TIDINGS FROM ROME.
Time and the tide wear through the longest day.
SHAKSPEARE.
"At last, I have thee, Julia!"
Mighty indeed was the effort of the mind, which enabled that fair slight
girl to bear up with an undaunted lip and serene eye against the presence
of that atrocious villain; and hope, never-dying hope, was the spirit
which nerved her to that effort.
It was strange, knowing as she did the character of that atrocious and
bloodthirsty tyrant, that she should not have given way entirely to
feminine despair and terror, or sought by tears and prayers to disarm his
purpose.
But her high blood cried out from every vein and artery of her body; and
she stood calm and sustained by conscious virtue, even in that extremity
of peril; neither tempting assault by any display of coward weakness, nor
provoking it by any show of defiance.
There is nothing, perhaps, so difficult to any one who is not a butcher or
an executioner by trade, with sensibilities blunted by the force of habit,
as to attack or injure any thing, which neither flies, nor resists,
neither braves, nor trembles.
And Catiline himself, savage and brutal as he was, full of ungoverned
impulse and unbridled passion, felt, though he knew not wherefore, this
difficulty at this moment.
Had she fallen at his feet, trembling, and tearful, and implored his
mercy, he would have gloated on her terrors, laughed tears and prayers to
scorn, yea! torn her from an altar’s foot, to pour out upon her the vials
of agony and foul pollution.
Had she defied, or braved his violence, his fury would have trampled her
to the earth in an instant, and murder would have followed in the
footsteps of worse violence.
But as she stood there, firm, cold, erect, and motionless as a statue of
rare marble, with scarcely a pulse throbbing in her veins, and her clear
azure eyes fixed on him with a cold and steady gaze, as if she would have
fascinated him by their serene chaste influence, he likewise stood and
gazed upon her with a strange mixture of impressions, wherein something
akin to love and admiration were blent with what, in minds of better
mould, should have been reverence and awe.
He felt, in short, that he lacked ’a spur to prick the sides of his
intent,’ a provocation to insult and aggression yet stronger than the
passion and hot thirst of vengeance, which had been well nigh chilled by
her severe and icy fortitude.
’Tis said that a lion will turn and flee,
From a maid in the pride of her purity;
and here a fiercer and more dangerous savage stood powerless and daunted
for the moment, by the same holy influence of virtue, which, it is said,
has potency to tame the pinched king of the desert.
It was not, however, in the nature of that man to yield himself up long to
any influence, save that of his own passions, and after standing mute for
perhaps a minute, during which the flush on his sallow cheek, and the
glare of his fiery eye, were blanched and dimmed somewhat, he advanced a
step or two toward her, repeating the words,
"I have thee; thou art mine, Julia."
"Thy prisoner, Catiline," she replied quietly—"if you make women
prisoners."
"My slave, minion."
"I am free-born, and noble. A patrician of a house as ancient as thine
own. My ancestors, I have heard say, fought side by side with Sergius
Silo."
"The more cause, that their daughter should sleep side by side with
Sergius Catiline!" he replied with bitter irony; but there was less of
actual passion in his tones, than of a desire to lash himself into fury.
"The less cause that a free-born lady should be disgraced by the grandson
of his comrade in arms, who gave her father being."
Thus far her replies had been conducted in the spirit most likely to
control, if any thing could control, the demon that possessed him; but
seeing that her words had produced more effect on him than she had deemed
possible, she made an effort to improve her advantage, and added, looking
him firmly in the eye,
"I have heard tell that thou art proud, Catiline, as thou art nobly born.
Let, then, thine own pride"——
"Proud! Proud! Ha! minion! What have your _nobles_ left me that I should
glory in—what of which I may still be proud? A name of the grandest,
blasted by their base lies, and infamous! Service converted into shame!
valor warped into crime! At home poverty, degradation, ruin! Abroad, debt,
mockery, disgrace! Proud! proud! By Nemesis! fond girl. I am proud—to be
the thing that they have made me, a terror, and a curse to all who call
themselves patrician. For daring, remorseless! for brave, cruel! for
voluptuous, sensual! for fearless, ruthless! for enterprising, reckless!
for ambitious, desperate! for a man, a monster! for a philosopher, an
atheist! Ha! ha! ha! ha! I am proud, minion, proud to be that I am—that
which thou, Julia, shalt soon find me!"
She perceived, when it was too late, the error which she had made, and
fearful of incensing him farther, answered nothing. But he was not so to
be set at naught, for he had succeeded now in lashing himself into a fit
of fury, and advancing upon her, with a face full of all hideous passions,
a face that denoted his fell purpose, as plainly as any words could
declare them.
"Dost hear me, girl, I say? Thou art mine, Julia."
"Thy prisoner, Catiline," she again repeated in the same steady tone as at
first; but the charm had now failed of its effect, and it was fortunate
for the sweet girl, that the fell wretch before whom she stood
defenceless, had so much of the cat-like, tiger-like spirit in his nature,
so much that prompted him to tantalize and torment before striking, to
teaze and harass and break down the mind, before doing violence to the
body of his subject enemies, or of those whom he chose to deem such.
Had he suspected at this moment that any chance of succor was at hand,
however remote, he lacked neither the will nor the occasion to destroy
her. He fancied that she was completely at his mercy; and perceiving that,
in despite of her assumed coolness, she writhed beneath the terrors of his
tongue, he revelled in the fiendish pleasure of triumphing in words over
her spirit, before wreaking his vengeance on her person.
"My slave! Julia. My slave, soul and body! my slave, here and for ever!
Slave to my passions, and my pleasures! Wilt yield, or resist, fair girl?
Resist, I do beseech thee! Let some fire animate those lovely eyes, even
if it be the fire of fury—some light kindle those pallid cheeks, even if
it be the light of hatred! I am aweary of tame conquests."
"Then wherefore conquer; or conquering, wherefore not spare?"—she
answered.
"I conquer, to slake my thirst of vengeance. I spare not, for the wise
man’s word to the fallen, is still, VÆ VICTIS. Wilt yield, or resist,
Julia? wilt be the sharer, or the victim of my pleasures? speak, I say,
speak!" he shouted savagely, perceiving that she sought to evade a direct
answer. "Speak and reply, directly, or I will do to thee forthwith what
most thou dreadest! and then wipe out thy shame by agonies of death, to
which the tortures of old Regulus were luxury."
"If I must choose, the victim!" she replied steadily. "But I believe you
will not so disgrace your manhood."
"Ha! you believe so, you shall feel soon and know. One question more, wilt
thou yield or resist?"—
"Resist," she answered, "to the last, and when dishonored, die, and by
death, like Lucretia, win back greater honor! Lucretia’s death had
witnesses, and her tale found men’s ears."
"Thy death shall be silent, thy shame loud. I will proclaim the first my
deed, the last thy voluntary——."
"Proclaim it!"—she interrupted him, with her eyes flashing bright
indignation, and her lip curling with ineffable disdain; as she forgot all
prudence in the scorn called forth by his injurious words—"Proclaim it to
the world! who will believe it?"—
"The world. Frailty’s name is woman!"—
"And Falsehood’s—Catiline!"—
"By Hades!"—and he sprang upon her with a bound like that of a tiger, and
twined his arms about her waist, clasping her to his breast with brutal
violence, and striving to press his foul lips on her innocent mouth; but
she, endowed with momentary strength, infinitely unwonted and unnatural,
the strength of despair and frenzy, caught his bare throat with both her
hands, and writhing herself back to the full length of her arms, uttered a
volume of shrieks, so awfully shrill and piercing, that they struck terror
into the souls of the brutal rebels without, and harrowed up the spirits
of her friends, who lay concealed within earshot, waiting, now almost in
despair, an opportunity to aid her.
So strong was the clutch which her small hands had fixed upon his throat,
that ere he could release himself, sufficiently to draw a full breath, he
was compelled to let her go; and ere he fully recovered himself, she had
made a spring back toward the window, with the evident purpose of throwing
herself out into the yawning gulf below it.
But something caught her eye which apparently deterred her, and turning
her back upon it quickly, she faced her persecutor once again.
At this moment, there was a loud and angry bustle in the outer court,
immediately followed by a violent knocking at the door; but so terrible
was the excitement of both these human beings, her’s the excitement of
innocence in trial, his of atrocity triumphant, that neither heard it,
though it was sudden and strong enough to have startled any sleepers, save
those of the grave.
"Ha! but this charms me! I knew not that you had so much of the Tigress to
fit you for the Tiger’s mate. But what a fool you are to waste your breath
in yells and your strength in struggles, like to those, when there are
none to hear, or to witness them."
"Witnesses are found to all crimes right early and avengers!" she
exclaimed with the high mien of a prophetess; and still that vehement
knocking continued, unheeded as the earthquake which reeled unnoticed
beneath the feet of the combatants at Thrasymene.
"To this at least there are no witnesses! there shall be no avengers!"
"The Gods are my witnesses! shall be my avengers!"
"Tush! there are no Gods, Julia!"
And again he rushed on her and caught her in his arms. But as he spoke
those impious words, sprang to do that atrocious deed, a witness was
found, and it might be an avenger.
Unnoticed by the traitor in the fierce whirlwind of his passion, that
hunter boy stood forth on the further brink; revealed, a boy no longer;
for the Phrygian bonnet had fallen off, and the redundant raven tresses of
a girl flowed back on the wind. Her attitude and air were those of Diana
as she bent her good bow against the ravisher Orion. Her right foot
advanced firmly, her right hand drawn back to the ear, her fine eye
glaring upon the arrow which bore with unerring aim full on the breast of
her own corrupter, her own father, Catiline.
Who had more wrongs to avenge than Lucia?
Another second, and the shaft would have quivered in the heart of the arch
villain, sped by the hand from which he deserved it the most dearly. The
room within was brighter than day from the red torch light which filled
it, falling full on the gaunt form and grim visage of the monster. Her
hand was firm, her eye steady, her heart pitiless. But in the better
course of her changed life, heaven spared her the dread crime of
parricide.
Just as the chord was at the tightest, just as the feathers quivered, and
the barb thrilled, about to leap from the terse string, the tall form of
the soldier sprang up into the clear moonlight from the underwood, and
crying "Hold! hold!" mastered her bowhand, with the speed of light, and
dragged her down into the covert.
Well was it that he did so. For just as Catiline seized Julia the second
time in his resistless grasp, and ere his lips had contaminated her sweet
mouth, the giant Crispus, who had so long been knocking unheeded, rushed
into the room, and seized his leader by the shoulder unseen, until he
literally touched him.
"Another time for this;" he said, "Catiline. There are tidings from Rome;
which—"
"To Tartarus with thy tidings! Let them tarry!"
"They will not tarry, Catiline," replied the smith, who was as pale as a
ghost and almost trembling—"least of all for such painted woman’s flesh as
this is!"
"Get thee away! It were better, wiser, safer to stand between the Lion and
his prey, than between Catiline and Julia."
"Then have it!" shouted the smith. "All is discovered! all undone!
Lentulus and Cethegus, Gabinius and Statilius, and Cæparius all dead by
the hangman’s noose in the Tullianum!"
"The idiots! is that all? thy precious tidings! See! how I will avenge
them." And he struggled to shake himself free from the grasp of Crispus.
But the smith held him firmly, and replied, "It is not all, Catiline.
Metellus Celer is within ten leagues of the camp, at the foot of the
mountains. We have no retreat left into Gaul. Come! come! speak to the
soldiers! You can deal with this harlotry hereafter."
Catiline glared upon him, as if he would have stabbed him to the heart;
but seeing the absolute necessity of enquiring into the truth of this
report, he turned to leave the room.
"The Gods be praised! the Gods have spoken loud! The Gods have saved me!"
cried Julia falling on her knees. "Are there no Gods now, O Catiline?"
"To Hades! with thy Gods!" and, striking the unhappy girl a coward blow,
which felled her to the ground senseless, he rushed from the room with his
confederate in crime, barring the outer door behind him.