by the Prefect’s house, disturbed Medius greatly, and he set
off at once for the scene of action.
He did not return till evening, and then he looked like an altered man.
He must have witnessed something very terrible, for his face was as
pale as death, and his usually confident and swaggering manner had given
place to a stricken and care-worn air. He walked up and down the room,
groaning as he went; he flung himself on the divan and stared fixedly at
the ground; he wandered into the atrium and gazed cautiously out on the
street. Dada’s presence seemed suddenly to be the source of much anxiety
to him, and the girl, painfully conscious of this, hastened to tell him
that she would prefer to return home at once to her uncle and aunt.
“You can please yourself,” was all he said, with a shrug and a sigh.
“You may stay for aught I care. It is all the same now!”
So far his wife had left him to himself, for she was used to his violent
and eccentric behavior whenever anything had crossed him; but now she
peremptorily desired to be informed what had happened to him and he at
once acceded. He had been unwilling to frighten them sooner than was
needful, but they must learn it sooner or later: Cynegius had arrived to
overthrow the image of Serapis, and what must ensue they knew only too
well. “To-day,” he cried, “we will live; but by to-morrow--a thousand to
one-by to-morrow there will be an end of all our joys and the earth will
swallow up the old home and us with it!”
His words fell on prepared ground; his wife and daughter were appalled,
and as Medius went on to paint the imminent catastrophe in more vivid
colors, his energy growing in proportion to its effect on them, they
began at first to sob and whimper and then to wail loudly. When the
children, who by this time were in bed, heard the lamentations of their
elders, they, too, set up a howl, and even Dada caught the infection. As
for Medius himself, he had talked himself into such a state of terror by
his own descriptions of the approaching destruction of the world that he
abandoned all claim to his proud reputation as a strong-minded man, and
quite forgot his favorite theory that everything that went by the name
of God was a mere invention of priests and rulers to delude and oppress
the ignorant; at last he even went so far as to mutter a prayer, and
when his wife begged to be allowed to join a family of neighbors in
sacrificing a black lamb at daybreak, he recklessly gave her a handful
of money.
None of the party closed an eye that night. Dada could not bear to
remain in the house. Perhaps all these horrors existed only in Medius’
fancy; but if destruction were indeed impending, she would a thousand
times rattier perish with her own relations than with these people, in
whom there was something--she did not know what--for which she felt a
deep aversion. This she explained to her host early in the day and he
was ready to set out at once and restore her to the care of Karnis.
In fact, the purpose for which he had needed her must certainly come to
nothing. He himself was attached to the service of Posidonius, a great
magician and wizard, to whom half Alexandria flocked--Christians, Jews,
and heathens--in order to communicate with the dead, with gods and with
demons, to obtain spells and charms by which to attract lovers or injure
foes, to learn the art of becoming invisible, or to gain a glimpse into
the future. In the performance which was being planned Dada was to have
appeared to a bereaved mother as the glorified presence of her lost
daughter; but the disturbance in the city had driven the matron, who was
rich, to take refuge in the country the previous afternoon. Nor was it
likely that the sorcerer’s other clients--even if all turned out better
than could be hoped--would venture into the streets by night. Rich
people were timid and suspicious; and as the Emperor had lately
promulgated fresh and more stringent edicts against the magic arts,
Posidonius had thought it prudent to postpone the meeting. Hence Medius
had at present no use for the girl; but he affected to agree so readily
to her wishes merely out of anxiety to relieve Isarnis as soon as
possible of his uneasiness as to her fate.
The morning was bright and hot, and the town was swarming with an
excited mob soon after sunrise. Terror, curiosity and defiance were
painted on every face; however, Medius and his young companion made
their way unhindered as far as the temple of Isis by the lake. The doors
of the sanctuary were closed, and guarded by soldiers; but the southern
and western walls were surrounded by thousands and thousands of heathen.
Some hundreds, indeed, had passed the night there in prayer, or in sheer
terror of the catastrophe which could not fail to ensue, and they were
kneeling in groups, groaning, weeping, and cursing, or squatting in
stolid resignation, weary, crushed and hopeless. It was a heart-rending
sight, and neither Dada--who till this moment had been dreading Dame
Herse’s scolding tongue far more than the destruction of the world--nor
her companion could forbear joining in the wail that rose from this vast
multitude. Medius fell on his knees groaning aloud and pulled the girl
down beside him; for, upon the wall that enclosed the temple precincts,
they now saw a priest who, after holding the sacred Sistrum up to view
and muttering some unintelligible prayers and invocations, proceeded to
address the people.
He was a short stout man, and the sweat streamed down his face as he
stood under the blazing sun to sketch a fearful picture of the monstrous
doom which was hanging over the city and its inhabitants. He spoke
with pompous exaggeration, in a shrill, harsh voice, wiping his face
meanwhile with his white linen robe or gasping for air, when breath
failed him, like a fish stranded on the beach. All this, however, did
not trouble his audience, for the hatred that inspired his language, and
the terror of the immediate future which betrayed itself in every word
exactly reflected their feelings. Dada alone was moved to mirth; the
longer she looked at him the more she felt inclined to laugh; besides,
the day was so bright--a pigeon on the wall pattered round his mate,
nodding and wriggling after the funny manner of pigeons in love--and,
above all, her heart beat so high and she had such a happy instinctive
feeling that all was ordered for the best, that the world seemed to
her a beautiful and fairly secure dwelling-place, in spite of the dark
forebodings of the zealous preacher. On the eve of destruction the earth
must surely look differently from this; and it struck her as highly
improbable that the gods should have revealed their purpose to such a
queer old driveller as this priest, and have hidden it from other men.
The very fact that this burly personage should prophesy evil with such
conviction made her doubt it; and presently, when the plumes of three
or four helmets became visible behind the speaker, and a pair of strong
hands grasped his thick ankles and suddenly dragged him down from his
eminence and back into the temple, she could hardly keep herself from
laughing outright.
Now, however, there was more real cause for alarm a trumpet-blast was
heard, and a maniple of the twenty-second legion marched down in close
order on the crowd who fled before them. Medius was one of the first to
make off; Dada kept close to his side, and when, in his alarm, he fairly
took to his heels, she did the same; for, in spite of the reception she
apprehended, she felt that the sooner she could rejoin her own people
the better. Never till now had she known how dear they were to her.
Herse might scold; but her sharpest words were truer and better than
the smooth flattery of Medius. It was a joy to think of seeing them
again--Agne, too, and little Papias--and she felt as though she were
about to meet them after years of separation.
By this time they were at the ship-yard, which was divided only by a
lane from the Temple-grove; there lay the barge. Dada pulled off her
veil and waved it in the air, but the signal met with no response.
They were at the house, no doubt, for some men were in the very act of
drawing up the wooden gangway which connected the vessel with the land.
Medius hurried forward and was so fortunate as to overtake the steward,
who had been superintending the operation, before he reached the
garden-gate.
The old man was rejoiced to see them, and told them at once that his old
mistress had promised Herse to give Dada shelter if she should return
to them. But Dada was proud. She had no liking for Gorgo or her
grandmother; and when she had caught up to Medius, quite out of breath,
she positively refused the old lady’s hospitality.
The barge was deserted. Karnis--so the steward informed her--had
withdrawn to the temple of Serapis with his son, intending to assist in
its defence; and Herse had accompanied them, for Olympius had said that
women would be found useful in the beleaguered sanctuary, in preparing
food for the combatants and in nursing the wounded.
Dada stood looking at their floating home, utterly disappointed and
discouraged. She longed to follow her aunt and to gain admission to the
Serapeutn; but how could she do this now, and of what use could she hope
to be? There was nothing heroic in her composition, and from her infancy
she had always sickened at the sight of blood. She had no alternative
but to return with Medius, and take refuge under his roof.
The singer gave her ample time for reflection; he had seated himself,
with the steward, under the shade of a sycamore, and the two men were
absorbed in convincing each other, by a hundred arguments which they had
picked up during the last day or two, how inevitably the earth must be
annihilated if the statue of Serapis should be overthrown. In the warmth
of their discussion they paid no heed to the young girl, who was sitting
on a fallen Hermes by the road-side. Her vigorous and lively temperament
rendered her little apt to dream, or even meditate, in broad daylight;
but the heat and the recent excitement had overwrought her and she fell
into a drowsy reverie. Now and again, as her heavy head drooped on
her breast, she fancied the Serapeum had actually fallen; then, as she
raised it again, she recovered her consciousness that it was hot, that
she had lost her home, and that she must, however unwillingly, return
with Medius. But at length her eyelids closed, and as she sat in the
full blaze of the sun, a rosy light filled her eyes and a bright vision
floated before her: Marcus took the modius--the corn measure--from the
head of the statue of Serapis and offered it to her; it was quite full
of lilies and roses and violets, and she was delighted with the flowers
and thanked him warmly when he set the modius down before her. He held
out his hands to her calmly and kindly, and she gave him hers, feeling
very happy under the steady, compassionate gaze of his large eyes which
had often watched her, on board ship, for some minutes at a time. She
longed to say something to him, but she could not speak; and she looked
on quite unmoved as the statue of the god and the hall in which it stood
were wrapt in flames. No smoke mingled with this clear and genial blaze,
but it compelled her to shade her dazzled eyes; and as she lifted her
hand she woke to see Medius standing in front of her.
He desired her to come home with him at once, and she rose to obey,
listening in silence to his assurances that the lives of Karnis and
Orpheus would not be worth a sesterce if they fell into the hands of the
Roman soldiers.
She walked on, more hopeless and depressed than she had ever felt in her
life before, past the unfinished hulks in the ship-yard where no one was
at work to-day when, coming down the lane that divided the wharf from
the temple precincts, she saw an old man and a little boy. She had not
time to ask herself whether she saw rightly or was mistaken before
the child caught sight of her, snatched his hand away from that of his
companion, and flew towards her, shouting her name. In the next moment
little Papias had rushed rapturously into her arms and, as she lifted
him up, had thrown his hands round her neck, clinging to her as if he
would never leave go again, while she hugged him closely for joy, and
kissed him with her eyes full of tears. She was herself again at once;
the sad and anxious girl was the lively Dada once more.
The man who had been leading the little boy was immediately besieged
with questions, and from his answers they learnt that he had found the
child the evening before at the corner of a street, crying bitterly;
that he had taken him home, and with some little difficulty had
ascertained from him that he belonged to some people who were living
on board a barge, close to a ship-yard. In spite of the excitement that
prevailed he had brought the child home as soon as possible, for
he could fancy how anxious his parents must be. Dada thanked the
kind-hearted artisan with sincere warmth, and the man, seeing how happy
the girl and the child were at having met, went his way quite satisfied.
Medius had stood by and had said nothing, but he looked on the pretty
little boy with much favor. If the earth were not to crumble into
nothingness after all, this child would be a real treasure trove; and
when Dada begged him to find a corner for Papias in his house, though
he hinted at the smallness of his earnings and the limited space at his
command, he yielded, if reluctantly, to her entreaties, on her offering
him her gold brooch to cover his expenses.
As they made their way back she cast many loving glances at the child;
she was extremely fond of him, and he seemed a link to bind her to her
own people.