While Marcus carried out his brother’s instructions Dada was expecting
him and Eusebius with the greatest impatience. Gorgo had charged her
waiting-woman to conduct the girl into the music-room and to tell her
that she would join her there if her father was in such a state as to
allow of it. Some refreshments were brought in to her, all delicate and
tempting enough; but Dada would not touch them, for she fancied that the
merchant’s daughter was avoiding her intentionally, and her heart ached
with a sense of bereavement and loneliness. To distract her thoughts she
wandered round the room, looking at the works of art that stood against
the walls, feeling the stuffs with which the cushions were covered and
striking a lute which was leaning against the pedestal of a Muse. She
only played a few chords, but they sufficed to call up a whole train of
memories; she sank on a divan in the darkest corner she could find in
the brilliantly-lighted room, and gave herself up to reviewing the many
events of the last few days. It was all so bright, so delightful, that
it hardly seemed real, and her hopes were so radiantly happy that for a
moment she trembled to think of their fulfilment--but only for a moment;
her young soul was full of confidence and elation, and if a doubt
weighed it down for an instant it was soon cast off and her spirit rose
with bold expectancy.
Her heart overflowed with happiness and thankfulness as she thought of
Marcus and his love for her; her fancy painted the future always by his
side, and though her annoyance at Gorgo’s continued absence, and her
dread of her lover’s mother slightly clouded her gladness, the sense of
peace and rapture constantly came triumphantly to the front. She forgot
time as it sped, till at length Gorgo made her appearance.
She had not deliberately kept out of the little singer’s way; on the
contrary, she had been detained by her father, for not till now had she
dared to tell him that his mother, the beloved mistress of his
house, was no more. In the Serapeum she had not mentioned it, by the
physician’s orders; and now, in addition, through the indiscretion of
a friend, he had received some terrible tidings which had already been
known for some hours in the city and which dealt him a serious blow.
His two sons were in Thessalonica, and a ship, just arrived from thence,
brought the news-only too well substantiated, that fifteen thousand of
the inhabitants of that town had been treacherously assassinated in the
Circus there.
This hideous massacre had been carried out by the Imperial troops at
Caesar’s command, the wretched citizens having been bidden to witness
the races and then ruthlessly butchered. A general of the Imperial
army--a Goth named Botheric--had been killed by the mob, and the Emperor
had thus avenged his death.
Porphyrius knew only too well that his sons would never have been
absent from any races or games. They certainly must have been among the
spectators and have fallen victims to the sword of the slaughterer. His
mother and two noble sons were snatched from him in a day; and he would
again have had recourse to poison as a refuge from all, if a dim ray of
hope had not permitted him to believe in their escape. But all the same
he was sunk in despair, and behaved as though he had nothing on earth
left to live for. Gorgo tried to console him, encouraged his belief in
her brothers’ possible safety, reminded him that it was the duty of a
philosopher to bear the strokes of Fate with fortitude; but he would not
listen to her, and only varied his lamentations with bursts of rage.
At last he said he wished to be alone and reminded Gorgo that she ought
to go to Dada. His daughter obeyed, but against her will; in spite of
all that Demetrius had said in the young girl’s favor she felt a little
shy of her, and in approaching her more closely she had something of
the feeling of a fine lady who condescends to enter the squalid hovel of
poverty. But her father was right: Dada was her guest and she must treat
her with kindness.
Outside the door of the music-room she dried away her tears for her
brothers, for her emotion seemed to her too sacred to be confessed to a
creature who boldly defied the laws laid down by custom for the conduct
of women. From Dada’s appearance she felt sure that all those lofty
ideas, which she herself had been taught to call “moral dignity” and
“a yearning for the highest things,” must be quite foreign to this girl
with whom her cousin had condescended to intrigue. She felt herself
immeasurably her superior; but it would be ungenerous to allow her
to see this, and she spoke very kindly; but Dada answered timidly and
formally.
“I am glad,” Gorgo began, “that accident brought you in our way;” and
Dada replied hastily: “I owe it to your father’s kindness, and not to
accident.”
“Yes, he is very kind,” said Gorgo, ignoring Dada’s indignant tone. “And
the last few hours have brought him terrible sorrows. You have heard, no
doubt, that he has lost his mother; you knew her--she had taken quite a
fancy to you, I suppose you know.”
“Oh! forget it!” cried Dada.
“She was hard to win,” Gorgo went on, “but she liked you. Do you not
believe me? You should have seen how carefully she chose the dress you
have on at this minute, and matched the ornaments to wear with it.”
“Pray, pray say no more about it,” Dada begged. “She is dead, and I have
forgiven her--but she thought badly, very badly of me.”
“It is very bad of you to speak so,” interrupted Gorgo, making no
attempt to conceal her annoyance at the girl’s reply. “She--who is
dead--deserves more gratitude for her liberality and kindness!”
Dada shook her head.
“No,” she said firmly. “I am grateful, even for the smallest kindness; I
have not often met with disinterested generosity. But she had an end in
view--I must say it once for all. She wanted to make use of me to bring
shame on Marcus and grief on his mother. You surely must know it; for
why should you have thought me too vile to sing with you if you did not
believe that I was a good-for-nothing hussy, and quite ready to do your
dead grandmother’s bidding? Everybody, of course, looked down upon us
all and thought we must be wicked because we were singers; but you knew
better; you made a distinction; for you invited Agne to come to your
house and sing with you.--No, unless you wish to insult me, say no more
about my owing the dead lady a debt of gratitude!”
Gorgo’s eyes fell; but presently she looked up again and said:
“You do not know what that poor soul had suffered. Mary, her son’s
widow, had been very cruel to her, had done her injuries she could never
forgive--so perhaps you are right in your notion; but all the same,
my grandmother had a great liking for you--and after all her wish is
fulfilled, for Marcus has found you and he loves you, too, if I am not
mistaken!”
“If you are not mistaken!” retorted Dada. “The gods forefend!--Yes, we
have found each other, we love each other. Why should I conceal it?”
“And Mary, his mother--what has she to say to it?” asked Gorgo.
“I do not know,” replied Dada abashed.
“But she is his mother, you know!” cried Gorgo severely. “And he will
never--never--marry against her will. He depends on her for all that he
has in the world.”
“Then let her keep it!” exclaimed Dada. “The smaller and humbler the
home he gives me the better I shall like it. I want his love and nothing
more. All--all he desires of me is right and good; he is not like other
men; he does not care for nothing but my pretty face. I will do whatever
he bids me in perfect confidence; and what he thinks about me you may
judge for yourself, for he is going to put me in the care of his tutor
Eusebius.”
“Then you have accepted his creed?” asked Gorgo. “Certainly I have,”
said Dada.
“I am glad of that for his sake,” said the merchant’s daughter. “And if
the Christians only did what their preachers enjoin on them one might be
glad to become one. But they make a riot and destroy everything that is
fine and beautiful. What have you to say to that--you, who were brought
up by Karnis, a true votary of the Muses?”
“I?” said Dada. “There are bad men everywhere, and when they rise
to destroy what is beautiful I am very sorry. But we can love it and
cherish it all the same.”
“You are happy indeed if you can shut your eyes at the dictates of your
heart!” retorted Gorgo, but she sighed. “Happy are they and much to be
envied who can compel their judgment to silence when it is grief to
hear its voice. I--I who have been taught to think, cannot abandon
my judgment; it builds up a barrier between me and the happiness that
beckons me. And yet, so long as truth remains the highest aim of man, I
will bless the faculty of seeking it with all the powers of my mind.
My betrothed husband, like yours, is a Christian; and I would I could
accept his creed as unflinchingly as you; but it is not in my nature
to leap into a pool when I know that it is full of currents and
whirlpools.--However, the present question has to do with you and not
with me. Marcus, no doubt, will be happy to have won you; but if he does
not succeed in gaining his mother’s consent he will not continue happy
you may rely upon it. I know these Christians! they cannot conceive of
any possible joy in married life without their parents’ blessing, and
if Marcus defies his mother he will torture his conscience and lead a
death-in-life, as though he were under some heavy load of guilt.”
“For all that, and all that,” Dada insisted, “he can no more be happy
without me than I can without him. I have never in my life paid court to
any one, but I have always met with kindness. Why then should I not be
able to win his mother’s heart? I will wager anything and everything
that she will take kindly to me, for, after all, she must be glad when
she sees her son happy. Eusebius will speak for us and she will give
its her blessing! But if it is not to be, if I may never be his wife
honestly and in the face of the world, still I will not give him up, nor
he me. He may deal with me as he will--as if he were my god and I were
his slave!”
“But, my poor child, do you know nothing of womanly honor and womanly
dignity?” cried Gorgo clasping her hands. “You complain of the lot of
a singing-girl, and the cruel prejudices of the world--and what are you
saying? Let me have my way, you would say, or I scorn your morality?”
“Scorn!” exclaimed Dada firing up. “Do you say I scorn morality? No,
indeed no. I am an insignificant little person; there is nothing proud
or great about me, and as I know it full well I am quite humble; in all
my life I never dared to think of scorn, even of a child. But here,
in my heart, something was awoke to life--through Marcus, only through
him--something that makes me strong; and when I see custom and tradition
in league against me because I am a singer, when they combine to keep me
out of what I have a right to have--well, within these few hours I have
found the spirit to defend myself, to the death if need be! What you
call womanly honor I have been taught to hold as sacred as you yourself,
and I have kept it as untainted as any girl living. Not that I meant
to do anything grand, but you have no idea of what it is when every man
thinks he has a right to oppress and insult a girl and try to entrap
her. You, and others like you, know nothing of small things, for you are
sheltered by walls and privileges. We are every man’s game, while they
approach you as humbly as if you were goddesses.--Besides! It is not
only what I have heard from Karnis, who knows the world and fine folks
like you; I have seen it for myself at Rome, in the senators’ houses,
where there were plenty of young lords and great men’s daughters--for
I have not gone through life with my eyes shut; with you love is like
lukewarm water in a bath, but it catches us like fire. Sappho of Lesbos
flung herself from the Leucadian rock because Phaon flouted her, and if
I could save Marcus from any calamity by doing the same, I would follow
her example.--You have a lover, too; but your feeling for him, with all
the ‘intellect’ and ‘reflections,’ and ‘thought’ of which you spoke,
cannot be the right one. There is no but or if in my love at any rate;
and yet, for all that, my heart aches so sorely and beats so wildly,
I will wait patiently with Eusebius and submit to whatever I am
bidden.--And in spite of it all you condemn me unheard, for you.... But
why do you stand and look like that? You look just like you did that
time when I heard you sing. By all the Muses! but you, too, like us,
have some fire in your veins, you are not one of the lukewarm sort; you
are an artist, and a better one than I; and if you ever should feel the
right love, then--then take care lest you break loose from propriety
and custom--or whatever name you give to the sacred powers that subdue
passion--even more wildly than I--who am an honest girl, and mean to
remain so, for all the fire and flame in my breast!”
Gorgo remembered the hour in which she had, in fact, proffered to the
man of her choice as a free gift, the love which, by every canon of
propriety, she ought only to have granted to his urgent wooing. She
blushed and her eyes fell before the humble little singer; but while
she was considering what answer she could make men’s steps were heard
approaching, and presently Eusebius and Marcus entered the room,
followed by Gorgo’s lover. Constantine was in deep dejection, for one of
his brothers had lost his life in the burning of his father’s ship-yard,
and as compared with this grief, the destruction of the timber stores
which constituted the chief part of his wealth scarcely counted as a
calamity.
Gorgo had met him with a doubtful and embarrassed air; but when she
learnt of the blow that had fallen on him and his parents, she clung to
him caressingly and tried to comfort him. The others sympathized deeply
with his sorrow; but soon it was Dada’s turn to weep, for Eusebius
brought the news of her foster-parent’s death in the fight at the
Serapeum, and of Orpheus being severely wounded.
The cheerful music-room was a scene of woe till Demetrius came to
conduct his brother and Dada to the widow Mary who was expecting them.
He had arrived in a chariot, for he declared his legs would no longer
carry him. “Men,” said he, “are like horses. A swift saddle-horse is
soon tired when it is driven in harness and a heavy cart-horse when
it is made to gallop. His hoofs were spoilt for city pavements, and
scheming, struggling and running about the streets were too much for his
country brains and wore him out, as trotting under a saddle would weary
a plough-horse. He thanked the gods that this day was over. He would
not be rested enough till to-morrow to be really glad of all his
success.”--But in spite of this assertion he was radiant with
overflowing satisfaction, and that in itself cheered the mourners whom
he tried to encourage. When he said they must be going, Gorgo kissed the
little singer; indeed, as soon as she saw how deeply she was grieved,
shedding bitter but silent tears, she had hastened to take her in her
arms and comfort her like a sister.
Constantine, Gorgo and old Eusebius were left together, and the young
girl was longing to unburden her over-full heart. She had agreed to
her lover’s request that she would at once accompany him to see his
sorrowing parents; still, she could not appear before the old Christian
couple and crave their blessing in her present mood. Recent events
had embittered her happy belief in the creed into which she had thrown
herself, and much as it pained her to add a drop to Constantine’s cup of
sorrow, duty and honesty commanded that she should show him the secrets
of her soul and the doubts and questionings which had begun to trouble
her. The old priest’s presence was a comfort to her; for her earnest
wish was to become a Christian from conviction; as soon as they were
alone she poured out before them all the accusations she had to bring
against the adherents of their Faith: They had triumphed in ruining the
creations of Art; the Temple of Isis and the ship-yard lay in ashes,
destroyed by Christian incendiaries; their tears were not yet dry
when they flowed afresh for the sons of Porphyrius--Christians
themselves--who, unless some happy accident had saved them, must have
perished with thousands of innocent sufferers--believers and infidels
together--by the orders of the Emperor whom Constantine had always
lauded as a wise sovereign and pious Christian, as the Defender of the
Faith, and as a faithful disciple of the Redeemer.
When, at last, she came to an end of her indictment she appealed
to Constantine and Eusebius to defend the proceedings of their
co-religionists, and to give her good grounds for confessing a creed
which could sanction such ruthless deeds.
Neither the Deacon nor his pupil attempted to excuse these acts; nay,
Constantine thought they were in plain defiance of that high law of
Love which the Christian Faith imposes on all its followers. The wicked
servant, he declared, had committed crimes in direct opposition to the
spirit and the letter of the Master.
But this admission by no means satisfied Gorgo; she represented to
the young Christian that a master must be judged by the deeds of his
servant; she herself had turned from the old gods only because she felt
such intense contempt for their worshippers; but now it had been her lot
to see--the Deacon must pardon her for saying so--that many a Christian
far outdid the infidels in coarse brutality and cruelty. Such an
experience had filled her with distrust of the creed she was required to
subscribe to--she was shaken to the very foundations of her being.
Eusebius had, till now, listened in silence; but as she ended he went
towards her, and asked her gently whether she would think it right
to turn the fertilizing Nile from its bed and leave its shores dry,
because, from time to time, it destroyed fields and villages in the
excess of its overflow? “This day and its deeds of shame,” he went on
sadly, “are a blot on the pure and sublime book of the History of our
Faith, and every true Christian must bitterly bewail the excesses of
a frenzied mob. The Church must no less condemn Caesar’s sanguinary
vengeance; it casts a shade on his honor and his fair name, and his
conscience no doubt will punish him for such a crime. Far be it from me
to defend deeds which nothing can justify...”
But Gorgo interrupted him. “All this,” she said, “does not alter the
fact that such crimes are just as possible and as frequent with you, as
with those whom I am expected to give up, and who...”
“But it is not merely on account of their ill deeds that you are giving
them up, Gorgo,” Constantine broke in. “Confess, dear girl, that your
wrath makes you unjust to yourself and your own heart. It was not out of
aversion for the ruthless and base adherents of the old gods but--as
I hope and believe--out of love for me that you consented to adopt my
faith--our faith.”
“True, true,” she exclaimed, coloring as she remembered the doubts Dada
had cast on the truth of her love.
“True, out of love for you--love of Love and of peace, I consented
to become a Christian. But with regard to the deeds committed by your
followers, tell me yourself--and I appeal to you reverend Father--what
inspired them: Love or Hate.”
“Hate!” said Constantine gloomily; and Eusebius added sorrowfully
“In these dark days our Faith is seen under an aspect that by no means
fairly represents its true nature, noble lady; trust my words! Have you
not yourself seen, even in your short life, that what is highest and
greatest can in its excess, be all that is most hideous? A noble pride,
if not kept within bounds, becomes overweening ambition; the lovely
grace of humility degenerates into an indolent sacrifice of opinion and
will; high-hearted enterprise into a mad chase after fortune, in which
we ride down everything that comes in the way of success. What is nobler
than a mother’s love, but when she fights for her child she becomes a
raving Megaera. In the same way the Faith--the consoler of hearts--turns
to a raging wild-beast when it stoops to become religious partisanship.
If you would really understand Christianity you must look neither down
to the deluded masses, and those ambitious worldlings who only use it
as a means to an end by inflaming their baser passions, nor up to the
throne, where power translates the impulse of a disastrous moment into
sinister deeds. If you want to know what true and pure Christianity is,
look into our homes, look at the family life of our fellow believers.
I know them well, for my humble functions lead me into daily and hourly
intercourse with them. Look to them if you purpose to give your hand to
a Christian and make your home with him. There, my child, you will
see all the blessings of the Saviour’s teaching, love and soberness,
pitifulness to the poor and a real heart-felt eagerness to forgive
injuries. I have seen a Christian bestow his last crust on his hapless
foe, on the enemy of his house, on the Heathen or the Jew, because they,
too, are men, because our neighbor’s woes should be as our own--I
have seen them taken in and cherished as though they were
fellow-Christians.--There you will find a striving after all that is
good, a never-fading hope in better days to come, even under the worst
afflictions; and when death requires the sacrifice of all that is
dearest, or swoops down on life itself, a firm assurance of the
forgiveness of sins through Christ. Believe me, mistress, there is no
home so happy as that of the Christian; for he who really apprehends the
Saviour and understands his teaching need not mar his own joys in this
life to the end that he may be a partaker of the bliss of the next.
On the contrary: He who called the erring to himself, who drew little
children to his heart, who esteemed the poor above the rich, who was
a cheerful guest at wedding-feasts, who bid us gain interest on the
spiritual talents in our care, who commanded us to remember Him at a
social meal, who opened hearts to love--He longed to release the life
of the humblest creature from want and suffering. Where love and peace
reign must there not be happiness? And as He preached love and peace
above all else, He cannot have desired that we should intentionally
darken our lives on earth and load them with sorrow and miseries in
order to will our share of Heaven. The soul that is full of the happy
confidence of being one with Him and his love, is released from the
bondage of sin and sorrow, even here below; for Jesus has taken all the
sins and pains of the world on himself; and if Fate visits the Christian
with the heaviest blows he bears them in silence and patience. Our Lord
is Love itself; neither hatred nor envy are known to Him as they are to
the gods of the Heathen; and when he afflicts us, it is as the wise and
tender pastor of our souls, and for our good. The omniscient Lord knows
his own counsel, and the Christian submits as a child does to a wise
father whose loving kindness he can always trust; nay, he can even thank
him for sorrow and pain as though they were pleasurable benefits.”
Gorgo shook her head.
“That all sounds very beautiful and good; it is required of the
Christian, and sometimes, no doubt, fulfilled; but the Stoa demands the
same virtues of its disciples. You, Constantine, knew Damon the Stoic,
and you will remember how strictly he enjoined on all that they should
rise superior to pain and grief. And then, when his only daughter
lost her sight--she was a great friend of mine--he behaved like one
possessed. My father, too, has often spoken to you of philosophy as a
help to contemning the discomforts of life, and bearing the sports of
Fate with a lofty mind; and now? You should see the poor man, reverend
Father. What good have all the teachings of the great master done him?”
“But he has lost so much--so much!” sighed Constantine thinking of his
own loss; and Eusebius shook his head.
“In sorrow such as his, no philosophy, no mental effort can avail. The
blows that wound the affections can only be healed by the affections,
and not by the intellect and considerations of reason. Faith, child!
Faith is the true Herb of Grace. The intellect is its foe; the feelings
are its native soil where it finds constant nourishment; and however
deep the bleeding wound of the mourner may be, Faith can heal it and
reconcile the sufferer to his loss. You have been taught to value a fine
understanding, to measure everything by it, to build everything on its
decisions. To you the knowledge you have attained to by argument and
inference is supreme; but the Creator has given us a heart as well as
a brain; our affections, too, stir and grow in their own way, and the
knowledge they can attain to, my child, is Faith. You love--and Love
is part of your affections; and now take my advice; do not let that
reasoning intelligence, which has nothing to do with love, have anything
to say in the matter; cherish your love and nurture it from the
rich stores of your heart; thus only can it thrive to beauty and
harmony.--And this must suffice for to-day, for I have already kept the
wounded waiting too long in the Serapeum. If you desire it, another time
I will show you Christianity in all its depth and beauty, and your
love for this good man will prepare the way and open your heart to my
teaching. A day will come when you will be able to listen to the voice
of your heart as gladly as you have hitherto obeyed the dictates of your
intellect; something new will be born in you which you will esteem as
a treasure above all you ever acquired by reason and thought. That day
will assuredly dawn on you; for he whom you love has opened the path for
you that leads to the gates of Truth; and as you seek you will not fail
to find.--And so farewell. When you crave a teacher you have only to
come to him--and I know he will not have long to wait.”
Gorgo looked thoughtfully at the old man as he went away and then went
with Constantine to see his parents. It was in total silence that they
made their way along the short piece of road to the house of Clemens.
Lights were visible in the viridarium and the curtains of the doorway
were drawn back; as they reached the threshold Constantine pointed to
a bier which had been placed in the little court among the flower-beds;
his parents were on their knees by the side of it.
Neither he nor Gorgo ventured to disturb their wordless devotions, but
presently the ship-master rose, drawing his fine, stalwart figure to its
full height; then turning his kind, manly, grave face to his wife, who
had also risen to her feet, he laid one hand on her still abundant white
hair and held out the other which she took in hers. Mariamne dried her
eyes and looked up, in her husband’s face as he said firmly and calmly:
“The Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away!’ She hid her face on his
shoulder and responded sadly but fervently:
“Blessed be the name of the Lord!”
“Yea--Blessed!” repeated Clemens emphatically but he passed his arm
across his eyes. “For thirty-two years hath He lent him to us; and in
our hearts....” and he struck his broad breast, “in here, he will never
die for you or for me. As for the rest--and there was a deal of property
of our own and of other folks in these wood-piles--well, in time we
shall get over that. We may bless the Almighty for what we have left!”
Gorgo felt her lover’s hand grasp hers more tightly and she understood
what he meant; she clung closer to him and whispered softly: “Yes, that
is grand--that is the Truth.”