%. 
 
 ,w, 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 IMAGE EVALUATION 
 TEST TARGET (MT-3) 
 
 k 
 
 
 
 
 A 
 
 ^ 
 
 1.0 Ifi^ 
 
 I.I 
 
 11.25 
 
 2.5 
 
 ^ 1^ ili2-0 
 
 1= 
 
 JA IIIIII.6 
 
 % 
 
 # 
 
 "% 
 
 /i 
 
 / 
 
 
 
 
 U>^^ 
 
 Photographic 
 
 Sciences 
 Corporation 
 
 23 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, NY. 14580 
 
 (716) 872-4503 
 
 A 
 
 
 i\ 
 
 iV 
 
 \\ 
 
 '<b 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^\ 
 
 ». 
 
 O^ 
 
 <» ^ 
 
 >s 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^^ 
 
 ''%)ir ' 
 
■ A 
 
 <te «>. 
 
 j,,^. 
 
 
 <;. 
 
 f/^ 
 
 CIHM 
 Microfiche 
 Series 
 (l\/lonograplis) 
 
 ICiVIH 
 
 Collection de 
 microfiches 
 (monographies) 
 
 Canadian Institute for Historical Microroproductions / Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques 
 
 nn 
 
Technical and Bibliographic Notes / Notes techniques et bibliographiques 
 
 The InKtitute has attempted to ootain the best original 
 copy available for filming. Features of this copy which 
 may be bibliographically unique, which may alter any 
 of the images in the reproduction, or which may 
 significantly change the usual method of filming, are 
 checked below. 
 
 Coloured covers/ 
 Couverture de couleur 
 
 □ Covers damaged/ 
 Couverture endommag^ 
 
 Covers restored and/or laminated/ 
 Couverture restauree et/ou pelliculie 
 
 D 
 
 □ Cover title missing/ 
 Le titre de couvertu 
 
 couverture manque 
 
 I I Coloured maps/ 
 
 Caites g^ographiques en couleur 
 
 Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black)/ 
 Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire) 
 
 Coloured plates and/or illustrations/ 
 Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur 
 
 Bound with other material/ 
 I I Reiie avec d'a'itres documents 
 
 
 
 n 
 
 n 
 
 n 
 
 Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion 
 along interior r.iargin/ 
 
 La reliure serree peut causer de I'ombre ou de la 
 distorsion le long de la marge interieure 
 
 Blank leaves added during restoration may appear 
 within the text. Whenever possible, these have 
 been omitted from filming/ 
 M se peut que certaines pages blanchei ajouties 
 lors d'une restauration apparaissent dans le texte, 
 mais, lorsque cela etait possible, ces pages n'ont 
 pas ete filmees. 
 
 Additional comments:/ 
 Commentaires supplementaires: 
 
 This Item is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/ 
 
 ^ document est filme au taux de reduction indique ci-dessous. 
 
 "2^ 14X 18X 
 
 12X 
 
 16X 
 
 20X 
 
 L'Institut a microfilrti^ le meilleur exemplaire qu'il 
 lui a et6 possible de se procurer. Les details de cet 
 exemplaire qui sont peut-£tre uniques du point de vue 
 bibliographique, qui peuvent modifier une image 
 reproduite. ou qui peuvent exiger ine modif icaticn 
 dans la methode normale de f ilmage sont indiques 
 ci-dessous. 
 
 Coloured pages/ 
 
 □ Colouret 
 Paoes de 
 
 couleur 
 
 □ Pages damaged/ 
 Paqes endommagees 
 
 □ Pages restored and/or laminated/ 
 Pages restaurees et/ou pellicultes 
 
 □ Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/ 
 Pages decolorees, tachetees ou piquees 
 
 □ Pages detached/ 
 Pages detachees 
 
 □ Showthrough/ 
 Transparence 
 
 □ Quality of print varies/ 
 Qualite inegale de Time 
 
 mpression 
 
 Continuous pagination/ 
 Pagination continue 
 
 n 
 
 □ Includes index(es)/ 
 Comprend un (des) index 
 
 Title on header taken from:/ 
 Le titre de I'en-tSte provient: 
 
 □ Title page of issue 
 Page de titre de la 
 
 □ Caption of 
 Titre de de 
 
 livraison 
 
 issue/ 
 depart de la livraison 
 
 □ Masthead/ 
 Gener 
 
 ique (periodiques) de la livraison 
 
 r?v 
 
 / 
 
 30X 
 
 24X 
 
 28X 
 
 3 
 
 32 X 
 
lu'il 
 
 cet 
 
 de vue 
 
 e 
 
 tir>n 
 
 les 
 
 The copy filmed hore has been reproduced thanks 
 to the generosity of: 
 
 National Library of Canada 
 
 The images appearing here are the best quality 
 possible considering the condition and legibility 
 of the original copy and in keeping with the 
 filming contract specifications. 
 
 Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed 
 beginning with the front cover and ending on 
 the last page with a printed or illustrated impres- 
 sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All 
 other original copies are filmed beginning on the 
 first page with a printed or illustrated impres- 
 sion, and ending on the last page with a pri ited 
 or illustrated impression. 
 
 The last recorded frame on each microfiche 
 shall contain the symbol — **► (meaning "CON- 
 TINUED"), or the symbol V (meaning "END"), 
 whichever applies. 
 
 Maps, pirtes, charts, 3tc.. may be filmed at 
 different reduction ratios. Those too large to ba 
 entirely included in one exposure are filmed 
 beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to 
 right and top to bottom, as many frames as 
 required. The following diagrams illustrate the 
 method: 
 
 L'exemplaire film6 fut reprodult grSce d la 
 g6ndrositd de: 
 
 Bibliothdque nationale du Canada 
 
 Les images suivantes ont 6x6 reproduites avec le 
 plus grand soin, compto tenu de la condition et 
 de la nettetd de l'exemplaire film6, et en 
 confo;mit6 avec les conditions du contrat de 
 filmage. 
 
 Les exemplalres originaux dont la couverture en 
 papier es'i imprim6e sont film^s en commen^ant 
 par le premier plat et en terminant soit par la 
 dernidre page qui comporte une empreinte 
 d'impresslcn ou d'illustrdtion, soit par le second 
 plat, selon le cas. Tous les autres exemplaires 
 origiriaux sont filings en commenpant par la 
 premid e page qui comporte une empreinte 
 d'impression ou d'illustration et en terminant par 
 la dernidre page qui comporte une telle 
 empreinte. 
 
 Un des symboles suivants apparaitra sur la 
 dernidre image de cheque microfiche, selon le 
 cas: le symbole — ► signifie "A SUIVRE". le 
 symbole V signifie "FIN". 
 
 Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent §tre 
 film6s 6 des taux de reduction diff^rents. 
 Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre 
 reproduit en un seul clich6, il est film6 d partir 
 de I'angle supdrieur gauche, de gauche d droite, 
 et de ha-it en bas, en prenant le nombre 
 d'images n6cess3ire. Les diagrammes suivants 
 illustrent la m^thode. 
 
 1 
 
 2 
 
 3 
 
 22X 
 
 1 
 
 2 
 
 3 
 
 4 
 
 5 
 
 6 
 

 
 ', fti.'^i'ps 'Jig 
 
 r^iiP:^^ 
 
 
 
 
" i-a'Mcia a„ Canada 
 
 \\>\^'.l 
 
 '•^//j»u\\^ 
 
f. 4 
 
 /V6C^ 
 
 
 
 ;,-.y 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
I 
 
EMPRESS OCTAVIA 
 
 A Romance of the Reign of Nero 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN 
 OP 
 
 WILHELM WALLOTH 
 
 Author of " The King's Treasure House," etc. 
 
 By MARY J. SAFFORD 
 
 I 
 
 TORONTO 
 THE MUSSON BOOK COMPANY 
 
 1900 
 
0M'(I3 
 
 Copyright, 1900, 
 By Little, Brown, and Company 
 
 W// rights reserved 
 
 UNIVERSITY PRESS • JOHN WILSON 
 AND SON • CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A. 
 
 911291 
 
EMPRESS OCTAVIA 
 
 ? 
 
 i 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE gray stone seats of the Circus Maxi- 
 mus were already begii .ig to fill; the 
 gates were opened, throngs of people were 
 crowding through the corridors, pouring from 
 the doors of the boxes into the narrow passages 
 which divided the seats, rushing like a cata- 
 ract down the steps, or rising like the waves 
 of a stream which threatens to fill a valley. 
 Soon not a vestige of the marble in the build- 
 ing was visible, the vast interior was packed 
 with heads up to where the last pillars of the 
 outermost enclosure touched the blue sky. 
 
 Heads, nothing but heads, buzzing, roaring 
 heads, a sea, a mountain of heads, in whose 
 vast cm:le the white sand of the arena burned 
 in the sunlight. How peacefully lay that 
 white sand, soon to be dyed scarlet, how in- 
 tently those thousands of eyes gazed at it. 
 Now the dazzling sunbeams still glittered on 
 Its grains, but the Roman populace longed to 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 see it smoke with blood. Death was to stalk 
 over it like a Phainician dyer, when he crushes 
 purple snails upon a white woollen cloak till 
 the dark juices trickle down investing the 
 snowy vesture with a crimson splendor. Ban- 
 ners wave, bronze statues shine in the morning 
 light, the seats of the Senators await them, and 
 before the Emperor's golden chair a superb 
 hanging swells out like a sail into the arena. 
 Now the scene darkens ; high above the heads 
 of the spectators a cloud is rolling, depriving 
 the sun of the right to annoy the citizens of 
 Rome by its fervid heat ; a gigantic screen, 
 woven of variegated material, stretches from 
 one summit of the human mountain to the 
 other, waving, swelling, and concealing the 
 sky ; the multitude greet with enthusiastic 
 cheering the cool shade that is slowly extend- 
 ing over them. 
 
 The attentive ear often catches a dull roar, 
 or a hoarse, long-drav/n growl, which domi- 
 nates with its bestial sound the buzzing voices 
 of the throng. Expectant hearts thrill, and 
 one man nudges another, saying: "Do you 
 hear the lions raging behind the grating ? " 
 His neighbor, rubbing his hands gleefully, 
 replies : " How hungry the animals must 
 be!" 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 The last belated arrivals enter, and the slaves 
 arrange cushions for them on the reserved seats. 
 A youth, scarcely beyond boyhood, who has 
 been here since before sunrise, takes his break- 
 fast—consisting of a few peaches and some 
 bread — out of his pocket, and a poor weaver 
 tries to eat the sausage he has brought, while 
 people crowding past him almost knock the 
 mouthfuls from his lips. Men from the cook- 
 shops offer their steaming pasties for sale, and 
 the patrician dames in the front row of seats 
 below flutter their fans, laugh, and nod to one 
 another. Lovers seated close to each other 
 sometimes receive a jesting admonition to move 
 a little nearer, which calls forth a universal 
 peal of laughter; an unmannerly boy throws 
 fruit stones at girls sitting below him, and 
 is roughly called to order by the soldier on 
 guard with the handle of his lance. Now the 
 Senators' chairs gradually fill; the crowd is 
 growing more and more impatient. A mo- 
 ment's silence follows; helmeted warriors, on 
 whose weapons the sun flashes, appear in the 
 miperial box; soon he must enter, the Lord 
 of the World, the Emperor of Rome, Nero. 
 How intently the throng is watching; now the 
 heavy hangings stir, black hands draw them 
 aside; there is Spiculus beckoning to a stately 
 
 3 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 man in a flowing toga to take his place in the 
 front row of chairs, and that is Petronius, the 
 manager of the festivals, who is ofliciously 
 arranging the golden chair. And now, hailed 
 by the thundering cheers of the populace, the 
 man for whose pleasure Jupiter created the 
 world stands surveying the assembly. A 
 gracious smile hovers for a moment around 
 his beautiful but pallid lips, a feigned expres- 
 sion of affability flits over his flabby, effemi- 
 nate, almost womanly face, and Seneca, to 
 whom the Caesar has just whispered one of 
 his acute remarks, bends forward and instantly 
 repeats it to his companions, who of course 
 receive it with the most animated applause, 
 especially as Seneca himself pronounces it 
 uncommonly witty. 
 
 Now the Emperor approaches the front of 
 the box. The Senators rise, but he motions 
 to them to resume their seats. Still leaning 
 on the railing, the monarch scans the vast 
 amphitheatre, and some of the spectators 
 awaken great amusement, which he expresses 
 with mingled mirth and cynicism. 
 
 " Who is the big man up yonder in the 
 third gallery ? " he asks with a careless laugh ; 
 " it really is hardly seemly to exhibit such a 
 paunch in the Circus. I should like to see 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 W 
 
 the fellow run away fro, i a couple of leopards. 
 And the one over there with the long nose 
 which he is constantly sticking into people's 
 ears, must be a barber. Tell him not to for- 
 get to wear a mask during the day time in 
 future. How can one insult the air with such 
 a nose ! But I would like to see him in a 
 fight with the nets. And that lean fellow. 
 Tell him to pour lead into the soles of his 
 sandals, that the wind may not blow him away. 
 Aha ! And there sit my Senators, who, spite 
 of their purple-bordered pomp, are only the 
 puppets of the Caesar's will. What is to pre- 
 vent my showing them some day naked to the 
 people in the arena.? Look yonder at Piso, 
 he grows older and gloomier every day. And 
 there is the chaste .Emilia ; I should like to 
 have her, too, in the arena, or hide a young 
 buffoon in her chamber at night. But how 
 the beautiful Justina has adorned herself to- 
 day ; I should like to know where her husband 
 gets his money — " 
 
 So Nero talks on, without waiting for a 
 reply, drums with his fingers on the edge of 
 the box, gazes through a polished emerald at 
 the spectators, and at last lapses into a bored 
 silence. The Consul Piso whispers to his 
 neighbor : " He looks ill, Justinus." In fact, 
 
 S 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 the Caesar, as he takes his seat, whispers to his 
 freedman : " The sea-fish, my dear Aperinns, 
 hes very heavy on my stomach ; tell the cook 
 not to serve it to me again, or I '11 have him 
 put into his own pots." 
 
 The sovereign's angry expression changes to 
 one of assumed good-nature, as Spiculus arranges 
 the folds of the toga artistically, but it seems to 
 the attendant courtiers as though Nero was 
 struggling with sleep, for sometimes his broad 
 neck droops, sometimes his eyes close, then he 
 suddenly opens them again. Now he even re- 
 presses a yawn and asks why the games do 
 not begin. Petronius apologizes for the delay. 
 There is a very beautiful Christian maiden to be 
 given to the wild beasts : would the Caesar pre- 
 fer to have her death reserved until the last, or 
 should she enter the arena first .? I1ie F:mperor 
 drowsily replies with a word that Petronius 
 does not understand, and to which, in order 
 not to ask a second time, he replies : " Yes 
 my Lord ! " Burrus, stern Burrus, whispers 
 to his neighbor, "The Cssar is drunk again." 
 But the other pretends not to hear the 
 blasphemy, Petronius waves a white ker- 
 chief and the tuba sounds, giving the signal 
 for the commencement of the games. The 
 combats between the wrestlers which now take 
 
 6 
 
 P 
 
 ll! 
 
I 
 
 rs to his 
 perinvs, 
 he cook 
 ive him 
 
 mges to 
 irranges 
 eems to 
 ero was 
 s broad 
 then he 
 ven re- 
 tries do 
 i delay, 
 n to be 
 iar pre- 
 last, or 
 :nperor 
 tronius 
 
 order 
 " Yes, 
 hispers 
 igain." 
 ir the 
 2 ker- 
 signal 
 
 The 
 V take 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 place, bore the populace ; it wants stronger 
 fare, and while the men struggle, gasping and 
 panting, the occupants of the galleries talk 
 on without even looking at the bloodless 
 battle. 
 
 " Agrippina, Agrippina," now runs in a 
 whisper from seat to seat. " See how proudly 
 she moves." 
 
 Nero's mother enters her box. Tigellinus 
 ventures to approach the dozing ruler and in- 
 form him of her arrival. The Emperor's face 
 darkens, it is true, but swiftly controlling him- 
 self, he shakes off the last remnant of drowsi- 
 ness, salutes the Empress, nay, even sends a 
 slave to invite her to witness the games at his 
 side, and Agrippina then appears in her son's 
 box, where he embraces her before the whole 
 populace. Otho, with his beautiful wife, Pop- 
 paea Sabina, now appears in a row of seats at 
 the right of the Emperor's chair. Vatinius, 
 the Caesar's jester, succeeds in giving his mas- 
 ter a secret sign which the latter had evidently 
 arranged with the dwarf; for, as soon as he 
 receives it, Nero turns his head toward Otho's 
 box, a faint flush mounts into his face, and he 
 speaks with twofold graciousness to his mother. 
 Sabina, too, blushes and wiiispers to her hus- 
 band. It does not escape tlie notice of the 
 
 7 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 courtiers that, while conversing with his mother, 
 the monarch often glances, as if by accident, at 
 Sabina, and that the beautiful woman returns 
 the look. The couple seem to be noticed by 
 the audience also ; many inferences are drawn 
 from the eloquent language of Sabina's eyes, 
 many bold assertions are made. 
 
 " How is my illustrious son pleased with 
 his young wife?" Agrippina asks in the 
 course of the conversation, while the gladia- 
 tors below are vainly striving to attract at- 
 tention. All Rome knew that the relation 
 between the imperial pair was by no means 
 the most tender; Agrippina, who has also 
 noticed her son's restlessness since Sabina's 
 entrance, has intentionally put the question. 
 Nero bites his lips, ns he turns away, his 
 eye meets his mother's and it betrays that she 
 is again in a fault-finding mood. Agrippina 
 does not cease to praise Octavia's virtue. 
 Nero makes no reply, but gazes down into 
 the arena as if he did not hear the p^ans in 
 honor of his wife's fidelity. Finally, when 
 his mother unmistakably blames his indifl'er- 
 ence to the daughter of Claudius, the sove- 
 reign's face wears an expression of impatience ; 
 he interrupts Agrippina's words with the ex- 
 clamation : " She is too virtuous for me," and 
 
 8 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 i mother, 
 :ident, at 
 returns 
 )ticed by 
 -e drawn 
 I's eyes, 
 
 >ed with 
 in the 
 gladia- 
 :ract at- 
 relation 
 I means 
 as also 
 5abina's 
 uestion. 
 ^ay, his 
 hat she 
 ;rippina 
 virtue, 
 m into 
 2ans in 
 when 
 iidlfFer- 
 : sove- 
 tience ; 
 :he ex- 
 J," and 
 
 beckoning to his favorite Spiculus, whispers 
 an order into his ear. 
 
 Spiculus vanishes, but soon reappears in the 
 CcTsar's box and secretly thrusts a long strip 
 of papyrus into the folds of his toga. The 
 son scans his mother's features suspiciously to 
 discover whether her penetration has detected 
 the secret correspondence, and lets the strip of 
 papyrus slip lightly through his hands — but 
 not a word of writing is legible; the receiver 
 of the letter must wait until he returns home 
 and scatters charcoal upon the characters 
 written with milk.^ Not until then will they 
 become visible in black outlines. 
 
 " Sly Sabina," murmurs the delighted Caesar. 
 Meanwhile the crowd is murmuring, and 
 the complaisant director of festivals, to whom 
 its will is law, orders the gladiators to retire. 
 The iron grating at the extreme end of the 
 building rolls back, a huge form creeps from 
 the dark cage, a short growl is followed by a 
 deep roar that shakes the very air, and, directly 
 after, the lion's tail lashes the sand of the 
 arena. He, the terror of the caravans, was 
 dragged in huge carts through the provinces 
 of the Empire and now must extort the admir- 
 ation of the populace by his fury. The people 
 
 * Ovid: Ars Amandi. 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 receive in silence the king of the wilderness, 
 the monarch of the desolate ravines of the' 
 Atlas Mountains, who so short a time ago 
 watched for his prey on the rocky plateau and 
 sprang boldly through the air to the neck of 
 the giraffe, and now, with drooping head, slinks 
 along close to the wall, snarling discontentedly. 
 Then he lies down, raises his head with its 
 floating mane, yawns, and licks his bristling 
 lips with his red tongue ; the yawning chasm 
 of his jaws close, his eyes blink sleepily, he 
 crosses his fore-paws and looks like a statue. ■ 
 
 The walled ring gradually fills with animals 
 from the desert, the forests, the mountains, 
 the marshes ; the gratings rattle constantly, 
 the whips of the overseers crack ; the people 
 greet the savage guests with acclamations. 
 The lithe Indian tiger steals spitefully around 
 the auroch of Germany, the Northern bear 
 scans with his little red eyes the sullen boar, 
 the wolf licks his jaws hungrily with his hang- 
 ing tongue, the serpent rolls itself into a coil, 
 the Egyptian hyena, with its sinister green 
 eyes, steals from one hiding-place to another. 
 Timid gazelles tremble, ostriches fly, claws, 
 hoofs, manes, tails, move in a strange medley, 
 and, like an orchestra tuning its instruments 
 before the concert begins, the beasts gathered 
 
 lO 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 from all the quarters of the globe into the 
 arena growl, roar, howl, and grunt together. 
 
 The spectators fume, cheer them on, utter 
 angry curses; the animals, finding themselves 
 surrounded by a mountain of heads, grow 
 timid. Scarlet cloths are flung among the 
 beasts to irritate them, red-hot iron poles are 
 thrust through the gratings to stir the sluggish 
 ones. Suddenly the first applause breaks out 
 at the southern end of the circus. A bull 
 whose sharp horns came too near a lion, had 
 received a blow from his paw that laitl its right 
 hip open to the bone. 'I'he first blood is 
 greeted with cheers, and as if by magic, a uni- 
 versal struggle, all fighting against all, begins. 
 The sand whirls up in tall, white columns; the 
 bear rises on its hind legs, tearing the air with 
 its terrible paws; the lion crouches to spring; 
 snapping teeth strike in necks dripping with 
 blood ; horrible sounds of rage, sharp death- 
 rattles, hoarse bellowing delight the ears of 
 the multitude, which constantly grows more 
 frenzied. Heads bend forward, people point 
 to the confused medley of combatants, the 
 gaping wounds. 
 
 But the sovereign people is not yet satisfied 
 with the spectacle. These scenes still lack 
 their highest charm ; the horrors of death as 
 
 II 
 
Fmprcss Octavia 
 
 yet encompass onl) unreasoning brutes, — how 
 It must please the eye of man, endowed with 
 intellect, to see beings also possessing intelli- 
 gence shnnk in terror from these gaping jaws, 
 these uphfted paws! Are there no more' 
 cnm.nals? Why don't they seize some of 
 that Jewish sect, the Christians? What sidit 
 IS fairer than to see the bosom of a girl of six- 
 teen bleeding under the claws of a lion? 
 Pity, horror, and the charms of the senses 
 blend so bewitchingly in the breast of the spec- 
 tator, when she raises her beautiful arms im- 
 ploring aid. What a study for the sculptor 
 IS the innocent youth, when his slender limbs 
 struggle against the nug of the bear! How 
 every muscle stands forth, how touching is the 
 haggard gaze with which he looks his last it 
 life ! And the old man, how his quiet submis- 
 sion teaches the philosopher to despise death ' 
 What a pathetic sight is the infant with its 
 thumb in its mouth, laughing at the animals 
 Ignorant of the coming doom, and how its' 
 mother clasps it to her heart, hiding it ,. the 
 wolf's muzzle reaches !ier! Such a sncrfr^I' 
 makes the blood flow faster through the veins 
 and, for the first time, one realizes what it is 
 to be safe. 
 
 The shout: "Men, men!" rises every- 
 
 12 
 
) — how 
 ed with 
 ; intclli- 
 ig jaws, 
 3 niorc 
 :)me of 
 at siglit 
 
 of six- 
 i lion ? 
 
 senses 
 le sp -c- 
 ms ini- 
 CLilptor 
 ' limbs 
 
 How 
 I is the 
 last at 
 Lib mis- 
 death ! 
 ith its 
 linials, 
 ow its 
 lib the 
 ?rti :!-' 
 veins, 
 t it is 
 
 ivery. 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 where ; the spectators wish to see human 
 beings struggle with the beasts. The directors 
 of the y;iines are ready to gratify this desire 
 too. 
 
 At the extreme end of the circus is an out- 
 building where the persons destined for the 
 combats await their turn. It is a vaulted 
 structure, through whose grated windows day- 
 light scarcely ventures to penetrate. The damp 
 stones are overgrown with green mould, against 
 which the wan faces of the condemned men 
 stand forth in strong relief; around them, 
 armed with lances, are soldiers on guard, gaz- 
 ing pitilessly at the scenes of misery before 
 them. But it is not seemly for Christians to 
 wail aloud. They sit quietly side by side on 
 the stone benches, or clasp one another's 
 hands. Mothers exhort their children, old 
 men their sons ; they speak tender words of 
 comfort, words uttered by the Saviour as He 
 hung upon the cross, and many an eye sparkles 
 with a radiant light. The iron-bound door 
 opens ; the roaring of the beasts, the frantic 
 shouts of the multitude grow louder, like dis- 
 tant thunder or the howling of the storm. 
 The captain of the guard chooses the first 
 couple who must enter the arena,— two youths, 
 leaning shoulder against shoulder as they sit 
 
 13 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 together. The younger, scarcely beyond boy- 
 hood, gazes with pallid face at the floor- the 
 older, of stronger build, embraces his timid 
 companion with his bare arm. The bov 
 shuddering, leans his head upon the other's 
 breast, clasps his hand convulsively, and raises 
 his arge, mournful eyes to his. A submissive 
 smile, a sorrowful quiver of the under lip are 
 the sole response of the older youth. What 
 can he say ? What comfort can he ofi^er his 
 young comrade ? The captain shouts : « Why 
 do you delay ? " and they approach the door. 
 There the boy's strength fails, he hides his 
 beautiful face, and the older, overpowered by 
 grief, supports the tottering form. A soldier 
 attempts to force the sinking lad to stand. 
 
 " What am I to think of you, my Drusus " 
 murmurs the older youth, thrusting back the 
 soldier, whose rough hand violently shakes the 
 a most senseless form. Now the boy, trem- 
 bling, clasps his friend's neck, and the latter 
 bears him out, his face, distorted with suffer- 
 ing, and eyes dimmed by tears, turned toward 
 the distant arena. 
 
 _ The iron-bound door closes, and the roar- 
 ing of the conflict reaches the hapless beings 
 within less distinctly through its heavy boards. 
 In the darkest corner of the room stand two 
 
 14 
 
ond boy- 
 loor; the 
 his timid 
 "he boy, 
 e other's 
 nd raises 
 ibmissive 
 r hp, are 
 . What 
 offer his 
 : " Why 
 he door. 
 lides his 
 ered by 
 ^ soldier 
 nd. 
 
 )rusiis," 
 'ack the 
 ikes the 
 , trem- 
 e latter 
 suffer- 
 toward 
 
 e roar- 
 beings 
 boards, 
 id two 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 old men convicted of being Christians. They 
 had been friends from boyhood and at nineteen 
 shared the expedition to Germany. In those 
 days their motto was to live, to enjoy, and 
 they did enjoy until the strange tidings of the 
 Man on the Cross reached them ; they loved 
 and drank, and now they were talking about 
 the immortality of the soul, and their eyes 
 sparkled more joyfully than when they dashed 
 together into battle with the Germans. Slaves, 
 too, are crouching on the ground. Whom' 
 could the example of the gentle Conqueror of 
 the World inspire more, what bondman's heart 
 did not throb faster when he heard the mes- 
 sage of the brotherhood of man and the 
 liberty which death bestows? The eyes of the 
 slaves yearn for this freedom, the blow of 
 the lion's paw is welcome to them. 
 
 But the most touching group among those 
 condemned is one standing locked in a close 
 embrace near the door. Even the sullen- 
 browed soldier, the Jew Rufus, leaning against 
 It vvith the spear in his sinewy hand, would 
 fain turn from this scene; yet his deep-set eyes 
 cannot wander from the girl kneeling on the 
 damp stones to take leave of three little 
 brothers who are too young to understand the 
 meaning of what is passing around them. 
 
 15 
 
I 
 
 Emp 
 
 Hi 
 
 ress Octavia 
 
 _aze IS constantly attracted by the slender 
 white figure, whose movements are so swift, 
 so bewildered, and whose mortal terror is 
 visible only in the large eyes, whose dilated 
 pupils seem lost in vague, unknown distances. 
 She turns from one brother to another; she 
 cannot give enough proofs of love, encourage- 
 ment, admonitions, farewell kisses, but her 
 caresses are not returned ; a paralyzing stupor 
 rests upon the aged parents, the man with the 
 long white beard, the woman with the wrinkled 
 face. 
 
 " Father, tell sister she must stay with us," 
 sobs the youngest child, pressing his wooden 
 horse to his eyes. " Let us go home, 1 'm so 
 hungry." 
 
 The father and mother look down at the 
 children silently ; they must lose their darling 
 Lucretia who, without their knowledge, has 
 professed Christianity. Secretly the thin, 
 hollow-eyed youth beside her, who is pressing 
 the crucifix to his brow, initiated their daughter 
 into the mysteries of the new superstition. 
 Yesterday the soldiers captured both as they 
 were kneeling in the catacombs before the 
 crucifix, and to-day they must atone for their 
 boldness in having scorned Jupiter and clung 
 to a fanatic. 
 
 i6 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 "And you, my Regulus," Lucretia whis- 
 pers with rigid, motionless features, clasping 
 her youngest brother's hand, "you will be 
 good, won't you ? You will obey our parents 
 when I am no longer here, as you have obeyed 
 me, and love them as you have loved me. 
 And don't break the toy I gave you, and 
 think of me very often, though I can no 
 longer pray with you in the evening, nor put 
 you to bed. Do you hear .? Remember that 
 I shall be very happy, and that you must be 
 good, so that some day you can come where I 
 shall live forever." 
 
 But the boy hides his face in his mother's 
 dress, his sister's eyes look so strange to-day 
 as she talks in such hasty, excited tones. 
 
 "My Brutus," Lucretia turns to the other 
 boy, pushmg the black curls from his brow 
 with her hand, " you will understand me ; your 
 heart beats strongly and bravely, though you 
 are so young ; and 1 know you will do great 
 deeds some day. God has given you much, 
 my child; honor Him in using your talents."' 
 " Where are you going, Lucretia.?" he asks. 
 " I will go with you. They shall not let you 
 face the wild beasts alone." 
 
 But the sister has already turned to the 
 third brother, who, almost as soon as she 
 
 i7 
 
i 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 speaks to him, bursts into tears without 
 knowing why. 
 
 " He must leave me ; he will rob my soul 
 of all its strength with his tears," she says to 
 herself, then, looking reproachfully at him, 
 rises. Does she feel compassion as she sees 
 her grief-stricken parents wringing their hands? 
 Her gaze expresses bewilderment. The door 
 has opened again ; the command rings out ; a 
 number of victims leave the room at the 
 same time to enter the arena ; Lucretia notices 
 it and averts her face from the departing fig- 
 ures. Has she fought the last battle? Has 
 her heart, has her mind, been so torn by con- 
 flicting emotions that claws and teeth can no 
 longer harm the flesh ? Does Faith really 
 possess the power to destroy human nature in 
 human beings ? As the despairing shrieks of 
 the lacerated victims penetrate the cell, she lays 
 her beautiful hand on her father's arm ; does 
 she need comfort ? She would fain console 
 him, but a deadly pallor overspreads her 
 features. The groans of anguish send a shud- 
 der through her frame, and she murmurs: 
 " Everything, everything, great God, only let 
 me not hear." 
 
 She covers her ears with her hands. Her 
 mother, with a hollow groan, sinks upon the 
 
 i8 
 
 11 
 
 I ! 
 
without 
 
 ' my soul 
 le says to 
 at him, 
 she sees 
 Mr hands? 
 rhe door 
 p out ; a 
 n at the 
 ia notices 
 irting fig- 
 e? Has 
 n by con- 
 h can no 
 th really 
 nature in 
 li ricks of 
 , she lays 
 'm ; does 
 I console 
 -'ads her 
 i a shud- 
 lurmurs : 
 only let 
 
 Is. I ler 
 14 pun the 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 stone bench ; no one can go to aid the faint- 
 ing woman. The door opens once more ; again 
 the shout of command and the clank of 
 weapons are heard; more victims are wanted. 
 1 he thin, fanatical youth, with scarlet spots 
 on his hollow cheeks, approaches the maiden 
 and silently holds before her bowed head the 
 crucifix, sure of its sustaining power. What 
 is his amazement as she stares fixedly at the 
 Crucified One and shakes her head ! 
 
 " Where is your faith, Lucretia .? " he says 
 hoarsely, frowning. « Will you do your teacher 
 so httle honor, has your zeal to fathom the 
 divine life proved so small, and where has 
 your trust in the help of Christ fled ? " 
 
 Lucretia is about to clasp the cross, but now 
 frightful sounds, such as no human ear has ever 
 heard, echo from the arena, blended with bes- 
 tml yelping and howling laughter; it seems as 
 It mortal agony was striving to find tones to 
 touch the heart of savage curiosity. Of what 
 scenes these sounds speak, what blood-stained 
 visions they hold before the eyes ! How thev 
 describe the fearful torture of mangled bodies 
 dragged by gnashing jaws over the smoking 
 
 Lucretia draws her hand away from the 
 Redeemers image; the Man on the Cross 
 
 19 
 
I i 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 has forsaken her; even His example no longer 
 raises her courage. What would she give if, 
 instead of the untenable consolations the finati- 
 cal believer is whispering in her ear, instead of 
 the invisible presence of Christ, a visible sav- 
 ing hand would rescue her from this prison ! 
 Her gaze wanders helplessly from her mother 
 to her father, and from him to her own body, 
 now beautiful in its symmetry, whose charms 
 must serve as food for the wild beasts of the 
 wilderness. Then her glance falls on the Jew, 
 Rufus, who still leins against the door, his 
 head bowed, his lipi^ compressed, staring at 
 the young girl. Her livid mouth is distorted, 
 the reddened lids of her eyes open widely, 
 and her expressionless gaze is almost like that 
 of an animal, but she does not utter a word. 
 Yet she is still beautiful in her anguish. The 
 Jew sees how she struggles to control herself, how 
 she strives to hold the fear of death at bay, and, 
 to numb it, clasps her brother to her bosom. 
 
 " Help me, my '3rutus ; comfort me, my 
 child ! " she murmurs. " Oh, to what can my 
 soul cling in this hour of need! My parents, 
 have you no consolation for your child ? 
 Father, you who gave me life, kill me with 
 your strong hand — to be torn by snarling 
 beasts before this throng of people — Hark ! 
 
 20 
 
no longer 
 e give if, 
 :he fiinati- 
 nstead of 
 sible sav- 
 s prison ! 
 ;r mother 
 wn body, 
 e charms 
 ;ts of the 
 
 the Jew, 
 door, his 
 taring at 
 distorted, 
 n widely, 
 
 like that 
 ■ a word. 
 ;h. The 
 rself, how 
 bay, and, 
 bosom. 
 
 me, my 
 t can my 
 • parents, 
 r child? 
 me with 
 
 snarling 
 Hark! 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 M 
 
 hark! How they groan ! If only dying does not 
 hurt much ! but, oh, fatlier, 1 fear it docs." 
 
 And cowering on the floor, not knowing 
 what she is doing, she drags herself to the Jew's 
 feet, clasps his bare knees, and falters wildly : 
 " K you are a man, thrust your spear into mv 
 breast." ^ 
 
 Rufus turns pale, sighs, and lowers the spear 
 as if he intended to fulfil her entreaty. Then 
 he shrugs his shoulders and gazes with fierce 
 indifl^erence in another direction, as if he did 
 not feel a tremor as the hapless girl's head 
 rested against his knees. Lucretia, with throb- 
 bing temples, remains in this attitude for a 
 time, as if half unconscic is ; but Lucius, the 
 fanatical convert, approaches, and lifts her from 
 the floor. He is trembling as he embraces 
 and kisses her. 
 
 "Lucretia, the hour of death looses my 
 tongue," he whispers as if enraptured. " Listen 
 to me : I have kept silence until now ; but I 
 have loved you, Lucretia, sine. 1 first saw you, 
 since I taught you to pray to the Christian's 
 God. The arena shall be our nuptial chamber ; 
 what do I care for death, since it gives you to' 
 
 He clasps her to his breast ; she does not 
 heed It; she has scarcely understood his words ; 
 
 21 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 he continues to stammer mingled prayers and 
 vows of love, which she hears with an indiffer- 
 ent, meaningless nod of assent. At last she 
 seems to realize the significance of his ardent 
 kisses, and pushes her curls over her cneek. 
 
 " I do not love you, Lucius — may the Lord 
 be merciful to me — I do not love you — but 
 give me your hand — there — let me clasp it 
 firmly — you must forgive me for saying this 
 to you, but 1 am so weak I scarcely know 
 what I am doing — my parents abandon me — 
 at least be my friend, Lucius." 
 
 The tuba interrupts this strange love-talk ; 
 the door opens ; the shout of command rings 
 out ; the captain chooses a group of victims, 
 among whom are Lucius and Lucretia. Rufus's 
 lips part as if to utter some exclamation ; he 
 grasps his spear more closely, then shrugs his 
 shoulders as if he were saying to himself: 
 " What is the girl to me .? I can't help her." 
 The old father sinks down on the stone 
 bench, weeping and muttering to himself in 
 childish grief; the mother rises, rushes noise- 
 lessly to her daughter, and clutches her dress 
 convulsively, while her chin moves as if she 
 were talking in her sleep. But now that the 
 die is cast and death opens his iron arms before 
 Lucretia, courage returns, at least the nervous 
 
 22 
 
yers and 
 
 indiffer- 
 
 last she 
 
 is ardent 
 
 neek. 
 
 he Lord 
 
 u — but 
 
 clasp it 
 
 ing this 
 
 y know 
 
 n me — 
 
 ve-talk ; 
 id rings 
 victims, 
 Rufus's 
 ion ; he 
 •ugs his 
 limself: 
 Ip her." 
 e stone 
 nself in 
 s noise- 
 :r dress 
 if she 
 hat the 
 s before 
 lervous 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 feminine courage, the reckless defiance of death, 
 the feverish hardihood of despair. She beholds' 
 the world steeped in crimson light; she could 
 laugh aloud, her heart throbs so high with 
 joyous terror; the whole world whirls around 
 her, shining strangely ; she moves toward the 
 entrance as if borne onward by burning clouds. 
 A soldier has attempted to remove the old 
 woman's hand from her daughter's dress, but 
 he finds it impossible, and is obliged to hack 
 the garment away with his sword. 
 
 The roar of the surging sea of the populace 
 already deadens every other sound, and now 
 heartrending shrieks pierce the air. Again 
 Lucretia turns back; she sees her mother pre- 
 vented by force from following her, sees the 
 poor woman struggle, then clasping Lucius's 
 hand closely, whispers : " When I fall, Lucius, 
 arrange my stola, I beg you, that I may not lie 
 with garments disarranged before the throng." 
 She adjusts her dress, hiding her bosom with 
 her long hair, in half-unconscious modesty. 
 They approach nearer and nearer to the place 
 whence the deafening noise proceeds. Lucius, 
 raising the crucifix toward heaven, begins to 
 sing a hymn which dies away in the uproar. 
 Clasping the girl with his right arm, his eyes, 
 almost starting from their sockets, survey the 
 
 23 
 
! I 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 vast arena as if defying the vvild beasts; mortal 
 terror, enthusiasm, contempt of the world, are 
 all depicted upon his haggard features. The 
 grating before the entrance rises ; some resisting 
 victims are thrust forward with red-hot iron 
 poles. 
 
 Now the young pair stand in the arena ; the 
 grating closes creaking behind them. The girl 
 rests her beautiful arm against the stone blocks 
 of the encircling wall; the dense clouds of 
 dust, through which are seen, as if in a mist, the 
 mountain of heads, the hairy bodies of the wild 
 beasts, the mangled human limbs, nil appear to 
 Lucretia like a shapeless vision of the imagina- 
 tion at which she gazes in wonder. 
 
 The thundering roar seems to lull her senses, 
 the cries of fury, the sharp, shrill, hungry howls 
 of the animals appear like flashes of light- 
 ning; the blood-soaked sand, into which she 
 sinks to the ankles, seems painted • flames 
 dart around her; everything shimmers, quivers. 
 So she stands waiting, with her beautiful arm 
 braced against the thick pitiless wall; often 
 the face of a girl friend rises before her, an 
 afi^ectionate word, a beautiful scene from the 
 days of her childhood, — all swift, fleeting, van- 
 ishing. Then she feels as if consciousness 
 were receding farther and farther, shrivelling 
 
 24 
 
 »i 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 more and more; she sees dimly, as if through 
 a light, swaying crimson veil, a monstrous 
 brown form with huge paws tower in gigantic 
 outlines before her, l.eh(;lds Lucius throw him- 
 self upon it and his head vanish i yawning 
 jaws. Then, drenched with some wiirm fluid, 
 she sinks beside the wall ; something quiver- 
 ing convulsively rests upon her body. 
 
 »S 
 
: ■ rf! 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 MEANWHILE Rufus, who had been 
 on guard before sunrise, was relieved. 
 Instead of watching the spectacle, he left the 
 Circus and, absorbed in thought, walked around 
 the building, passing the booths of the shop- 
 keepers under the arcades of the amphitheatre 
 without noticing their wares; even the smile 
 of the Assyrian dancing-girl, whose alluring 
 gestures invited the attention of strolling idlers, 
 could not efface from his imagination the 
 image of the Christian maiden led forth to 
 death. He feJt a dull, vague compassion 
 when he thought of Lucretia's head as the 
 trembling girl pressed it against his knees, — a 
 compassion which angered him, because he 
 knew that whoever wished to attain a good 
 position in Rome must contemptuously thrust 
 pity aside as weakness, and to attain a good 
 position had been the ambitious Jew's aspira- 
 tion from his early youth. Hitherto he had 
 not made much progress, — he was a private 
 soldier in the fifth maniple of the Praetorians ; 
 
 26 
 
Fm press Octavia 
 
 but who, at twenty-four, loses the hope of being 
 at least a centurion in the imperial guard when 
 he reaches the age of fifty ? 
 
 Rufus now tried to interest himself in the 
 dancing of a Phaniician, whose nude limbs 
 were relieved in artistic beauty against the dark 
 archway, but the fiir one's smile only called 
 before his imagination, in still more vivid 
 colors, the death-agony of the Christian 
 maiden whose limbs were now perhaps quiv- 
 ering on the saiid of the arena; and he could 
 no longer watch the dancer's movements, which 
 reminded him hideously of the last convul- 
 sions of a dying form. 
 
 As a Jew, his nature was more sensitive; 
 and being averse to the brutal deeds of these 
 Pagans, his sole consolation was that the girl's 
 sufferings were over. To him a human life 
 was of more value than to these Romans, and, 
 though recklessly ambitious, he felt a certain 
 respect for every human being thai Jehovah had 
 created. Yet, after all, what was this girl to him ? 
 Shrugging his shoulders, as was his habit, he 
 muttered to himself: " What do you mean, 
 Rufus ? She is dead I Have you the power 
 to call her back to life ? Nonsense ! I forbid 
 you to think any more about her." 
 
 Then he really felt relieved ; military disci- 
 
 27 
 
1^ 
 
 i 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 piine had so pervaded his nature, he was so 
 thoroughly convinced of its necessity, that he 
 treated himself with the strictness with which 
 his superior officer, whom he always implicidy 
 obeyed, would have treated him. 
 
 As, clinching his black beard between his 
 lips, he hurriedly turned around a pillar, he 
 ran against one of the street astrologers, who 
 usually enjoyed excellent patronage in this 
 place. The man, an Assyrian, was crouching 
 on the ground, completely enveloped in a long 
 robe, which was intended to lend the necessary 
 dignity to his lofty calling. His knees almost 
 touched his chin ; he clasped his pointed beard 
 thoughtfully in his hand; his brow, with its 
 bushy eyebrows, was bent over a tablet 
 covered with all sorts of strange characters ; 
 while several bystanders were listening pa- 
 tiently to hear what the august man would 
 read from the stars concerning their future. 
 After some time he raised his head and beck- 
 oned to a muffled woman, into whose ear, as 
 she bent near him, he whispered the result of 
 his investigation She gave him money and 
 hurried ofFwith a light step, the news she had 
 received of the future of her lover in Egypt 
 had doubtless been pleasant. Another person 
 to whom the result of the calculation was com- 
 
 28 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 municated left the astrologer with less satisfac- 
 tion. The heritage expected by the smooth- 
 faced young dandy would never come to him 
 — if the learned man's opinion was correct. 
 
 Now the astrologer sat alone in the shade of 
 the pillar. The burning noontide sun was blaz- 
 ing outside; the smooth leaves of the distant 
 laurel-trees glittered as if set with tiny mirrors 
 or gems, whenever a sunbeam touched their 
 green enamel ; high above, towered the stone 
 blocks of the Circus wall, partly covered with 
 clinging ivy. Opposite to the Circus rose the 
 Aventme, whose white temples gleamed in 
 dazzling radiance against the deep blue sky. 
 Not a human being was visible at the moment. 
 Rufus pondered whether he should try his 
 fortune too. True, his religion forbade him 
 to meddle with magic, and he valued it no 
 more than a dream, yet he could scarcely resist 
 the impulse of his gnawing ambition. For 
 what was he destined .? He would but ask 
 jestingly ; Jehovah could not be wrathful with 
 him for playing a prank with the Pagans. Yet 
 his heart throbbed violently as, glancing timidly 
 around him, he approached the crouching figure. 
 The Assyrian started up, trying to assume a 
 majestic air, as the excited soldier's footsteps 
 cast gravel on his tablets. 
 
 29 
 
i^ p 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 " So you can unveil the future," exclaimed 
 the Jew, while an incredulous smile hovered 
 around his bearded lips. 
 
 The Magian, with a majestic gesture, an- 
 swered: "Thou hast said." 
 
 " And how do you do it ? " asked Rufus. 
 " How do I do it ? " The Magian did not 
 exactly trust the stranger, and scanned him 
 from head to foot, while reflecting whether he 
 was dealing with a scorner or a respecter of his 
 art. The examination finally convinced him 
 that he need not conceal his wisdom in the 
 presence of a comparatively untutored soldier. 
 "Yes. How do you do it?" Rufus re- 
 peated, leaning his spear against the pillar, 
 raising his helmet, and passing his hand over 
 his hair, dank with perspiration. 
 
 " Do you suppose that this secret can be ex- 
 plained to you in a few seconds ? " replied the 
 other, almost insulted. " Young man, go with 
 me to Egypt, visit the temples, become initiated 
 into the mysteries of the priests of Isis, hold in- 
 tercourse, as 1 have done, with Thrassylus, the 
 astrologer of Tiber, and Barbyllus, the astrolo- 
 ger of Nero, study medicine, mechanics, math- 
 ematics, astronomy, and live to be seventy 
 years old; then perhaps you may have a 
 vague idea of the wisdom 1 call mine." 
 
 30 
 
 i 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 The Assyrian again became absorbed in his 
 figures, as if he did not desire to be accosted 
 or questioned, muttered all sorts of Egyptian 
 •vords, and drew strange circles with his stones, 
 while Rufus began to feel some degree of respect 
 for the knowledge of this observer of the stars. 
 
 " Have you studied all these things ? " he 
 asked in astonishment. 
 
 The learned man smiled contemptuously. 
 
 "And much more," he said, passing *his 
 hand across his brow with a bombastic gesture, 
 which intimated that nothing was concealed 
 from him. 
 
 " And your art," stamm-red Rufus, — " does 
 it always tell the truth ? " 
 
 "Truth.?" replied the Magian, in a melan- 
 choly tone, and then suddenly added, stretching 
 out his arm as if in ecstasy : " What /.; truth ? " 
 
 After hurling this phrase, he remained several 
 moments m his attitude of profound thought, 
 but meanwhile secretly watching with a side 
 glance what effect his acting was producing 
 upon the young man. Rufus took his spear, 
 leaned on it, and gazed intently at the ground.' 
 
 "Yes," he murmured, looking watchfully 
 about him, "it is strange! God must know 
 what awaits us ; why should not a sharp-sighted 
 intellect endeavor to fathom His thoughts .? If 
 
 31 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 we could search into the councils of the gods 
 — of God, I meant to say — " 
 
 " We can," interrupted the sage, impetuously. 
 
 "Yes, if one were God Himself, or, as that 
 other called himself, the Son of God," added 
 Rufus. 
 
 "That is wholly unnecessary," said the 
 Magian, eagerly. " We need not be God ; the 
 gods are Hke little children in school, — that is, 
 bad accountants. Yes, my son, everything in 
 the world had its destiny fixed from the be- 
 ginning, before the gods existed. Whoever 
 can calculate how the elements were arranged 
 when love brooded over them, can estimate 
 how they are arranged now, can predict the fall 
 of every grain of sand, the approach of every 
 comet. The gods are but the servants of P'ate, 
 its torch-bearers : the gods know nothing, for 
 they have no mathematics ; but Prometheus is 
 the great inventor of the science of numbers. 
 Mathematics, young man, is the key of mys- 
 teries. Like a good hunting-dog, figures track 
 the revolutions and courses of the stars, pierce 
 the elements, and divide them into other ele- 
 ments, build temples, arrange the hewn stones 
 like a sturdy Cyclops, and it is figures also 
 which disclose the future of human beings, 
 as a child's hand opens the closed bud." 
 
 32 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 Rufus was surprised ; these words awed him. 
 He felt a dread of calculations, and asked 
 humbly if the sage would not reveal his future. 
 "Willingly," said the latter, clearing his 
 throat, " but — it is again figures, according to 
 which we value small as well as large coins." 
 
 Rufus understood. Horror of the mysteri- 
 ous figures disappeared, or rather it increased 
 when the sage now named the sum after whose 
 payment he was ready to announce the decree 
 of fate. 
 
 " Five denarii ? " asked the Jew, — " my pay 
 for a fortnight ! That 's too much. How am 
 I to live ? " 
 
 The sage pretended not to hear this ejacu- 
 lation, which evidently proceeded from the 
 depths of the heart, but played with his stones 
 and smoothed his Assyrian beard. 
 
 " How am I to live ? " the soldier muttered 
 again. 
 
 " And how am / to live ? " answered the sage, 
 coldly. " What is life ? Unless you can be 
 content with a sip of water from the hollow of 
 your hand and a bit of mouldy bread, you are 
 not worthy of the sun. Five denarii, young 
 man, that is the will of Isis, the universal 
 mother." 
 
 True, Rufus did not understand what the 
 3 33 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 universal mother had to do with his five de- 
 narii, yet, sighing heavily, he resolved to pay 
 them, and the Magian began his calculations. 
 
 " Will you not give me a short account of 
 your flimily circumstances ? " asked the mathe- 
 matician after a brief silence. " I can investi- 
 gate the course of your life better if I know its 
 beginning." 
 
 " My father was a physician," said Rufus, 
 frowning, and evidently dissatisfied. 
 
 " What is your mother's name ? " asked the 
 other. 
 
 " Esther. My father died, leaving us in 
 
 poverty." 
 
 " Where do you live ? " 
 
 "In one of the streets in the Tiber district, 
 near the Covered Way." 
 
 " Have you any brothers or sisters ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " How old are you ? " 
 
 " Twenty-fouu." 
 
 " What is your favorite occupation ? " 
 
 " Ask me no more questions," answered 
 Rufus, sullenly ; " it is enough for you to know 
 that I — " he paused in the midst of a remark 
 concerning his ambitious aspirations, and added, 
 " that I don't like to be catechised." 
 
 "Very well," murmured the mathematician, 
 
 34 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 and continued his calculations. The warrior 
 intently watched the stones as they formed 
 figures, shaking his head as he gazed at the 
 curves which the soothsayer, with an air of the 
 deepest thought, drew upon the tablet. Sev- 
 eral passers-by lingered, to the Jew's great an- 
 noyance. One, a young stranger, asked what 
 was going on here. Rufus made no reply; 
 he sincerely regretted having asked counsel of 
 the soothsayer, whose whole manner was grad- 
 ually awakening his distrust. Yet he awaited 
 the answer with some little curiosity, and then 
 asked the stranger what he wanted. The latter 
 walked on laughing, saying that the sights in 
 Rome were wonderful ; except the rude soldiers, 
 everything was quite different from the prov- 
 inces. At last the work was finished. The 
 old man raised his head, but Rufus motioned 
 to him to be silent until the idlers had moved 
 on. Then he made him a sign. 
 
 " Beware of woman ! " said the sage, sol- 
 emnly, " thus speaks the voice of Fate." 
 
 " Explain that," replied Rufus. 
 
 " Explain ? What is there to explain ? " said 
 the Assyrian. 
 
 " I don't understand," answered the sol- 
 dier. 
 
 " Can you expect me ,^o understand the 
 
 35 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 decrees of the gods ? " said the sage. *' Please 
 give me my fee." 
 
 " But you just called the gods bad account- 
 ants," Rufus was beginning to expostulate, 
 when the august astrologer interrupted with 
 the exclamation: " Beware of woman ! " and in 
 the same breath added : " Will you pay me ? " 
 
 The soldier drew out his purse and threw a 
 denarius on the table, patting the sage on the 
 back as he said : " You know how to calculate, 
 my friend, and will be able to make yourself 
 believe that this is five denarii as easily as you 
 led me to think you could unveil the future." 
 
 The scholar, however, understood no jesting, 
 and was by no means so estranged from all 
 worldly things that he was willing to relinquish 
 four denari". Grasping the soldier's cloak, he 
 vehemently demanded the remainder of his 
 fee. But a sinister glance from the Jew's eyes 
 rested upon him. 
 
 " You predicted," said the latter under his 
 breath, " that misfortune would come to me 
 through woman, my friend ; with your leave, I 
 believe the prophecy is false. 1 will now 
 make a far more reliable one in the words : 
 Let me go, or there will be a shower of blows." 
 
 The Magian did not seem to feel any spe- 
 cial liking for this novice in the art of prophecy ; 
 
 36 
 
** Please 
 
 account- 
 lostulate, 
 ted with 
 " and in 
 
 IV nie 
 
 ? 
 
 . threw a 
 ;e on the 
 ;alculate, 
 yourself 
 y as you 
 ■uture." 
 ) jesting, 
 from all 
 dinquish 
 :loak, he 
 r of his 
 ;w's eyes 
 
 nder his 
 i to me 
 leave, I 
 vill now 
 i words : 
 ' blows." 
 any spe- 
 •ophecy ; 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 he dropped his cloak and, muttering angrily, 
 thrust the denarius into his pocket. 
 
 The jew left the soothsayer, and, greatly 
 dissatisfied with himself, strode oft] passing 
 the shops near the Circus without taking 
 the slightest notice of the various invitations 
 shouted by tavern-keepers, cooks, and pretty 
 dancing-girls. "A base generation," he 
 thought, scanning the various scenes, " a base 
 generation, dreaming life away over these boiK 
 ing sausages and steaming dishes of lentils." 
 Rufus had imposed upon himself, as his supreme 
 law of life, contempt for sensual pleasures; 
 only by ruling his passions could he expect to 
 reach his lofty goals. True, it was sometimes 
 very difficult for him to refrain from re- 
 sponding to an ardent glance, but even when 
 he yielded he always ruled passion with a cold 
 curb of reason, which enabled him to cast 
 pleasure aside as soon as he perceived that it 
 might become an obstacle in the path of his 
 ambition. He had secretly drained many a 
 goblet of wine, but always remained sober; he 
 had cradled many a Syrian beauty on his knees, 
 and laughed at her the next day when she pro- 
 tested that she could not li\'e without him. 
 Meanwhile he secretly enjoyed seeing his com- 
 rades swimming in the pool of pleasure till they 
 
 37 
 
I I 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 were stupefied and robbed of their senses ; nay, 
 like some destructive power of nature, he even 
 led more than one youth into drinking, gaming, 
 and libertinism, by which, in a certain degree, 
 he made them subject co him. 
 
 Rufus had reached the extreme end of the 
 Circus and was admiring a magnificent lit- 
 ter which had just been carried past him, 
 ardently wishing at the same time that he 
 might some day be surrounded with the same 
 splendor, when he saw a bald-headed, corpu- 
 lent old man stagger out of one of the Circus 
 taverns, leading by the hand a boy who was 
 evidently trying to support the reeling figure. 
 Dragged to and fro by the unsteady hand of 
 the gray-haired servant of Bucchus, the poor 
 child was sometimes thrown into very strange 
 positions, nay, was often literally dragged along. 
 
 " Why, father, what ails you to-day ? " 
 asked the innocent little fellow. " Take care ! 
 People are looking at us." 
 
 But the old man, with a foolish smile on 
 his red face, framed by a white beard well 
 suited to inspire reverence, vainly tried to 
 force his legs into their usual gait. He stum- 
 bled and skipped, sometimes smacking his 
 longue as if he still tasted the Falernian. 
 Sometimes he rubbed his hairy thigh, and at 
 
 3^ 
 
les ; nay, 
 
 he even 
 
 gaming, 
 
 degree, 
 
 i of the 
 :ent lit- 
 .st him, 
 that he 
 lie same 
 , corpu- 
 ; Circus 
 vho was 
 r figure, 
 land of 
 he poor 
 strange 
 d along. 
 )-day ? " 
 :e care ! 
 
 mile on 
 ird well 
 ried to 
 e stum- 
 ing his 
 dernian. 
 , and at 
 
 Empress Octav'a 
 
 last even leaned against the wall for a purpose 
 which it is not well to describe more closely, 
 — in doing which he ilropjied hoth cloak and 
 sandals; — and rubbed his shouKier persistently 
 agamst a projecting stone. 
 
 Rufus laughed ; but a bystander called out 
 that he must not ridicule him, it was a very 
 serious matter. When the old Silenus moved 
 slowly on, Rufus, to his surprise, recognized 
 the father of the Christian girl who had just 
 lost her life. As he staggered past the soldier, 
 he was talking volubly ; and though the words 
 were greatly mangled as they fell from his 
 flabby lips, they afforded a glimpse of the 
 overwhelming sorrow of the father's heart. 
 
 " My friend," he stammered, with his 
 glassy eyes turned heavenward, " the gods 
 are great, my friend, and man is little. Who- 
 ever denies it, by Zeus, is a drunkard ! Have 
 you thought of this ? We must submit, my 
 friend, submit. Fate is calm, very calm, and 
 sometimes even cruel, — (Edipus learned that; 
 but I would rather lead my own wife astray and 
 marry my father than to deal with the Sphinx. 
 But man has a comfort for his sorrows, my 
 friend ; behold it In me, for my heart Is merry, 
 very merry — " Then he began to sing a lit- 
 tle Egyptian song, but never got beyond the 
 
 39 
 

 Empress Octavia 
 
 first verse, which he repeated constantly, then 
 with drooping head ri'hipsed into silence, which 
 he suddenly interrupted with the angry ques- 
 tion whether anybody supposed that he was 
 drunk? Then, when Rufus advised him to 
 go home, he began to weep until the tear- 
 drops trickled down upon his beard. " Don't 
 say that; don't say that," he sobbed. " It's 
 no use for me to go home : I shall not find 
 my child. Do you see the big house yonder? 
 They shut my child up there, and she was 
 such a good daughter; she always said : 
 * Father, take care not to drink more Falernian 
 than is good for you,' and I obeyed her. 
 You must know that I have a little weakness 
 for Falernian ; and now, since she can no 
 longer give me this warning, I shall go down- 
 hill. It's a pity; I know that very well. I 
 should have made a good mime; it's a pity, 
 a great pity." 
 
 He went off sighing; Rufis still heard 
 him muttering : "A Stoic must not weep; a 
 Stoic conquers pain." Then he saw the boy, 
 who was dragged along, turn around a pillar, 
 and walked on toward his home greeting every 
 one who was standing near with studied hu- 
 mility. On reaching the neighborhood of the 
 Forum, he was stopped by a litter with closed 
 
 40 
 
 ■| 
 
j 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 curtains, surrounded by numerous richly clad 
 bearers. It was obliged to wait for a moment 
 opposite to the Temple of Vesta, because one 
 of the slaves had sprained his foot. The cur- 
 tains were instantly pushed back ; a woman's 
 face, pallid but very beautiful, appeared, and 
 the captain of the bearers gave the information 
 requested. Rufus recognized the Empress 
 Octavia. Her features wore an expression of 
 sympathy as she heard of the accident to the 
 bearer, who sat on the pavement, clasping his 
 ankle. The royal lady wished to get out and 
 walk, but the captain entreated her not to do so. 
 
 " Send the slave home," shf said in a gentle 
 tone, " and see that he • ivc; the best pos- 
 sible care." 
 
 As she was about to leave the litter, a citi- 
 zen, apparently a dyer, forced his way through 
 the slaves. 
 
 " Permit me, august sovereign, to be your 
 bondman to-day I " he exclaimed. " Come, 
 my men, I '11 take the lame bearer's place." 
 
 The Empress smiled. 
 
 " I cannot accept your offer, my good man," 
 she said pleasantly ; but when the dyer per- 
 sisted, she murmured, with an expression of 
 the most winning kindness in her large eyes : 
 " Be it so, then." 
 
 41 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 The bystanders applauded, and the litter 
 moved on amid the joyous cheers of the 
 populace. 
 
 " Now I understand why the people love this 
 woman," Rufus said to himself; and a baker 
 at his side told his neighbor that Octavia had 
 visited the funeral pyre of her father Claudius, 
 which Nero had scattered, to weep there for the 
 basely murdered Emperor, and perhaps to pour 
 libations of wine upon the last remnants of the 
 pile. Another citizen, laughing loudly, was 
 relating Nero's last nocturnal prank. The 
 Emperor, with his own hands, had flung into 
 the cloaca a teacher who was returning home. 
 
 " Not a night passes," said the narrator, 
 " in which the Ctesar does not play some mis- 
 chievous trick. A few days ago he even 
 robbed a cook-shop." 
 
 V: 
 
 
 • i 
 
 42 
 
V: 
 
 , was 
 The 
 
 CHAPTFR III 
 
 NIGHT had long ^ ce closed in upon 
 Rome, the capital of the world; the 
 noise of day had ceased ; the squares and 
 I streets were illumined by the glimmer of the 
 
 waning moon. It was the hour when the 
 peasant drove his cart along the Appian Way 
 to the city, in order to offer his milk and eggs 
 early enough to the still slumbering masters 
 of the houses. It was the hour when the 
 Ethiopian maid rose, yawning, to prepare the 
 rouges and salves, or to cleanse the combs, 
 while her mistress, with hair in curl-papers, 
 and a layer of dough on her face, was still 
 resting ; it was the hour when the slave, on 
 his bed of straw, dreamed of the overseer's 
 lash, to which he must again submit; the 
 bakers were already stumbling half asleep to 
 their ovens, and the trumpets would soon 
 call the soldiers to their drill. Darkness still 
 brooded over the seven hills ; the first glimmer 
 of dawn was quivering in a narrow gray streak 
 over the Esquiline, overspreading the colon- 
 nades of the Temple of Venus with a leaden 
 
 43 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 hue, and tingeing the gilded ornaments of 
 Nero's palace, opposite to the temple, with a 
 fliint crimson tint which glided slowly over the 
 imposing pediment of the building. 
 
 Just at this time a young man was walking 
 along the Via Sacra, gazing dreamily at the 
 cold splendor of the imperial palace, still 
 sleeping in the twilight. So this was the 
 abode of the Ruler of the World ; from these 
 walls the officials bore his commands. Here 
 he celebrated his orgies. 
 
 Metellus had no other thoughts as he looked 
 at this imperial residence. He moved wearily 
 on; his handsome eyes were dull, and the 
 lacerna was flung carelessly about him. Me- 
 tellus, coming from Bilbilis, had landed in Ostia 
 four days before, in order, as the phrase goes, to 
 seek his fortune in Rome, or at least earn a 
 living by his Art, — he was a sculptor. 
 
 Thus far the youth had not succeeded in 
 obtaining employment ; ever since the day of 
 his arrival he had wandered penniless through 
 the streets, thinking of his distant home and 
 repenting that he had listened to the assurances 
 of his friends, who promised him mountains 
 of gold in Rome. Under such circumstances 
 the beauty of the city made little impression 
 upon his mind ; he scarcely saw or heard what 
 
 44 
 
 ^^ 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 was passing around him. " If I only had a 
 good muriena, fattened on human flesh," he 
 said to himself, smiling bitterly, "I should 
 probably be able to value Rome's architectural 
 splendor better. The Temple of Jupiter, 
 viewed with a satisfied stomach, may raise very 
 imposing pillars heavenward; in their present 
 condition, I cannot blame my bowels if they 
 forbid my brain to think, and silence all enthu- 
 siasm with grunbling impatience." 
 
 In tru' • anger and homesickness had put 
 the you :o a strange mood : he thought of 
 
 a little song, a gay little song, which he had 
 heard the laborers in the harbor sing the day 
 before, and began to whistle it; but his lips 
 quivered painfully as he did so, his eyes glit- 
 tered with unshed tears, and the ditty ended in 
 a most unmusical whistle. His poor parents * 
 at home ! He could not be angry with his 
 father now, though he had had good reason; 
 their separation lay like a reconciling hand on 
 his resentful heart. The old man's image rose 
 before his memory. He tried to drive away 
 his sad thoughts by counting the stones in the 
 pavement and mentally raging over the rude 
 statue in a doorway ; but he could not banish 
 his mother's sorrowful face, which gazed at 
 him from the dark street corners. 
 
 45 
 
i 
 
 '■'■ 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 His father, a quick-tempered, somewhat se- 
 vere man, who had moved in his early youth 
 from Rome to Hispania, wished to make the 
 lad an honest ironmonger ; but Metellus re- 
 sisted all the more vehemently because he had 
 found an opportunity to visit a sculptor's studio 
 whenever he chose. There he had nourished 
 his imagination with the forms of heroes and 
 gods; nay, he had secretly studied under the 
 master's instruction. Here, too, he made the 
 acquaintance of Martial, a youth of nineteen, 
 whr most zealously encouraged him to con- 
 tinue in his chosen profession. Our hero, in 
 his present situation, could not help thinking 
 of this 6-iend, too; of the pleasant hours which 
 they had spent walking arm in arm on the bank 
 of the Snlo, dreaming, planning, sometimes 
 e /en improvising Alcasan verses or translating 
 passage from Homer into their native lan- 
 guage. Then came sorrowful days for the 
 young sculptor. With the utmost difficulty 
 consent to devote himself to Art was at last 
 obtained ; but as Art brought no income, the 
 son suffered from his father's ill temper. To the 
 old man an art was a trade, and whoever earned 
 nothing by his art was an idler. 7'he hardest 
 thing for the boy to bear was the contempt with 
 which his father sometimes spoke of his work. 
 
 46 
 
M 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 " I shall yet live to see you go to Rome and 
 die there as a wretched gladiator before the 
 eyes of the mob," was the old man's usual re- 
 mark ; to which the son replied with an almost 
 equally heartless answer. At great expenditure 
 of time and money, the young artist finally suc- 
 ceeded in finishing his first work : a Sisyphus 
 rolling the rock. The statue, which showed 
 traces of the immaturity of youthful genius, 
 found no purchaser; and the jeers the father 
 heaped upon it severed the last bond that 
 united him to the ambitious son. 
 
 In his despair, Metellus found his sole com- 
 forter in his friend Martial, who understood 
 how to cheer him ; but his courage had sunk so 
 low that Martial had great difficulty in with- 
 holding him from committing suicide. The 
 present had always exerted a predominating 
 influence over the artist's mind ; he was driven 
 to despair as quickly as he was comforted, and 
 could laugh and weep in the same moment like 
 a girl. His careless nature, averse to reflection, 
 was prompt to reach a decision, which was just 
 as promptly executed. No one is more ready 
 to cast life away than he who regards it as a 
 light burden. 
 
 The mother took her son's part ; and one 
 day, when her husband told her that he could 
 
 47 
 
!•; 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 do nothing more for the son's training because 
 It would lessen the daughter's dowry, she ad- 
 vanced the money, and Metellus did what he 
 had already planned, — he hastened on board 
 of a trireme bound for Ostia. Martial, when 
 they bade each other farewell, promised to 
 follow, which had no little share in filling the 
 traveller's mind with joyous anticipations. Oh, 
 enthusiasm of youth ! When the boatman 
 shouted, the two friends had kissed each other 
 again, and promised not to break their vow. 
 And what vow had they made to the eternal 
 gods? Nothing less than to avoid women, 
 that contemptible sex, and let friendship fill 
 the place of so-called love. The works of the 
 poets swarmed with instances of the miseries 
 that women brought upon men ; they two 
 would live for each other, as Plato directs. 
 One mild moonlight night they had embraced, 
 and sworn to have nothing to do with women, 
 but after the labor of the day to seek recreation 
 in the serious conversation of men, not in Idle 
 love-dalliance. The ardor of their friendship 
 resembled that of love, and they did not hear 
 the waves of the Salo laugh mischievously as 
 they took the solemn oath. 
 
 All these experiences," with their bright and 
 dark sides, flitted before the mind of the 
 
 48 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 nocturnal pedestrian ; but as he had always 
 believed that reflection over the past or the 
 future was the most foolish act a human being 
 could perform, he quickened his steps and 
 laughed aloud when, after a prolonged search, 
 he found two sestertii still in his purse. " I 
 must seek a wealthy patron," he thought, 
 "that I may receive sour wine and kicks daily 
 as his client. But then, dear Metellus," he 
 went on in his jesting soliloquy, " I will 'have 
 nothing more to do with you ! I 'H have no 
 intercourse with a fellow who is regarded with 
 contempt even by the slaves, and spends his 
 life m paying visits and inventing flatteries- 
 no, my good Metellus, I would far rather see 
 your skin tanned in the gladiators' barracks. 
 The possibility of dying an honorable death 
 m the arena will at once relieve you from the 
 obligation of being the slave of your tyrannical 
 stomach." 
 
 The artist summoned up all the humor he 
 possessed, and felt, as he thought, quite well, 
 especially when he succeeded in dispelling his 
 sorrowful thoughts by noticing what was pass- 
 ing around him. Sometimes his steps were 
 checked by soldiers, whose ranks stretched 
 almost entirely across the street. Rude, 
 brawny fellows, carrying spears, surrounded 
 4 49 
 
1 
 
 ! 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 emaciated figures who held one another clasped 
 in a silent embrace. The latter, as the youth 
 correctly surmised, were Christians destined 
 at daybreak to serve as food for the wild beasts. 
 Often, when an old man tottered along too 
 slowly, he received a thrust from the handle 
 of a soear. 
 
 J. 
 
 Just as the troop reached the niche of the 
 wall into which Metellus was pressing himself, 
 a young, bold-looking soldier dragged an old 
 man forward so roughly by his white beard 
 that the boy on whom he was leaning for 
 support laid his hand on the cruel fellow's arm 
 as if beseeching pity. In return he received 
 a violent kick, which hurled him out of the 
 ranks, almost on the knees of our pedestrian. 
 
 " Forgive me," panted the lad ; and Metel- 
 lus, touched by the large tearful eyes fixed 
 upon him from the child's face, raised the 
 little figure. 
 
 " Hide behind me," he whispered, thrusting 
 him into the darkest corner of the niche. 
 Meanwhile the band had marched on ; the 
 soldier was occupied for the moment with the 
 fainting old man, and when he hurried back 
 to seize the boy whom he had thrust from the 
 ranks, one of the leaders shouted an order 
 which permitted no time for a thorough search. 
 
 5° 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 So he went back, swearing furi( usly, to the 
 prisoners. When Meteilus looked for the lad, 
 he was nowhere to be seen. 
 
 The veil of dusk still concealed everything 
 in the streets leading to the Capitol ; the sun 
 hesitated to wake the "Queen of the Uni- 
 verse," the temples were not yet gray, and the 
 sculptor, yawning, wished tiiat daylight would 
 appear. The pavement of the more distant 
 quarters of the city often rumbled ; then he 
 saw heavy, rudely made wooden carts roll 
 along, drawn by ten to fifteen oxen harnessed 
 one before the other. Sullen roars echoed 
 from these shapeless vehicles ; a hairy muzzle, 
 a tail, a paw armed with claws, often protruded 
 between the clumsy wooden bars ; so Meteilus 
 was not long in doubt as to what cruel stran- 
 gers were here making their entry into Rome, 
 and for what purpose they were transported 
 during the night into the imperial gardens. 
 At the corner of the street leading to the 
 Carinai, a beggar, over whose thin legs 
 Meteilus almost fell, lay sound asleep. 
 
 Ho, ho ! " cried the young sculptor, has- 
 tily supporting himself against the wall. The 
 sleeper slowly rose, but instead of complaining, 
 sighed, stammering drowsily, "Well hit my 
 lord, well hit." 
 
 51 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 " By the dog ! " said Mctellus, « is he thank- 
 ing me for the kick I gave him ? " 
 
 The other, meanwliile, waking more fully, 
 rubbed his eyes, and seeing the disturber of 
 his rest, said laughing, — 
 
 " Pardon me, my. young friend ; you have 
 rendered me a pleasant service : you waked me 
 from a disagreeable dream." 
 
 " How is that ? " asked the sculptor. 
 "Just think," replied the old man, "I 
 dreamed that I was sitting at the table of my 
 patron, the ^^Ldile, and he again played one of 
 his rude jokes on me to make his guests 
 laugh. I entertained him, as usual, with mas- 
 sages from the philosophers ; in return he flung 
 a ham-bone at my head, which jest I humbly 
 applauded with the cry : ' Well hit ! ' " 
 
 " And do you submit to such humiliations 
 without a murmur?" asked Metellus. 
 
 " O ye Muses ! What will not a man do 
 for the sake of a hot dinner? " replied the phi- 
 losopher, yawning. " Besides, who humiliates 
 himself the most, — the mocker or the mocked ? 
 And what are jeers when we look at them closely ? 
 Where is the person, who does not deserve to 
 be derided, to be found in this world? Mock- 
 ery is a merry reproof, and no one should be 
 too proud to be reproved, young man." 
 
 52 
 
le thaiik- 
 
 )re fully, 
 urber of 
 
 ou have 
 'aked me 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 nan. 
 
 (C 
 
 I 
 
 e of my 
 d one of 
 3 guests 
 'ith pas- 
 he flung 
 humbly 
 
 iliations 
 
 man do 
 the phi- 
 mil iatcs 
 locked ? 
 closely? 
 serve to 
 Mock- 
 3uld be 
 
 With these words, the Cynic threw his 
 tattered cloak around his lean body, spit vi^- 
 oroiisly into the gutter, and, scorning the dirt 
 around hnn, leaned comfortably against the 
 wall. ° 
 
 "Judging by your speech, you seem to be 
 a Greek? asked Mctellus, curiously. 
 
 "I congratulate myself upon having been 
 born under the blue sky of glorious Athens " 
 replied the philosopher. * 
 
 " And do you always spend the night in 
 the gutter ? " the sculptor continued. 
 
 " The highest virtue is contentment," said 
 the Greek, taking from his pocket a bit of 
 mouldy bread, which he began to gnaw. 
 
 " Up to this time I have not carried it so 
 far as you," said Metellus ; " I prefer a bed 
 no matter how hard, to the stones of the 
 street. 
 
 The Athenian moved nearer to the unsus- 
 picious artist. 
 
 "I know well," he began, scratching his 
 left hip, -« I know well what value men 
 usually set on gold. For my part, I utterly 
 despise it. ^ 
 
 Metellus, sitting down on a projection in 
 the w-^ 1 by the speaker's side, declared that 
 he fi^Ily shared this contempt. The sage, 
 
 53 
 
I ! 
 
 I 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 laying his hand familiarly on his young lis- 
 tener's knee, went on : " Education, my friend, 
 
 that is the capital with which to speculate, 
 
 a capital which bears interest, and which can 
 never be stolen from you. But are you safe 
 from thieves so long as a single sestertius 
 remains in your purse ? " 
 
 " Certainly not," said our friend, thought- 
 fully. 
 
 "A man who has education," the other 
 continued, "possesses everything he needs, 
 even virtue. But virtue is the highest good. 
 By virtue I especially mean honesty. With 
 it we can go far in the world, for how much 
 easier it renders life if we need neither cheat 
 nor steal ; and really he does not possess the 
 highest good who is obliged to live in perpet- 
 ual anxiety lest he should be caught in some 
 knavery. True, it is said that there is a cer- 
 tain pleasure in having overreached a block- 
 head; hut it seems to me that the person 
 outwitted must have more satisfaction in hav- 
 ing been the man who was cheated, than the 
 cheat, for many pockets are certainly very 
 narrow." 
 
 In the course of this explanation the philos- 
 opher had edged nearer and nearer to his 
 attentive pupil, and appeared to feel a keen 
 
 54 
 
 
ung lis- 
 f friend, 
 ilate, — 
 lich can 
 ^ou safe 
 jstertius 
 
 liought- 
 
 2 other 
 needs, 
 t good. 
 With 
 V much 
 ;r cheat 
 less the 
 perpet- 
 n some 
 s a cer- 
 block- 
 person 
 n h av- 
 ian the 
 ^ very 
 
 philos- 
 to his 
 a keen 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 interest in his cloak, which he felt cautiously ; 
 and when Meteilus noticed it, the Stoic said' 
 reproachfully : 
 
 " What fine cloth you wen on vour body ! 
 Feel my cloak; it is as r uoh as \ny beard. 
 You seem to be an Epicure ui,' 
 
 Before the youth could an • ■.:■,-. the strange 
 fellow rose. 
 
 " I am in the habit of bathing in the Tiber 
 at this hour of the night," he said ; " it 
 hardens the body. Farewell, my friend, and 
 take to heart the lessons I have given you." 
 
 The Stoic moved off far more rapidly than 
 would have been expected from a man of his 
 fragile appearance, and Meteilus admired the 
 simplicity of his habits and the honesty of his 
 principles, That is the life we ought to lead, 
 he thought, ever ready to express our thoughts 
 with the same dignity, whether we are at the 
 Emperor's table or in the mire of the gutter; 
 sacrificing all pleasures, scorning the world, 
 meditating upon virtue, submitting to every 
 insult without taking vengeance, — yes, that 
 is indeed a noble existence. 
 
 With the enthusiasm of youth, the artist's 
 childlike nature painted the advantages of a 
 Stoic's career, though he was certainly the last 
 person who would have found pleasure in such 
 
 55 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 I 
 
 fl ;1 
 
 a life. But his raptures were soon to be 
 thoroughly cooled. When, by accident, he 
 thrust his hand into his purse, he found it 
 empty; his two sestertii had been cautiously 
 transferred to the pocket of the philosopher, 
 whose beautiful maxims of honesty probably 
 exerted a great power of attraction upon coins. 
 Metellus laughed aloud. He was not 
 enraged with the old man who had taken 
 advantage of his inexperience, but merely 
 marvelled at the cunning and dexterity with 
 which he had managed to cheat him. " Now," 
 he thought, " I am really the original man ; so 
 long as I had money, there was a touch of 
 artificiality in me. It's lucky that it costs 
 nothmg to breathe Roman air or to drink from 
 the water-pipes. I could not even pay the 
 ferryman of the nether world, if he should 
 summon me to his boat now." • He again burst 
 into a peal of laughter which rang with child- 
 like mirth through the quiet streets of the 
 Subura, whose taverns were still closed. But 
 It was suddenly echoed by approaching voices. 
 Whistles, minglea with the noise of confused 
 shouts, and reeling steps were heard. 
 
 Could these be watchmen, Metellus won- 
 dered a., turning the next corner, he saw several 
 figures advancing toward him with the bearing 
 
 56 
 
1 to be 
 lent, he 
 bund it 
 utiously 
 jsopher, 
 •robably 
 n coins, 
 as not 
 [ taken 
 
 merely 
 ty with 
 
 Now," 
 lan ; so 
 uch of 
 t costs 
 k from 
 >ay the 
 should 
 n burst 
 
 child- 
 of the 
 . But 
 voices, 
 nfused 
 
 won- 
 several 
 learing 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 of aristocratic debauchees, sometimes pound- 
 ing insolently on the doors of the houses, some- 
 times, after the usual fashion of drunkards, 
 affectionately embracing one another. All 
 were muffled in strange, motley garments, 
 while hideous masks concealed their features. 
 The whole train was apparently trying to 
 represent the gods, but there was something 
 indescribably childish in the parade ; nay, the 
 gestures and insignia of the majority were 
 unseemly in the highest degree. 
 
 Metellus remembered having heard that it 
 was one of the amusements of Roman prof- 
 ligates to toss in blankets peaceful citizens 
 who met them on their way home from their 
 nocturnal orgies. So, though he did not lack 
 courage, he resolved, as a stranger, to avoid a 
 brawl, and was just evading the band when the 
 torch held aloft by the foremost threw a broad 
 glare of light upon the pavement. He was 
 seen and instantly surrounded by faces whose 
 motionless, dimly lighted grin inspired a sense 
 of fear. 
 
 " Why are you laughing ? " asked one of 
 the disguised figures in a stern, feigned voice, 
 and then whispered through the huge mouth 
 of his mask into the ear of one of his com- 
 panions. The latter, who was costumed in 
 
 57 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 I 
 
 the insignia of Apollo, nodded; and the other, 
 planting himself with legs wide apart before 
 the sculptor, again asked with malicious 
 emphasis, — 
 
 "Why are you laughing? The gods, who 
 to-day condescend to honor the streets of 
 Rome, ask the question." 
 
 " I am laughing," replied Metellus, quickly, 
 " becau^:<i you arc vexed that you cannot laugh, 
 too ; for there is no dainty more delicious, my 
 lord, than laughter : the gods envy us its en- 
 joyment. But really I don't know myself 
 why I am laughing, for I have no reason to 
 be gay." 
 
 " Do you suppose you can trifle with Jupiter, 
 miserable mortal .? " growled another. 
 
 "Tell us at once why you are laughing," 
 cried a third, raising his staff, " or your mirth 
 will be instantly transformed to weeping." 
 
 " Fie ! " replied the artist, apparently enter- 
 ing into the jest, " is laughing forbidden by the 
 police regulations of Rome .? But you shall 
 never knov just because you wish to learn; 
 and if the Emperor himself should stand before 
 me, he would get no other answer." 
 
 "Apollo, do you hear, he disdains the 
 Emperor," said the questioner, turning to his 
 companions. 
 
 58 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 " Do you know the Emperor ? " asked the 
 Apollo, whose feminine outlines and reddish 
 hair were recognizable in spite of his disguise. 
 
 " No, my lord," replied Metellus, peevishly; 
 " I have been in Rome only a few days, and 
 my friendly intercourse with coins is extremely 
 fleeting, so I never had an opportunity to gaze 
 at the Emperor's likeness more than two 
 minutes." 
 
 The former speaker now turned to the 
 group surrounding him, and with a gesture 
 of mock solemnity said, — 
 
 "Cudgel him for not having yet seen the 
 Emperor, and then put a red-hot denarius on 
 his cheek to imprint the Caesar's image upon 
 it." 
 
 " That is contrary to law," Metullus expos- 
 tulated ; " and if there are any watchmen in 
 Rome, one will see whether your absurd mas- 
 querade is permitted to attack peaceful citizens ; " 
 but he had scarcely finished the words when 
 blows from several thyrsus staves rained on his 
 shoulders. Metellus, v.-hose composure was 
 wholly destroyed, chose the youth addressed 
 as Apollo for the object of his wrath, since, 
 as leader of the party, he believed him to be 
 the instigator of the sorry jest. He quietly al- 
 lowed the others to splinter their staves on his 
 
 59 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 back, watched his opportunity, made a skilful 
 side spring, snatched the lyre of the rmd of 
 s^ ng, and dealt the Olympian's head so violent 
 a blow w.th it that his mask was shattered into 
 fragments, disclosing a very astonished fHce 
 His companions instantly fell upon the insul- 
 ter of the divinity. 
 
 " Save Apollo ! Throw him into th'^ clo'ica " 
 was shouted as if by a single mouth; and 'in 
 spite of the most desperate resistance, Mctcllus 
 was soon held firmly. Apollo watched the 
 struggle with an angry laugh, but hastily bor- 
 rowed another mask from ot-e of his trpin 
 
 "Is this the Roman method of fightiiirr'" 
 groaned the ill-treated youth, when, after . ^oL 
 conflict, he at last escaped from the arms . ' "lis 
 tormentors, « ten against one ? If you re not 
 drunken rakes or dishonorable highwaymen 
 choose one of your band, confront me with 
 him and I'll show you what Hispanian arms 
 can do. I have hewr. marble ; do you suppose 
 flesh fattened on pasties, bathed or anointed, is 
 harder to deal with than a block of Parian 
 marble : 
 
 As no answer came, only a confused mur- 
 mur runnmg from one to another, the speaker 
 went on, — ^ 
 
 "True, the Roman of to-day tries i,i, 
 
 60 
 
a skilful 
 goii of 
 3 violent 
 red into 
 ed face, 
 e insul- 
 
 cloaca," 
 and, in 
 ^ctcllus 
 led the 
 \y hor- 
 tmin. 
 hring," 
 J! 'ong 
 3 • >' "lis 
 aid not 
 lymen, 
 e with 
 1 arms 
 ippose 
 I ted, is 
 Parian 
 
 mur- 
 jealcer 
 
 s Jiisf 
 
 Empress Octavia . 
 
 strength only in pressing the cushions of 
 couches at the banquet, and is brave only 
 against woman's virtue. So let me go my 
 way." ^ 
 
 He threw his cloak over his shoulders, cast 
 a scornful glance at the party, and prepared 
 to move on. His powerful though not tall 
 figure seemed to intimidate the profligates. 
 The haughty manner in which his muscular 
 arm held the lacerna across his breast, his 
 rough goat-skin garment from which his round 
 knee protruded in the vigor of youth, his firm 
 step, the clear gaze of his frank eyes, flashing 
 with the influence of excitement, did not fail 
 to produce a certain impression ; and he h- -^ 
 taken only a few steps when a voice shou-d 
 in a tone by no means unfriendly: "Stop." 
 He turned carelessly and saw a figure attired 
 as Neptune whispering eagerly to the Apollo. 
 
 " Wait a moment, young man," called Nep- 
 tune, and again turned with eager gesticula- 
 tions to Apollo. Metellus felt that the two 
 were talking about him. Sometimes they 
 scanned him intently, pointed at him, and 
 appeared to be discussing the pros and cons 
 of a plan. Although he had intended to go 
 on, curiosity now bound the sculptor to the 
 spot. " What, by Zeus, can they be whisper- 
 
 6i 
 
i ! 
 
 I 
 
 M i 
 
 1*1 ' 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 ing about?" he rmrmured as he saw ApoIKo 
 laughing, shake his head and ^vave his h.nd in 
 denial. 
 
 "Your plan seems too bold," he heard him 
 say. 
 
 " By no means, my lord," the other an- 
 swe.v.d. Then followed several unintelligible 
 sentences, until at last Apollo was silent, while 
 the othc", -uking advantage of the opportunity 
 appeared to crowd all his former arguments' 
 into a single long sentence. 
 
 " Then make the attempt," whispered 
 Apollo, at Its conclusion; and Neptune, bow- 
 ing most graciously, at once approached Me- 
 telius, who had vainly racked his brains to 
 guess the purport of this singular dialogue. 
 
 "Pardon our attack upon your precious 
 person," said Neptune, courteously ; " we were 
 mistaken in you. I am sorry that you chanced 
 to be the one to fall into our hands." 
 
 " It would certainly have been better if an- 
 other back than mine had chanced to have the 
 honor of serving as anvil for your hands," re- 
 plied Metellus, in his talkative fashion. « No 
 one can take my blows from me ; but I am 
 glad that I have marked the divine brow of 
 your leader, that rake, that Apollo, wit;- .- 
 blue spot which will last several days." 
 
 62 
 
im 
 
 an- 
 
 I 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 "Then we will consider the incident as for- 
 gotten, said Neptune, adroitly. « My younff 
 fnend I address you in the name of my mas 
 
 fortu'Ie'^' '^ ^°'' '°"''"'' '' ""^^^ ^° "^^^^ y°"^ 
 I* And who is your master ? " asked Metellus. 
 
 the rtrerri'^Ty;'" """^°^^°^'" -p^^^^ 
 
 myVt^tune.j'" "^^ '' ^"" '^^''' ^ -^^ 
 
 fou'r^h'" '' '^ E'^Peror's palace to-morrow, 
 four hours after sunnse. There you will re- 
 
 from 'ou 'P^'"''''" °^^^'' '' "°^ concealed 
 
 "The Emperor's palace?" asked Metellus 
 Jaughmg. " I suppose you feel at liberty to' 
 make sport of me. Call at my palace, four 
 stones high in the Jew quarter. There I 
 too, imght explain many things unknown to' 
 
 The mysterious mask's only reply was to 
 
 ask the name of the youth, write it oVa tablet! 
 add a few words, and hand it to him. Me- 
 
 J'ght of a torch; it was an order to the palace 
 guard to admit the bearer of this tablet and 
 conduct him to the Emperor's ante-room. 
 Ihe sculptor shook his head. 
 
 63 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 " If you are speaking the truth," he said, " I 
 shall be still less inclined to accept your 
 proposal." 
 
 " And why ? " 
 
 "At least I should wish to know more 
 definitely for what purpose I am summoned 
 to Nero's ante-chamber." 
 " You will learn later." 
 " This is a serious matter to me," said 
 Metellus, gravely; " for what do you take me ? 
 Do I look like a scoundrel who can be used 
 for unlawful purposes ? Am I a wily Greek ? 
 A poison-brewing woman ? I have no fancy 
 for the Emperor's palace. All sorts of tales 
 are heard of what is done there — " 
 
 These words, spoken in a somewhat louder 
 tone, were probably caught by the group wait- 
 ing near; at least, they were greeted with 
 immoderate laughter. 
 
 " What are those fellows laughing at ? " 
 murmured the young man. 
 
 "Do you fear us?" replied the disguised 
 figure, joining in the laugh. 
 
 " Call it what you please, but I forbid your 
 laughing at me ; there is no cause for it." 
 
 "Your artlessness is delicious," said the 
 other, patting him on the shoulder. " I like 
 you, my boy, and I swear that you shall ex- 
 
 64 
 
. the 
 : like 
 
 1 ex- 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 perience nothing unpleasant in the imperial 
 palace. Clasp hands ! Promise to be there." 
 " I '11 think of it, but don't call me a boy, I 
 beg ; it is not very complimentary to my 
 eighteen years." 
 
 " You are hungry, my friend, I see," replied 
 the disguised speaker, " while at the same time 
 you are too honest to steal, so you will not let 
 this opportunity of earning a large, a very 
 large sum, pass by. Your trade .? " he added 
 haughtily. 
 
 " I am a sculptor." 
 
 " So much the better," was the reply. "A 
 sculptor, a handsome person, and waving red 
 locks, you possess everything necessary to 
 make your fortune in Rome." 
 
 The masked stranger hurried back to his 
 group of friends, leaving the bewildered artist 
 to his amazement. Red hair was fashionable 
 in Rome at that time. Metellus understood 
 the hint ; and since he had a little vanity and 
 intended to make his fortune, his flatterer at 
 once appeared in a pleasanter light. 
 
 The party of disguised revellers now went 
 off with loud shouts, waving their torches till 
 the houses were illumined to their roofs by the 
 crimson glare. Our fair-haired artist looked 
 after the reticuiing figures, shook his head 
 5 65 
 
II: 
 
 n 
 
 I 
 
 '-^' 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 and decided that he was either n favorite of the 
 gods, or a creature doo. .^a to uesLruction. 
 
 " What can they want of me ? " he asked 
 himself again, but perceiving that it was as im- 
 possible to solve this enigma as to pierce the 
 clouds and enter Olympus, he dismissed the 
 whole matter from his mind, — which to one of 
 his temperament, averse to reflection on any 
 subject, was comparatively easy. Perhaps it 
 might be some mysterious task, an imperial 
 caprice ; perhaps one of the Emperor's loves, 
 whose existence no one was permitted to know, 
 was to be modelled, thought Metellus, rubbing 
 his hands gleefully ; and though he had just 
 been suspicious of the whole adventure, he 
 suddenly resolved to go to the palace at the 
 fourth hour. Then his thoughts wandered to 
 an entireb different sub- ct, till he suddenly 
 realized thu^ he was thirsty, and he stopped 
 beside a fountain. 
 
 Bending down to the mcuth of the marble 
 lion's head to catch in his hand the si'ver 
 jet which it was furiously -outing, Metellus 
 washed his face vigoi isly .vith both hands; 
 and while thus engag in laking his toilet, 
 he saw a helmeted he^vi reflected in the green 
 crystal of the basin of the fountain. Turning, 
 he perceived a soldier, whom he remembered 
 
 66 
 

 ite of the 
 Lion. 
 
 he asked 
 'as as im- 
 ierce the 
 issed the 
 to one of 
 
 on any 
 ?rhaps it 
 
 imperial 
 r's loves, 
 to know, 
 , rubbing 
 had just 
 iture, he 
 ce at the 
 dered to 
 suddenly 
 
 stopped 
 
 ; marble 
 [e s'''/er 
 VIetellus 
 hands ; 
 is toilet, 
 le green 
 furning, 
 enibered 
 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 having seen the day before. Yes ! it was at 
 the Circus Max.mus, in front of an astrologer's 
 booth, that he had encountered this Jew uith 
 the pinched, glccmy face, who had harshly 
 rebuffed him. Rufus was standing beh.nd the 
 artist cooling his brow by dipping his hand 
 nto the fountain and pressing it upon his 
 
 emples Metdlus dried his face and\urned 
 familiarly to the soldier. 
 
 "Aurora is gradually beginning to raise her 
 fingers above the capital of the world," he 
 
 said; "at least I see her son, the morning star, 
 twUiKhng faintly above the I'emple of Isis 
 A din gray hue already illumines the pedi- 
 ments of th loftiest palaces; we must wash 
 and combe, -Ives to be in readiness for the 
 awakening of Rome." 
 
 Rufus, who was not pleasantly affected bv 
 the unexpected meeting, had turned to go with- 
 out answering the kindly address; but Metellus 
 in his artless heedlessness, did not notice tha; 
 the Jew would have preferred to pursue his way 
 alone so joining the soldier, he walked silently 
 beside the si'^nt man. ^ 
 
 than that presented by these two figures, puss- 
 
 ng side by side through the empt'y str;e'tsm 
 the deo ptive glimmering light of dawn. The 
 
 67 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 warrior, erect and sinewy, showed, beneath the 
 iron clasps of his armor, muscles hardened by 
 training. His step was firm ; and when he 
 raised his helmeted head, his shaggy beard 
 bared a thin neck with swollen veins. The 
 youth's rounded outlines were set off by a skin 
 almost girlish in its fairness. Manly strength 
 and feminine grace blended in him in the man- 
 ner which is especially bewitching to older 
 women. He was shorter than the soldier ; wav- 
 ing locks fell over his forehead almost to his 
 beautifully arched eyebrows ; the curve of his 
 cheek ended in a delicate chin. The fire of 
 his glance and the virility of his slender figure 
 lent his face dignity and nobility. But the lo- 
 quacious artist could not endure this silent walk 
 long. He criticised the badly painted signs of 
 the vegetable or meat dealers, the unnecessary 
 number of pillars in many of the houses, but 
 Rufus's sole reply was a brief clearing of the 
 throat or a distrustful glance. This, however, 
 by no means disturbed him in his remarks; he 
 even had courage to question the gloomy 
 soldier about his silence. 
 
 " Do you know," he at last asked gayly, 
 "how one can get a piece of bread without 
 paying for it? I am hungrier than Tantalus." 
 
 Rufus smiled contemptuously, and silently 
 
 68 
 
 I 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 leath the 
 ilcncd by 
 when he 
 jy beard 
 IS. The 
 3y a skin 
 
 strength 
 :he man- 
 to older 
 er; wav- 
 3t to his 
 ^e of his 
 le fire of 
 2r figure 
 t the lo- 
 ent walk 
 
 signs of 
 lecessary 
 jses, but 
 5 of the 
 lowever, 
 irks; he 
 
 gloomy 
 
 d gayly, 
 without 
 
 mtalus." 
 silently 
 
 offered the youth a small coin. Metellus 
 pushed his hand back. 
 
 " I will accept no gift bestowed in that way," 
 he said proudly. 
 
 Kufus pocketed his money again, shrugged 
 his shoulders, and flushed to his helmet as he 
 now spoke for the first time to his com- 
 panion. 
 
 " What is your calling? " he asked half un- 
 intelligibly, as if it dishonored him tc seem 
 communicative. 
 
 " 1 am a sculptor," replied Metellus, irately, 
 running his fingers through his shaggy goatskin 
 garment. 
 
 " A stone-cutter ! " muttered the Jew, scorn- 
 fully. 
 
 "You do not seem to love the arts," an- 
 swered Metellus, without taking offence. 
 
 " No, I do not ! " retorted .he other. " [ 
 honor the laws, and believe that a great orator, 
 a great general, resembles your gods far more 
 than Virgil, Homer, and Ovid put together; 
 but least of all can I understand why people 
 want to carve men from stones." 
 
 "That is a matter of taste," said Metellus, 
 smiling sarcastically. "Nero loves the arts." 
 
 " He loves them, as I would love them, to 
 shine by their means." 
 
 69 
 
,i : 
 
 Iff- 
 PI 
 
 ill 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 " There you are mistaken," said the artist, 
 sharply. « Nero writes verses, models, plays 
 the zither. Whoever pursues an art is ennobled 
 by it: the Caesar cannot be as bad as people 
 in the provinces try to represent him ; his love 
 for art proves that. Has he not had a colossal 
 statue of himself made for his Golden House ? " 
 " Yes, and behind the yew hedges in his 
 gardens lurk many white forms : that is the 
 fashion ; everybody follows it. If I were as 
 rich as a Tigellinus or a Piso, I, too, would 
 place these pallid marble ghosts in the shadow 
 of the elms, but I would laugh to scorn both 
 statues and sculptors." 
 
 " Would you like to be rich ? " asked the 
 artist, to turn the conversation. 
 
 " A foolish question ! " replied the other. 
 " Why do we live ? If I knew that I should 
 never get any further in the world than to be 
 a file-leader, would it not be senseless for me 
 to live on ? " 
 
 Metellus had a different opinion, but he 
 kept it to himself, for the soldier's positive, 
 bold nature disheartened him. The jew began 
 to prove the uselessness of the arts, repre- 
 sented reason as the supreme power of man's 
 soul, and spoke contemptuously of that which 
 was called imagination. The youth had few 
 
 70 
 
 hi t 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 opposing arguments. He felt that Rufus was 
 wrong, but at the moment he could not find 
 the fitting reasoning. " Necessity is every- 
 thing," said the gloomy man ; " the rest is mere 
 trifling. Life is too serious to fritter it away in 
 amusement and beautiful marble faces ; when 
 stern, savage reality confronts you, you must 
 not lose yourself in a realm of fancy." The 
 two had changed characters : the artist was now 
 silent and depressed, while the soldier grew 
 talkative. 
 
 " A miserable world," he said spitefully, '' in 
 which it is only worth while to live when one 
 has five million sestertii, or is a fool. The 
 fools have the best of it; they secure honors 
 and offices, like a Vatinius. I wish I had 
 been born, like him, in n. cobbler's shop, a 
 hunchbacked, long-eared monster; then I 
 would soon hold this whole marble Rome in 
 my hairy fist. A zither-player is well off, too, 
 if he knows enough to let Nero win the victory. 
 What do you think of getting ourselves places 
 in the band of the Caesar's applauders ? They 
 have a yearly salary, wear fine clothes, and 
 have nothing to do except clap their hands 
 occasionally." 
 
 Amid such conversation the couple, leaving 
 the Temple of Lares at the left, had reached 
 
 71 
 
I'li 
 
 r^ 
 
 . i ! 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 the Val Murcia. The artist did not notice 
 that Rufus was intentional'v going toward the 
 Circus. Metellus had proposed taking another 
 direction; and Rufus, turning toward the Capi- 
 tol apparently assented to the suggestion, but 
 n the course of their talk, he had managed to 
 take the way leading past the wrestling-school 
 on the Coehan Hill. While chatting Ltinu- 
 ously, he had often cast searching glances at 
 his companion, who strolled unsuspectingly 
 bes.de him, and was greatly surprised to find 
 himself suddenly at the entrance of the 
 Circus. 
 
 Here they beheld a scene whose terrible 
 details gained a certain melancholy charm by 
 the veil of the dim light of dawn. While in 
 the distance the first travellers, singing and 
 aughing, were already entering the city through 
 the Capenian Gate, here sad-faced men were 
 hurrying out of the door of the building; 
 others followed weeping, bearing forms muffled 
 in blood-stained linen ; others again seemed to 
 be watching at the street corners to give warn- 
 ing of the approach of danger. 
 
 The blood-stained burdens were dragged 
 out of the entrance hastily and fearfully; often 
 the end of a sheet escaped from the bearer's 
 trembling hand, revealing, in the faint light of 
 
 72 
 
 ill 
 
 \ 
 
 c 
 
 f 
 
 h 
 

 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 dawn, a mangled neck, a horribly disfigured 
 
 Metellus guessed that the Christians were 
 carrying the bodies of their murdered breth- 
 ren out of the arena to bury them in the 
 <-atacombs. 
 
 The body of a young man was just being 
 aken w,th great exertion down the n,arblt 
 
 S' / YT ~ '"'" ''''"' »"d .-m aged 
 mother -forced back their tears; their sfbs 
 became pantmg breathing as they struggled to 
 hft the corpse from step to step. A trail of 
 blood tnckhng from the linen, marked the 
 way along the marble. The face of the body 
 was covered ; the nose formed a strange eleva- 
 t^n m the gray covering on which the increas- 
 mg hgh cast font, dull rays. The n,orning 
 breeze blew ch.ll, bearing the odor of blood to 
 the two spectators; the chariot of victory 
 above the entrance gleamed redly ; the goddess 
 rf v,ctory hovered in a cold' purpl! ha^e 
 H.gh aloft m the grayish blue sky, majestic 
 unsympath,zmg, she curbed the rearing steeds 
 wh.le the steps and pillars of the building were 
 dyed with blood. ^ 
 
 front of the corpse; his eyelids drooped as if 
 he were on the verge of fainting as he tottered 
 
 73 
 
l> 
 
 rr 
 
 li- 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 past the two spectators whom, in his bewilder- 
 ment, he seemed to take for Christians. "My 
 sole support," he wailed, extending his luincl 
 as if for a gift. 
 
 Metellus was not well disposed toward the 
 Christians. As an artist, he execrated a reli- 
 gion which rejected all representations of the 
 deity in sculpture and painting ; the superstition 
 seemed rude and bald, fit only for beggars and 
 simpletons. Yet now, touched by compassion, 
 he opened his purse, and, with a sorrowful 
 shrug of the shoulders, showed that it was 
 empty. The old man, smiling sadly, put his 
 hand into his pocket and was about to throw 
 a coin into the wallet. Metellus, utterly be- 
 wildered, pushed back the proffered alms. 
 The old man went on ; and as the body was 
 carried past them, the sculptor could not re- 
 frain from lifting a corner of the cloth which 
 covered it. 
 
 The mother noticed it, and, pausing, said in 
 a passionate outburst of the grief she had been 
 repressing: "Yes, young man, look at him; 
 see how handsome he is ; an angel has kissed 
 the horrors of death from his brow." She 
 raised the winding-sheet. Before Metellus lay 
 the most beautiful youth whom he had ever 
 beheld : a noble anger slept upon the ivory- 
 
 74 
 
 t] 
 1 
 o 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 white brow ; defiance of death rested gloomily 
 on the blue-black eyebrows ; the exquisite lips 
 were slightly parted as if about to utter a con- 
 temptuous word. The matron, who was still 
 stately, even beautiful, in her anguish, clasped 
 the hands of the departed one over his breast 
 
 " I wish that he had been my friend," whis- 
 pered Metellus, deeply moved, to the mother. 
 The latter nodded, gazing dully into vacancy, 
 while tears sprang to her reddened eyelids. 
 1 hen she slowly covered the dead man's mo- 
 tion ess face and helped to bear on the corpse. 
 As Rufus, with sudden resolution, hastened up 
 the steps to the entrance, the youth slowly 
 followed. His heart throbbed heavily as he 
 entered the cell of the condemned man, whose 
 door now stood wide open, affording a view 
 of the arena, strewn with corpses. The long 
 rows of seats were empty ; only a few bright 
 spots, interrupting the monotonous gray hue 
 of the stone stairs, showed that one or another 
 of the spectators, instead of going home, had 
 preferred to spend the night on his cushions 
 in the Circus. 
 
 The pale light of dawn glimmered above 
 ^e highest row of arches down into the arena 
 The moon looked wan in the white radiance 
 ot the early morning, as her indifferent, pallid 
 
 75 
 
i |i 
 
 1 , 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 face hovered above the heaps of corpses of 
 men and animals, whose Hmbs sometimes still 
 quivered, that lay scattered over the sand as 
 if Death had given a festival. How many 
 shades were doubtless already surrounding the 
 gloomy ferryman ! How silently the skiff 
 was doubtless now gliding through the slug- 
 gish waves, past the distant rocky shores which 
 men behold but once ! How did they dwell 
 in the eternal twilight, amid the croaking of 
 the horrible birds ! Hence, sorrowful visions ! 
 Clear up, frowning brow ! 
 
 The morning breeze bore the warm, sweet 
 odor of blood toward the sculptor, who would 
 have shuddered at the spectacle of this battle- 
 field had not the characteristic attitude, the 
 noble outlines of the limbs of many a corpse 
 awakened his artistic interest. The cool colors 
 of the morning light softened the inhuman 
 aspect of the scene and gave it a wild grandeur, 
 an unprecedented beauty. He suppressed a 
 yawn, wrapped his mantle closer about his 
 shivering limbs, and prepared to enter the 
 next cell. Far away torches, moving to 
 and fro, twinkled like stars in the blue 
 morning mist. Slaves were removing the 
 bodies, shovelling away the blood-stained 
 sand, driving off the ravens which hovered 
 
 76 
 
■f 
 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 croaking over the piles of corpses. In the 
 next cell a keeper of the beasts was snoring 
 on the floor among his water-pails and brooms, 
 digesting the leeks and onions which his wife 
 had served up to him the evening before. 
 Through the closed grating of the cage a lion 
 was visible, pressing its head against the bars ; 
 while the blood, flowing from a wound in the 
 hip, covered the floor. Metellus sympathiz- 
 ingly watched the royal brute, as it let its hurt 
 bleed without a sound of pain, turning its angry 
 eyes contemptuously away from the world. In 
 this cell a sturdy keeper also lay asleep, still 
 holding in his hand a bit of meat. Metellus 
 again gazed at the dying lion, which remained 
 motionless, then seized a butcher-knife and 
 scrawled upon the table used to cut the meat 
 the oudines of the dying brute. " There," he 
 said, when he had finished the picture, " now 
 1 shall not forget you." 
 
 He went toward the arena in a more thought- 
 ful mood than he had ever been before. He 
 could not have explained the cause of his re- 
 flections ; they rested upon his consciousness 
 like a burden which could not be shaken off; 
 a melancholy that he had never felt, a mourn- 
 fulness which astonished him, occupied his 
 mind. Striving to escape it, he paused before 
 
 77 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 the body of a mother who was clasping her 
 dead child to her breast, then before the corpse 
 of an old man who grasped a strangled leopard. 
 He scanned the lifeless features, sought to 
 fathom the last thoughts of these pitiable mar- 
 tyrs, and gazed into their dull eyes. 
 
 Meanwhile the image of the handsome youth 
 whom he had just seen borne away haunted 
 him ; and as the pale, reproachful face rose 
 before his mental vision, the atmosphere sud- 
 denly grew so close and oppressive that he 
 gasped for breath and hurried on. He felt as 
 if he ought to admire the beautiful dead, nay, 
 envy his lot. What would he not have given 
 to -be able to live in the companionship of such 
 a man, how he suddenly longed for friendship, 
 and how lonely and desolate it seemed among 
 these wan sleepers in great, unsympathizing 
 Rome ! For the first time in years he, who 
 found life so gay, felt as if he must weep, and 
 that, with the tears, his happy childhood 
 would flee, never to return. His heart seethed 
 with resentment against Rome, which had so 
 swiftly wrought a transformation in his feelings 
 and opinions; he envied the slaves laughing 
 yonder with heartless indifference and cracking 
 jokes as they dragged the corpses through the 
 sand ; only base souls like theirs could be at 
 
 78 
 
 I 
 

 at 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 ease in this city. Either the unv^onted spec- 
 tacle, or the hunger which had tormented him 
 foH.oursafFected^M 
 ness , but conquermg ,t he went up to Rufus 
 
 otr'girK' "" ^""'"^ ^"'^^ '^'""''^ b°"y 
 
 The Praetorian had found what he was seek- 
 ing. Lucretia, whose face had haunted him 
 more than he desired, Jay before him. Around 
 h r were the clumsy bodies of dead bears ; 
 a Jeopard w,th a stab in his breast stretched its 
 jaws wide open ; another stiJl cJenched a woman's 
 head with its teeth. 
 
 by the dead bod.es of men and animals ; pro- 
 tected by the lifeless, she had been aved 
 As she lay „g,d before the bearded man, who 
 
 ove to bamsh every traceof con, passion from 
 h.s features, ,t was a strangely peaceful picture 
 m the m,dst of these horrors, illumined by the 
 dazzhng rays ofthe morning sun 
 
 The soldier brought a pail from the cell 
 up,ed by the keeper, and sprinkled the 
 g.rl s face w,th water. The only sign of life 
 
 wasther,smgandfdli„gofherbLt,.the 
 rest of her form lay „,otionless. Her black 
 ha.r mo,st with mire, blood, and water, was 
 plastered upon her brow and cheeks, forming 
 
 79 * 
 

 Empress Octavia 
 
 a frame in which the nobly formed, wan fea- 
 tures, absolutely expressionless, had a spectral 
 appearance. Her helplessness was well suited 
 to awake compassion ; the broad closed lids 
 arched so mysteriously over the eyes, r. faint 
 smile rested on the livid lips, she did not look 
 like a girl ; there was nothing human about 
 her. 
 
 Rufus harshly shouted to Metellus an order 
 which the latter, in the drowsiness caused by 
 his exhau ;Pon, did not hear. He turned as 
 if to fuhii it, toward the entrance, staggered 
 down -'H sr* ps into the open air, and before 
 he was aware of it again stood in the street. 
 
 80 
 
 a 
 
CHAPTI'.R IV 
 
 ROME had now awakfd ; her marble roofs 
 and lofty pillars were gleaming in the 
 radiant sunlight. Crowds were already surg- 
 ing to and fro among the booths, past the tall 
 houses with their tiny windows, around the 
 statues at the street corners, and through the 
 colonnades. The sumptuous buildings looked 
 down in silent majesty upon the throng. The 
 green foliage of trees broke the lines of the 
 arcades with its refreshing hue and offered 
 shade to the yawning idlers. Venders called 
 attention to their wares ; butchers offended the 
 nostrils of the passers-by with their quarters 
 of beef thickly covered with flies; bakers 
 pressed their fingers into their cakes to show 
 hungry customers their crispness ; cooks praised 
 their pease-puddings. Shepherds from the 
 surrounding country came in with their milk- 
 pails and chattered at the doors of the houses 
 with the mistresses. Metellus, while watching 
 the scene, was tempted on account of the 
 gnawing in his stomach to pay court to a 
 
^aj 
 
 'iU 
 
 %r^, 
 
 IMAGE EVALUATION 
 TEST TARGET (MT-3) 
 
 // 
 
 // 
 
 
 
 Q. 
 
 II 
 
 1.0 
 
 I.I 
 
 |50 '""^^ 
 
 us 
 
 2.5 
 
 2.2 
 
 lis ill M 
 
 IL25 i 1.4 
 
 1.6 
 
 <^ 
 
 ""h 
 
 ^ 
 
 '<3 
 
 
 'c» .V 
 
 'r> 
 
 /i 
 
 "% > 
 
 ^^.>>" /; 
 
 
 in 
 
 Phr»tnirrpo-r||-|| 
 
 Sciences 
 Corporation 
 
 23 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 
 
 (716) 872-4503 
 
 # 
 
 iV 
 
 N> 
 
 '^"^"^l^. t^'^ ^"^ 
 
 > 
 
 -r^O- 
 
 «? 
 
 "•i^ 
 
^ A 
 
 .V 
 
 .•^ 
 
 4^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 VV^< 
 
 <^ 
 
 
 ^ 
 
I ?' 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 young woman who was just taking the milk- 
 pail from a burly son of the mountains. In 
 his exhausted condition, he scarcely knew 
 what he was doing when he addressed her, in 
 the hop- of obtaining a cup of milk as a reward 
 for his flattery. Unaccustomed to woo, he 
 asked for a kiss awkwardly enough. 
 
 " What do you want ? " cried the wench. 
 "You are so beautiful," stammered the 
 starving man, pulling at his cloak. 
 
 " Am I ? " she cried. " Well, my friend, 
 you are as ugly as Achilles in woman's clothes. 
 By Orcus ! he smells of the distaff, and what 
 dainty little fingers he has. Go ; you are far 
 too delicate for me, you stupid Ganym.ede." 
 And she now began to berate him so vigorously 
 about his goatskin garment and his smooth, 
 beardless face that the sculptor retreated in 
 great embarrassment, without answering. The 
 grinning shepherd, who fairly reeked of the 
 stable, remained in full possession of his rights, 
 and instantly bestowed a resounding smack 
 upon the girl's mouth with his thick lips. 
 
 Metellus's sufferings soon grew unbearable; 
 his stomach urgently demanded food ; the noise 
 of the crowd sounded farther and farther away; 
 and a gray veil already dimmed his eyes. But 
 no one troubled himself about the pallia, tot- 
 
 82 
 
 I 
 
the milk- 
 aihs. In 
 ;ly knew 
 d her, in 
 a reward 
 woo, he 
 
 vench. 
 sred the 
 
 Y friend, 
 ; clothes, 
 nd what 
 u are far 
 ymede." 
 gorously 
 smooth, 
 2ated in 
 y. The 
 I of the 
 is rights, 
 ; smack 
 ps. 
 
 earable ; 
 he noise 
 It away ; 
 s. But 
 
 lie, tot- 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 terihg stranger ; even-body was occupied with 
 his own concerns. One pondered over his in- 
 teresting law case ; another thought of the rich 
 old aunt who must soon go down into the 
 nether world. This man was planning a 
 clever bit of cheating ; that one was consider- 
 ing how he could best overthrow Julia's virtue. 
 Many were perhaps in the clutches of the 
 usurers, while one was estimating the cost of 
 his new villa in Tibur ; school-children were 
 declining words under the direction of the lean 
 tutor; every person behaved as if he were the 
 only human being in the world and his cau'.e 
 were the most important, his neighbor was 
 heeded only just so far as he stood in his way. 
 Metellus stopped in front of a pillar and 
 heard, without paying attention, a portly citizen 
 reading aloud to a laughing group a pointed 
 epigram about Nero's "singing voice," which 
 had been scrawled upon the wall ; he heard a 
 snub-nosed crier promising a hundred denarii 
 to any one who brought back Senator M.'s 
 runaway slave. He saw a ragged sail'.)r, with 
 a piece of the ship in which he had been 
 wrecked in his hand, begging for alms, and a 
 cripple on the pavement stretching out his 
 withered arm or beating his sole companion, 
 that was starving with him, — his dog All 
 
 83 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 these things were heard and seen as if in a 
 dream ; the whole motley throng began to 
 whirl shrieking before his eyes ; the houses no 
 longer stood firmly ; the nymphs and the mar- 
 ble lions spouting water into the basins of the 
 fountains began to dance ; the fruit-seller's 
 donkey and the knight striding proudly along, 
 the grave Egyptian and the agile Greek, all 
 the various costumes and figures blended into 
 a thick mass, which was constantly stirred by 
 invisible hands. 
 
 The corpses which the poor fellow had just 
 beheld haunted his imagination ; unbearable 
 pain tortured his body ; he could scarcely think, 
 and dragged himself onward, his breast filled 
 with an emotion of self-pity. 
 
 " If I should fall now, what w-^'ild become of 
 me ? " With tears in his ey. e went up to 
 a fruit-dealer whose baskets were overflowing 
 with figs and bluish-green melons, but in spite 
 of his great need, he had not the courage to 
 ask the man for a gift. 
 
 A rich magistrate, reclining in a litter, was 
 borne along the street. The slaves walking 
 in front shouted : " Make way ; make way ; " 
 but Metellus was so dazed that he stood still, 
 and received in consequence a severe thrust in 
 the ribs from the sable Ethiopian. He no 
 
 84 
 
 f 
 
 i 
 
Is 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 longer possessed sufficient strength of will to 
 return the blow ; he scarcely knew that he had 
 been hit, and gazed after the satiated glutton, 
 who lolled comfortably on his crimson cushions, 
 holding a bunch of grapes to his lips and spit- 
 ting the skins into the faces of the passers-by. 
 " O gracious Jupiter, what am I to do ? " 
 murmured the starving youth. "I expected 
 something very different." 
 
 When a client, hurrying along in a shabby 
 toga, stepped heavily on his toe and hastened 
 on without an apology, he partially recovered 
 his consciousness ; the old spirit of defiance 
 awoke, and without pausing to reflect, he en- 
 tered the nea.est tavern. The courteous host 
 instantly appeared with his usual smile and his 
 fat bowed neck. "What can I set before 
 you ? " he asked, and Metellus called for wine 
 and common cheese. 
 
 " At once," said the host. It was a tavern 
 of the lowest sort. Rough wooden tables, 
 and a floor strewn with fragments of dishes, 
 sausage-skins, fruit-peels, and seeds. The 
 little stove at the entrance, used to prepare 
 warm dishes, filled the dark room, open to 
 the street, with thick black smoke, against 
 which the white robes of the guests glim- 
 mered like the shades in the darkness of the 
 
 8S 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 nether world. In front stood the counter, on 
 whose dirty marble top fruit, cheese, bread, 
 fish, wine-bottles, and plucked fowls lay in 
 confusion. The whole array produced the 
 impression of being composed of remnants 
 which kindly Ceres (she was painted on the 
 sign) had dropped from her horn of plenty. 
 Moreover, besides the noisy guests, there was 
 no lack of little stinging fellow occupants, which 
 instantly chose the sculptor's goatskin for their 
 wrestling ground. The poor youth rested his 
 head on his hand and summoned all the 
 strength of his will in order not to betray his 
 wf'ikness; to divert his thoughts he counted 
 the number of guests and scanned the rude 
 sign displayed above the counter. Perhaps 
 his pallor, his yearning gaze bestowed upon 
 his beauty a greater power of attraction than 
 the hue of health ; at least the Syrian slave- 
 girl who was now filling his goblet from He 
 wine-skin smiled at him most seductively. 
 
 " Refresh yourself, stranger," she said, press- 
 ing the neck of the wrinkled skin with her 
 white fingers. Metellus, without hearing her, 
 seized the cup and half emptied it. 
 
 " May Bacchus bless the drink to you ! " she 
 said, and Metellus, whose consciousness was 
 fully restored by the strong vintage, ruefully 
 
 86 
 
 I 
 
 
tl 
 
 she 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 reflected in his troubled mind that Bacchus 
 would hardly help him pay for the wine. 
 Soon the ever-smiling landlord appeared and 
 placed on the table a little rush basket filled 
 with cheeses, which he handled as though it 
 contained the most delicious dainties. 
 
 " Appease your hunger," he said pleasantly, 
 and when Metellus, sighing, seized one of 
 the yellow cheeses, the portly host patted his 
 shoulders, adding : "Don't sigh! What says 
 Horace of youth ? " Then he interrupted 
 himself: "Whence? Whither? If I may 
 venture to ask ? " 
 
 " I am from the provinces," said the youth. 
 
 " Aha ! Do you want to make your for- 
 tune in Rome ? That is well ! Always come 
 to Rome. Money grows from the paving 
 stones." 
 
 Metellus sighed again, but the fat landlord 
 went on, — 
 
 " Only don't neglect the women ; always 
 stick to the women. Courage, young man, 
 when I was your age — " Again he did not 
 finish the usual phrase, two soldiers called 
 him to another table. With cringing aflfabil- 
 ity he leaned his portly paunch over the 
 others, whispering into their ears all sorts of 
 jests about the rustic youth from the prov- 
 
 87 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 inces, who had certainly come to Rome to 
 be led by the nose by some old Senator's 
 widow. " The landlord is a good-natured man," 
 thought the artist, sipping the Falernian and 
 chewmg the greasy, loathsome cheese, which, 
 but for his excessive hunger, he would scarcely 
 have touched. " l^he host seems to mean 
 kmdly by me. " After he had thus regained 
 his mental composure, the boldness of his 
 undertaking weighed like a twofold burden 
 on his heart. Horrified at what he had 
 dared, he flung down his goblet without hear- 
 ing the words of the slave-woman who re- 
 filled it, for his mind was occupied solely 
 with imagining the consequences of his cheat- 
 ing. They will call the lictors, I shall be 
 in prison to-night, he thought, gazing at the 
 jovial face of the landlo ', who as yet had 
 no suspicion that — or hud he an idea of the 
 baseness of his guest, did he not sometimes 
 glance suspiciously at him? Metellus, you 
 are on the point of becoming a vagabond : to 
 eat, drink, and not pay ! 
 
 The honest fellow sufl^bred inexpressibly 
 from these ideas ; it was the first act of fraud 
 which he had ever committed, committed in 
 desperation, and in desperation he drank more 
 and more Falernian, which instantly worked 
 
 88 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 upon his empty stomach and used the oppor- 
 tunity to fire his heated brain. His cheeks 
 flushed, his gloomy visions gradually receded; 
 brighter ones entered his mind, and, all at once, 
 he could not understand why the world was 
 suffused with so roseate a light. The burden 
 that had weighed so heavily on his shoulders 
 half an hour before suddenly became as light 
 as a feather, the landlord was a fool, money the 
 most superfluous thing in the world, inability 
 to pay a jest. 
 
 Several guests sat down near him, and, glad 
 to relieve his heart, he entered into conversa- 
 tion with them. With the spirit of contradic- 
 tion that so often takes possession of the 
 gentlest nature when it feels in its veins the 
 power of Bacchus, he had some criticism upon 
 every remark uttered by the drinkers. Or^ 
 of the men who were present, a thin linen^ 
 weaver, was relating what he had heard from 
 his neighbor, the squint-eyed baker Ntevius, 
 concerning Nero's relations with his wife 
 Octavia. 
 
 On the whole, people were satisfied with the 
 government, — only the great had suflTered from 
 tyranny; the rest received bread and games, 
 and sometimes did not grudge the aristocrats 
 the humiliations and fears the sovereign in- 
 
 89 
 
V: 
 
 Ui 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 flicted upon them. Of course the linen-weaver 
 did not know where the baker obtained his 
 news, but it was certain that yesterday the 
 Caesar had beaten his beautiful young wife with 
 his own august hands. All Rome pitied the 
 gentle Empress, who was only nineteen years 
 old ; Nero did not dare to divorce her, because 
 he feared the voice of the people ; others raised 
 objections, protesting that Octavia had deserved 
 this treatment from the Emperor. 
 
 "Not so loud," interrupted the landlord; 
 "you know that we are never safe from spies." 
 
 " Still worse tales are told in my quarter of 
 ■the city," whispered a tanner; "they say the 
 Caesar treats Octavia like a prisoner — starves 
 her." 
 
 " And what reasons should he have ? " began 
 Metellus, loudly ; then as " hush ! " was ut- 
 tered on all sides, he finished the sentence in a 
 low tone — " for such condvict ? " 
 
 No one could give a reason, and the artist, 
 excited by wine, eagerly upheld Nero, while 
 the rest, smiling, listened in silence. 
 
 " Do you know Octavia personally ? Have 
 you permission to enter the Caesar's apart- 
 ments ? Gossip, city gossip ! " he cried, " you 
 hatch it in your cobbler-shops. I don't believe 
 a word of it ! " 
 
 90 
 
 ik £i 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 I artist, 
 , while 
 
 The enthusiast was allowed to talk on, and 
 the others passed to different subjects. The 
 circus stallion "Helios" was subjected to a 
 rigid criticism, and they discussed the question 
 whether he had reached the goal two or three 
 feet m advance of " Cleopatra " as if the exis- 
 tence of the empire was at stake ; Lucan's last 
 pantomime, « Paris and Helen," was praised, 
 certain airs from this work, certainly not the 
 most seemly, were sung. It was said that rain 
 had fallen in Egypt, and the news that the 
 gladiator Claudius had died of his wounds was 
 told with expressions of regret. Metellus 
 asked whether Lucan's last epic was published ; 
 the poet was very much praised, he was even 
 said to have aroused Nero's jealousy. 
 
 " A splendid fellow," interrupted a dwarfish 
 sandal-maker; "what a giant! Such endu- 
 rance, such changes, such buoyancy when he 
 warms up, such a r:,j " 
 
 " He is said to command a very graceful 
 style of verse," interrupted the sculptor, over- 
 joyed at this appreciation of art. 
 
 " What ! Style of verse ! I 'm talking about 
 the gladiator," said the sandal-dealer, glancing 
 contemptuously at the artist, « with his epic." 
 
 " I did not have the pleasure of knowing the 
 gladiator," retorted Metellus, dryly. 
 
 91 
 
Err press Octavia 
 
 J f 
 
 "You ought to have seen him bleed," said a 
 peaceful-looking joiner's apprentice; "it was 
 magnificent when he received the thrust in his 
 breast without the quiver of an eyelash." 
 
 "And how the other slowly drew the red- 
 dened steel from the gaping wound," observed 
 a fat fruit-dealer; " oh, I shall never forget it. 
 The white, muscular body dripped with the 
 red life-fluid like a crushed mulberry." 
 
 " And how gracefully he sank ! " cried a 
 third, enthusiastically. 
 
 " Ah ! But we Romans were gentle," re- 
 plied the fruit-dealer, "we pardoned him." 
 Metellus inquired about Seneca's last work. 
 No one could tell him anything of it, they 
 knew only his name ; but they could inform 
 him just how many Christians had been torn 
 by the lion " Hercules " the day before. The 
 sculptor asked a question about Amulius's last 
 picture, but no one had heard of the man, 
 though they told him, as a piece of very im- 
 portant news, that the cook Thrasycles had in- 
 vented a new kind of fruit pasty. Some of the 
 fat fruit-dealer's cleverest equivocal sayings 
 made the young artist blush so painfully, in- 
 wardly and outwardly, that he determined to 
 give the conversation a different turn. 
 
 " Have n't you anything more sensible to 
 
 92 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 ," said a 
 "it was 
 St in his 
 
 the rcd- 
 )hscrvccl 
 jrget it. 
 vith the 
 
 cried a 
 
 le, re- 
 him." 
 It work. 
 it, they 
 inform 
 in torn 
 . The 
 is's last 
 e man, 
 sry im- 
 had in- 
 : of the 
 sayings 
 lly, in- 
 ned to 
 
 ible to 
 
 say ? " he cried. " C 
 
 do I 
 
 ircusstallions, pasties, what 
 
 care about them ? Now hsten I 
 
 'II tell 
 
 you a nocturnal adventure which perhaps wil. 
 sint your taste. This is a beautiful Rome, 
 your Rome by nicht." Then, with vivacious 
 prohx.ty, the artist described his adventure 
 w th the d.sgu.sed company of gods, which has 
 already been related. The imaginative fellow 
 was so deeply absorbed in his dramatic repro- 
 duction of the fighting scene, that he did not 
 notice the fruit-dealer, who was scratching his 
 head in astonishment, the tanner, who forgot to 
 dnnk, or the cabinet-maker, who was moving 
 restlessly m his chair. The landlord came 
 ghd.ng up, and the whole company gradually 
 showed a singular, very unusual interest ■ 
 
 "Yes," said Metellus, ending his story with 
 a laugh, " I spoiled Apollo's sport thoroughly. 
 I dealt hmi such a blow with his lyre on his 
 divine nose, that he 'II carry an Olympian blue 
 mark on it at least a week." 
 
 "What!" exclaimed the horrified tanner, 
 
 you struck him — in the face — " 
 
 "Certainly!" replied our friend, laughing, 
 
 I struck him. Did n't he deserve it ' Is 
 
 one to submit good-naturedly to such midnight 
 
 assaults ? ° 
 
 The tavern-keeper tried to speak, but in a 
 
 93 
 

 if: 
 
 I, J 
 I- 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 fright which made his face 1 
 
 ivici, could only 
 
 gasp : " Is it possible, sir ! Struck him ! 
 
 "And how did you say that this Apollo 
 looked ? " asked the sandal-maker, timidly 
 "Was he tall — ?" 
 
 ^Tall 
 
 (( 
 
 Slightly inclined to corpulence 
 
 ligntly mclii 
 " To be sure." 
 " Were his limbs somewhat like a woman's ? " 
 " Yes. There was something mushy in his 
 face — but I don't understand your excite- 
 ment — tell me — " 
 
 "A broad neck, reddish hair? " 
 
 " Exactly." 
 
 "And he was the leader of the band? " 
 
 " The leader," replied Metellus. 
 
 " It was no other, by Pluto ! " panted the 
 little cobbler, nodding to his companions in 
 terror. 
 
 " It is he, it was he. That is his favorite 
 disguise," said the cabinet-maker, rising noise- 
 lessly from his chair. « I remember that I 
 must go home, Milo the centurion is waiting 
 for his broken table." 
 
 Every one suddenly remembered that urgent 
 business awaited him at home. All who were 
 present had turned toward the speaker at the 
 commencement of his tale; now most of them 
 
 94 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 hastily emptied their wine-cups, paid their 
 score and ,nade off with frightened faces. 
 The tanner also rose, the rest of the group 
 at the table followed his example ; some re- 
 pressed a smile of superiority, the cabinet- 
 maker uttered an audible, "Ass'" the 
 sandal-maker muttered something about 
 stupid provmcials who endangered the lives 
 of peaceful citizens. 'he whole tavern was 
 suddenly emptied of guests. Metellus did 
 not know what to think of this flight ; he sat 
 as If m a dream, staring after the guests and 
 wondermg whether he or they had suddenly 
 lost their reason. ^ 
 
 ■" Begone, you dogs," shouted the landlord to 
 his s aves, "why are you standing about here ' " 
 
 |he slaves had been staring at the speaker 
 with dilated eyes, and did not stir until their 
 master had favored them with several kicks 
 I hen, with eyes sparkling with rage, he turned 
 to Metellus. 
 
 " Well ? And you ? " he shouted, " you who 
 dnve away my customers, must I put you out 
 of^jie door by force, or will you use your 
 
 "But in the name of Zeus the omnipo- 
 
 leTst-"'^''" ''"'P'°'' "'"" "^^ ^^ 
 
 95 
 

 u- 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 "Begone!" shouted the landlord, scarcely 
 able to control himself, "begone " 
 
 Metellus rose timidly, fingering, as was his 
 habit when excited, the shaggy hair of his 
 goatskin garment. 
 
 " I am sorry I cannot pay you," he stam- 
 mered blushmg, "write down my score, I will 
 work, I will — " 
 
 " Begone ! " raved the other without listen- 
 ing, grasping him by the shoulder, "do you 
 suppose I want to have my custom spoiled ? " 
 He pushed the poor youth who, in his be- 
 wilderment, submitted to everything, into the 
 street. On reaching it, he thanked the gods 
 that the landlord, in his excitement, had for- 
 gotten to press for payment of his account. 
 This happy certainty at first drove all other 
 painful emotions out of his heart. 
 
 " What can I have done that they all ran 
 away from me as if I were a leper," he pon- 
 dered ; « these Romans are really just like 
 children. 
 
 He was already beginning, according to his 
 habit, to regard what he had experienced in a 
 merry light when, in the midst of the crowd 
 a voice whispered in his ear : " Fly, you are 
 lost!" He turned and thought he saw the 
 end of the little sandal-maker's robe just 
 
 96 
 
scarcely 
 
 was his 
 r of his 
 
 le stam- 
 e, I will 
 
 t listen- 
 do you 
 )iled ? " 
 his be- 
 nto the 
 he gods 
 lad for- 
 iccount. 
 1 other 
 
 all ran 
 le pon- 
 st like 
 
 to his 
 ;d in a 
 crowd, 
 ou are 
 iw the 
 e just 
 
 4 } 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 vanishing behind a portly matron. « I sha'n't 
 fare quite so badly ; Zeus won't permit an hon- 
 est sculptor to be ruined," thought Metellus 
 strolhng toward his lodgings, which were be 
 
 . T^ere were so many new things to be seen 
 
 -the streets , hat he had no timf to listen o 
 the voice of the monitor. The colors of the 
 Babylonian carpets, the gems, the metal 
 vessels from Greece, the aLic' slaves, wto 
 
 mmd. Now that his physical needs were sup- 
 plied, he began to appreciate the architectural 
 magn,fi e of Rome. The colonnades el - 
 cited exclamations of admiration as he saw them 
 in quiet majesty hfting the superb roofs heaven- 
 ward ; the marble forms that looked down so 
 
 belo^ ^Z t"" P'^'^^'^^ "P°" '^' throngs 
 below filled his soul with a rapture of beauty- 
 
 he could scarcely tear himself away from the 
 statue of a dying warrior : the submissive ex- 
 pression, the dignified bearing of the wounded 
 man attracted him again and again. And above 
 all this wealthy Rome was throned, hke an 
 image of Olympus, the temple-crowned Capi- 
 tol, shaming the skies with the glitter of its 
 i^arble. It rose like an ever present thought 
 
 97 
 
 I 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 of divinity whenever tlie eyes were raised from 
 the dark streets ; its gigantic staircase seemed 
 like the ascent from the heavy atmosphere of 
 earth to shining heights. 
 
 The artist, with the glad surprise of a child 
 illumining his handsome face, walked past the 
 magnificent shops of the Septa Julia, the halls 
 and temples. As he approached the Forum 
 his way led by the temple of Jupiter Stator, 
 and he stood still as if enraptured before 
 the majestic beauty of the facade. A richly 
 adorned litter, which seemed to be waiting for 
 some very aristocratic nobleman, was at the 
 foot of the marble stairs. The numerous 
 slaves had seated themselves comfortably on 
 the steps, where they were playing dice. The 
 contrast could scarcely be greater : noble pillars 
 which raised the gabled roof filled with images 
 of the gods nearer to the sky, and below upon 
 this staircase inspiring, by its sublimity, thoughts 
 of devotion, vulgar every-day life, drinking, 
 gossiping, dice-playing slaves. The gate was 
 opened ; within the cool interior of the temple 
 Jupiter concealed himself; half hidden by the 
 dusk, his white limbs seemed slumbering 
 beneath a blue veil. 
 
 Metellus's piety awoke ; he entered the 
 sanctuary, and as, instead of the brilliant sun- 
 
 98 
 
 t 
 e 
 b 
 
ed from 
 
 seemed 
 
 )here of 
 
 ' a child 
 past the 
 :he halls 
 
 Forum 
 
 Stator, 
 
 before 
 
 i richly 
 
 ting for 
 
 at the 
 mierous 
 ably on 
 ;. The 
 e pillars 
 
 images 
 w upon 
 [loughts 
 rinking, 
 ate was 
 
 temple 
 I by the 
 nbering 
 
 ed the 
 
 mt sun- 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 light, the suldued magnificence, the con- 
 secrated dusk of the temple surrounded him, 
 he could scarcely restrain his tears. No one 
 was visible, silence reigned. A light bluish 
 mist rose trom the altar, hovering in graceful 
 curves around the brow of Jove. The noise 
 from the street sounded like the distant surg- 
 ing of the sea ; a few sparks glimmered on the 
 altar, at last the fire died out entirely. The 
 sculptor wished to kneel in prayer, but could 
 
 instead of holy emotions, the image of the 
 dead youth for whom, without suspecting it 
 his soul was mourning, rose before him, and 
 he resolved to leave the temple. 
 
 Rising from the floor he saw behind him a 
 woman who was gazing with an expression of 
 anguish up to the countenance of the god. 
 Metellus involuntarily stood still. The lips 
 parted as if to utter a cry of pain, the red- 
 dened tear-stamed eyes, the trembling fingers 
 convulsively clasping each other, - all afforded 
 him a keen artistic pleasure that stirred his 
 tender heart. 
 
 Before the door the slaves were quarrelling; 
 their harsh voices awakened reverberating 
 echoes as if the sanctuary, incensed, wished to 
 bid the wranglers keep silence. Outside the 
 
 99 
 
if'***'' 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 world was surging and seething, here solitary 
 grief knelt before Zeus, moving its lips in 
 mute petitions. Metellus fairly held his 
 breath, fearing to be noticed by the sorrow- 
 ing woman. He felt as if some secret emotion 
 constrained him to reflect, as it were, her ex- 
 pression of suffering in his own features ; he, 
 too, opened his lips, just as she was doing, 
 and gazed with childlike curiosity into the 
 beautiful, pallid face. At last she rose ; 
 Metellus shrank back, but she had already 
 met his eyes, overflowing with compassion. 
 At first a cloud of anger darkened her brow, 
 but when she met the youth's embarrassed 
 beseeching glance, she blushed, drew her robe 
 over her face, and slowly left the temple. 
 Outside shouts of command and retreating 
 footsteps were heard. Hitherto Metellus had 
 paid little heed to female beauty : the more 
 rugged outlines of the masculine form had 
 seemed to him a worthier subject of artistic 
 representation ; friendship was more to him 
 than love ; now for the first time a fleeting 
 suspicion of what love was, or might be, rose 
 in his mind, and, as he felt with astonishment, 
 supplanted the image of the dead youth which, 
 hitherto, had moved beside him like a mourn- 
 ful shadow. A faint yearning to yield to it 
 
 lOO 
 
solitary 
 lips in 
 eld his 
 sorrow- 
 emotion 
 her ex- 
 res ; he, 
 ; doing, 
 nto the 
 I rose ; 
 already 
 passion. 
 :r brow, 
 arrassed 
 ler robe 
 temple, 
 ^treating 
 llus had 
 le more 
 rm had 
 ' artistic 
 to him 
 fleeting 
 be, rose 
 shment, 
 h which, 
 mourn- 
 ed to It 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 stole over him, the thought of an inexpressible 
 joy assailed him, and he told himself that to 
 be loved by a woman with deep, womanly 
 passion must be a wonderful, rapturous thin/ 
 something very different from friendship, dis- 
 turbing, torturing in the midst of its ecstasy 
 
 liut these feelings vanished when he left the 
 temple ; he smiled at his strange visions and 
 strove to sustain his former scorn of women. 
 As, while absorbed in thought, he had com- 
 pletely lost his way, he ventured to ask it of 
 a barber who stood in front of his shop 
 shaving a portly merchant. The man grace- 
 . fully moved his razor over the plump cheeks 
 of his customer, who leaned back comfortably 
 in his chair, and without interrupting his im- 
 portant business, gave his advice to the stranger 
 So you want to go to the Tiber district? "* 
 itn from the voluble speaker's lips. « Yes ' 
 1 hat s a fine neighborhood. There are a 
 great many Jews, and the houses are said to 
 be very dilapidated ; one of them fell in ruins 
 a week ago But you can live cheaply there 
 if you don t mind stairs. The rooms are un- 
 fornished, or at most have only a few bugs. 
 Will you please turn your head a little toward 
 the nght, Crassus? " he said, interrupting him- 
 self, "there, that's just right -so you want 
 
 lOI 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 to go to the Tiber district, my friend ? Yes, 
 wait a minute, I can describe it to you best in 
 this way — Narcissus, the salve, the depilatory 
 salve ! The African dog does n't hear again." 
 These words were addressed to an Ethiopian 
 who was brushing the hair of a curly-headed 
 boy at the back of the shop. 'I'he officious 
 barber had just seen his daily customer, the 
 young dandy, Mummius, joming down the 
 mxt street. The fop, who always had to be 
 served at once, approached, redolent of per- 
 fume, with his locks artificially curled, and 
 called for pumice-s;one and depilatory salve 
 to keep his arms smooth. 
 
 " How are you, my lord ? " said the barber, 
 respectfully; "you look as fresh as a young 
 plum, though a trifle pale — aha! Is my 
 guess right — you were at Consul Piso's ban- 
 quet yesterday evening?" 
 
 " What do you know about it ?" murmured 
 the dandy, contemptuously, but the barber did 
 not allow himself to be disconcerted. 
 
 " Some entirely new salves have just come 
 from Babylon," he said. " May I show them 
 to you ? Oh, their perfume, their perfume ! 
 Nectar is dung by comparison." 
 
 The fine gentleman received the barber's 
 humble attentions with dull indifference, mean- 
 
 103 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 while staring steadily at the artist to disturb 
 his composure, in which he succeeded. At 
 last he sat down and gazed at Metellus with 
 a look which said plainly: What is that dolt 
 doing here? The sculptor, irritated by the 
 expression, now determined not to go at once, 
 and answered the haughty gaze with one still 
 more disdainful until the coxcomb averted his 
 eyes. 
 
 " Have n't you any news of what is going 
 on in the city, Junius? " asked the dandy. 
 
 " Nothing that I can think of just now," 
 said the barber, thoughtfully, rubbing the fat 
 merchant's head with both hands. 
 
 " What insolence not to have any news 
 when I come," cried Mummius, in genuine 
 wrath. " I '11 give you two stories with which 
 you can entertain your customers, you stupid 
 man." 
 
 " Oh, pray tell us quickly," said the barber. 
 "First order your slave to cut his nails," 
 replied the young aristocrat ; " he scratches my 
 skin in rubbing me. Take the brush, rascal, 
 and dab my chin. Gently, gently, do you 
 hear? But what does this mean, the fellow is 
 using a salve which he knows I detest," he 
 exclaimed in the utmost indignation. The 
 slave pleaded in excuse that he had made a 
 
 103 
 
^;i 
 
 h i 
 
 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 mistake in tlie box, but nevertheless received 
 a kick. Metellus, who was in the act of going, 
 made a pretence of examining the salve boxes' 
 as if he intended to purchase one, by way of an 
 excuse for remaining longer. Then after the 
 right salve had been found, the dandy leaned 
 back in his chair and ordered the slave to rub 
 every hair off his chin and arms between two 
 pumice-stones, during which process he often 
 interrupted his story with an oath or a sigh 
 when, through negligence, his tender skin was 
 pinched. 
 
 "Just think what a joke," Mummius began 
 in a listless tone, " the pedagogue Nigrinus was 
 our guest last evening. His office is to rear 
 the Consul's children and to teach them the 
 precepts of the Stoics. He declaimed with 
 dignity and feeling against the increasing lux- 
 ury in food and drink. We agreed with him 
 in bewailing the drinking and stuffing, but 
 thrust one goblet after another under his gray 
 beard. This 'poison of mankind' as he 
 chose to call wine, proved so irresistible that at 
 last he could utter his maxims of wisdom only 
 with a faltering tongue. One of the girl flute- 
 players with whom Pompeius, the tribune of 
 the legion, was flirting, had fallen asleep on the 
 cushions, and I played the trick — I can't help 
 
 104 
 
 n 
 
 ill 
 
k 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 laughing now when I think of it— of tying 
 the worthy tutor's long beard to the flute- 
 player's curls. When the teacher of virtue 
 closed his eyes, he sank, without noticing it, on 
 the beauty's breast and, when the latter woke, 
 you ought to have seen with what fury she 
 beat the snoring man when she found that she 
 was fastened to him." 
 
 The barber laughed immoderately. " He 
 can train his boys to be worthy Romans," he 
 said, and eagerly lauded the inventive talent of 
 his customer. Metellus marvelled equally at 
 the dandy's jest and the laughing barber. 
 I' Well ? And Nigrinus? " asked the latter. 
 "The blows afl^ected his stomach," replied 
 the coxcomb; "his food and drink were ejected; 
 we ordered the slaves to carry him out of the' 
 hall, but he clung shrieking to the flute-player." 
 " Magnificent I Will you permit me to re- 
 peat the story? And now for your second 
 piece of news ? " asked the obsequious barber. 
 
 " My second piece of news is this," replied 
 the other, yawning. « Nero was beaten last 
 night." 
 
 "Nero? The Caesar?" stammered the 
 barber; and the fat merchant turned his head 
 in astonishment, which nearly cost him his 
 life as the blade of the razor was at his throat. 
 
 I OS 
 
 m 
 
»^ 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 Metellus put down a salve-box he was exam- 
 ining and felt disagreeably affected by the news, 
 he did not know why. 
 
 "How did it happen?" asked the hair- 
 dresser, now really interested. " Nero ? 
 Beaten ? Oh, pray tell me about it, my lord." 
 
 "You know that Nero likes to wander 
 through the streets of Rome as soon as night 
 closes in?" said the fop in a drowsy tone, 
 which betrayed the wine he had drunk the 
 evening before. 
 
 " Of course ! " replied the barber. " The 
 divine Caesar ^s fond of disguising himself 
 and playing his pranks upon the citizens he 
 meets." 
 
 " Which are often very rough ones," laughed 
 the dandy. " A short time ago he tossed in a 
 blanket a distinguished poet, who was return- 
 ing from his patron's banquet ; a week ago he 
 had a lover stripped of his clothing and tied to 
 the door of his sweetheart's house ; a certain 
 Flaccus, who had disappeared, wuo ionnd dead 
 in the cloacae" — Here the g n*]v n,:*, inter- 
 rupted himself, groaning, and violently cuffed 
 the slave, who had accidentally rubbed the salve 
 into his mouth instead of on his upper lip. 
 
 " Do you suppose you must feed me ? " 
 puiied and panted the angry man, spitting the 
 
 io6 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 salve from his mouth ; " fie, how it tastes ! like 
 the harpies' mire; water, bring me water, I 'm 
 choking ! " 
 
 The barber rushed forward, beat the slave 
 about the ears with his towel, and cleansed his 
 customer's mouth, offering at the same time 
 a thousand apologies. 
 
 " You moved your head," he stammered ; 
 "the dog did not notice it— will you never 
 learn dexterity, you black beast? — oh, pray, 
 my lord, calm yourself— it was the very best 
 of salve, made of oil of roses, myrrh, laurel, 
 nothmg but the choicest ingredients. Pray go 
 on, tell us more of the story, don't keep us 
 waitmg. You talk so well, my lord, Virgil's 
 verses do not flow more smoothly." 
 
 The slave stood trembling. Metellus desired 
 nothmg more ardently than to hear the contin- 
 uation of the story of Nero's beating — Was it 
 possible? Had the gods determined to de- 
 stroy him? Had his hand unintentionally — 
 Was the enigma of the flight of his boon com- 
 pamons explained ? Anxious forebodings were 
 begmning to oppress his soul. Meanwhile 
 Mummius's mouth was washed and cleansed. 
 
 "Oh, priy go on, my lord," urged the 
 barber, who could no longer restrain his 
 curiosity. 
 
 107 
 

 % 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 " How is it possible, how can a mortal lay 
 hands on the Caesar — true, the Cresar often 
 deals very roughly with his victims, but is it 
 not an honor to be beaten by the imperial 
 hand, to be spit upon by the imperial mouth ? 
 Who would not submit and praise the eods 
 for it?" ^ 
 
 "We Romans, it is true, have long been 
 accustomed to regard the insults inflicted upon 
 us by the throne as a favor," said the coxcomb, 
 grinning ; « but in the provinces there are still a 
 few simpletons who will not perceive what an 
 inexpressible honor is bestowed upon them 
 when they are belabored by the Cesar's fists 
 and flung into the cloaca." 
 ^ "True, true, there are many simpletons," 
 sighed the barber, dusting the portly merchant. 
 " So a provincial dared to attack Nero ?" 
 
 " He is said to have given him a severe 
 blow on the nose," answered Mummius. 
 
 " The nose ? " asked the barber, " the nose, 
 which lends the face its dignity ? Well, if this 
 provincial is caught, his nose will be 'driven 
 into his insolent face with hammers. Oh, ye 
 gods ! To bruise Nero's divine nose ! " 
 
 Metellus who, had it been possible, would 
 have listened to this conversation with more 
 than his two ears, could no longer, in his 
 
 1 08 
 
fists 
 
 % 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 anxiety, play a silent part in the barber's shop. 
 Though terror almost paralyzed his tongue, he 
 asked — to obtain certainty — in what disguise 
 Nero had wandered through the streets on 
 this occasion. Every one turned toward the 
 speaker, who had so abruptly broken in upon 
 the conversation without cause, and it did not 
 escape the attention of Metellus that they 
 noticed his agitation and pallor. Turning 
 away, he pretended to watch the throng pass- 
 ing in the street. A pause ensued. 
 
 " Stranger," said Mummius at last, scanning 
 him intently, " Nero's favorite disguise is to 
 wear the mask of Apollo." 
 
 Another pause followed. Metellus's eyes 
 were fixed in a glassy stare upon the floor ; he 
 saw what he had done, the gods had evidently 
 determined to destroy him, he had insulted the 
 Masterof the World, struck him, though unin- 
 tentionally, with his own hand. What should 
 he do now? Fly? Implore Nero to have 
 mercy ? The youth's knees began to totter, 
 perspiration oozed from every pore, he leaned 
 against the wall, it seemed as if the room must 
 fall in upon him. At last he succeeded in 
 conquering his excitement. 
 
 " Ah, h'm ! " he said carelessly, approaching 
 the door, " I am indebted to you." 
 
 109 
 
 41 
 
 iiil 
 
 US' 
 
ii ! 
 
 i I 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 Flushing deeply, he noticed that the dandy- 
 whispered something to the barber, to which 
 the other answered in a low tone : " That 
 would surely be doing the Caesar a service." 
 Then, as he reeled out of the shop with the 
 hurry of desperation, he fancied that some one 
 behind him was calling for a lictor. 
 
 Ji 
 
 .1 
 
 no 
 
dandy 
 > which 
 
 " That 
 irvice." 
 ith the 
 me one 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 TN Nero's palace, whose entrance was upon 
 1 the Via Sacra, it was still almost as silent 
 as if night had not passed away, though the 
 sun, for the last four hours, had gilded the 
 Cassar's statue, whose laurel-crowned head 
 towered aloft in the central courtyard. No 
 sounds from the streets desecrated these halls 
 and corridors ; the courtiers who were waiting 
 in the ante-rooms scarcely dared to whisper, 
 the slaves who were preparing the early meal 
 ghded timidly over the inlaid marble floors; 
 the palace guards who, with spears resting on 
 their bare arms, paced gravely to and fro 
 before the tapestried doorways, were on the 
 watch to prevent any loud word from disturb- 
 ing the Emperor's divine sleep. 
 
 Every stone, every pillar, every ornament 
 expressed power and splendor; the urns on 
 the walls of the ante-rooms, the benches in the 
 corners of the dining-halls, the portraits, the 
 statues in the dusk of the tablinum, seemed to 
 refer to the man who was still sleeping behind 
 
 III 
 
 ■m 
 
 .Hi' 
 
 Hi 
 

 m 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 the magnificent Babylonian hangings of his 
 chamber; the jet of water pouring from the 
 cornucopia of the Neptune in the atrium talked 
 only of him in whose hand the universe rested 
 as a toy ; the dancing fauns on the walls, the 
 nymphs on the floor, the masks on the ceilings, 
 appeared to speak solely of him, the creator of 
 this magnificence. The blue morning sky 
 scarcely dared to look down through the open 
 roof to mirror itself in the rain-basin of the 
 peristyle and lend the marble its glittering 
 smoothness. The gods were not more hon- 
 ored, more dreaded, than he who still lay 
 asleep on the purple cushions of his lion-footed 
 couch. Those who wished to pay the Cssar 
 a morning call had already gathered in the 
 atrium, whose walls and ceiling glowed with 
 frescoes and glittered with gilding. A slave, 
 carrying a tablet, went from one to another to 
 take down the names, but the Senators and 
 patricians looked as if they had assembled to 
 attend a funeral rather than to pay a morning 
 call. 
 
 A soldier — the Jew Rufus — was pacing 
 up and down on guard at the back of the 
 atrium where a curtain separated it from the 
 tablinum. He gazed respectfully at the nobles 
 who were talking together in whispers or glanced 
 
 112 
 
 , 4 
 ,t 
 
 i 
 
} 
 
 I 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 watchfully around, concealing their uncomfort- 
 able feehng of anxiety. And who among 
 these knights and Senators whose togas were 
 reflected m the polished marble floor, as if 
 they were standing in water; who among these 
 clever flatterers, striving so eagerly to force a 
 smile of devotion; who among these often 
 envied courtiers is sure of the ruler's favor? 
 VVho could say that the thunderbolt of dis- 
 pleasure might not threaten him this very day? 
 Is it worth while to have togas rustle over the 
 mosaic floors of the imperial halls, to be per- 
 mitted to touch the statues in the imperial 
 atrium, and cool the ambitious brow in the 
 silvery spray that blows from the fountain 
 through these apartments, if one dare not 
 say for a single moment: I can -hink what I 
 please, I am sure of my life! The splendor 
 everywhere visible on walls and ceilings seemed 
 like a mockery to the trembling friends of the 
 greatest of earthly sovereigns. The cold smiles 
 ot the statues mocked their peril, their brilliant 
 misery. 
 
 Rufus looked up at the square patch of sky 
 which laughed through the ceiling of the room 
 A dove was hovering in the infinite azure, its 
 white plumage mirrored in the impluvium. 
 Rufus sighed heavily as he saw the flittn.a 
 
 113 "^ 
 
 k \ 1 
 
 \ I 1 
 
 .iil 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 dove, the symbol of liberty, above the golden 
 prison; but the splendor had intoxicated him 
 also. He envied the trembling patricians who 
 concealed hearts throbbing with anxiety be- 
 neath purple-bordered togas. His soul knelt 
 before the magnificence surrounding him ; 
 every stone on which he stood seemed worthy 
 of adoration, and the proud, independent man, 
 though convinced of the transitoriness of all 
 earthly grandeur, scarcely dared to breathe; 
 he would have changed places with the cour- 
 tiers, though he knew that the executioner's 
 sword already hovered over several of them. 
 The waiting patricians stood in different groups. 
 The bearded Burrus was near the entrance. 
 His friend Seneca approached him, and both 
 were soon engaged in conversatibn. 
 
 " How times have changed," said Burrus, 
 the captain of the guard, to Seneca. " How 
 differently Nero formerly received his friends. 
 I fear that ".-j Romans will yet see the day 
 when we shall tremble before him as we once 
 did before Caligula, and that the lusts and 
 horrors of a Tiberius will again become ter- 
 rible to the world in my former pupil." 
 
 " Who can look into the future ? Who can 
 anticipate the blows of a beast's paws?" said 
 the sage, with drooping head. " I never liked 
 
 114 
 
 
^e golden 
 :ated him 
 :ians who 
 xiety be- 
 oul knelt 
 ig him ; 
 d worthy 
 lent man, 
 ;ss of all 
 breathe ; 
 :he cour- 
 :utioner's 
 of them, 
 t groups, 
 entrance, 
 nd both 
 
 Burrus, 
 "How 
 friends, 
 the day 
 we once 
 ists and 
 )me ter- 
 
 Vho can 
 1?" said 
 er liked 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 
 he Caesar s afFab.l.ty. I foresaw the sleeping 
 tyrant in h,s arnficial smile. Hitherto, he haf 
 known how to wear the mask of gentleness 
 w,th tolerable skill; the light column'of sCk 
 St 1 adorns Vesuvms, but a distant peal of 
 thunder ,s announcmg the approaching erup- 
 
 hZ ^,^ '"?'''<. "'' *=''"™' "i*""' concealing 
 h.mself as he formerly did," Burrus went on 
 under h,s breath. "He often falls into the 
 most funous fits of passion in his mother's 
 presence, and, in abusing the gentle Octavia 
 defies her wishes." ' 
 
 "The death of Britannicus is a settled matter 
 ■n Neros mmd," said Seneca. "He would 
 d.vorce his wife as quickly as possib e," he 
 were not compelled to fear the populace; and 
 I am afraid that the cloaca could already tell 
 of many a shameful deed performed under 
 cover of the night." 
 
 "He darkens hi-^ good works," Burrus 
 went on. « and makes himself a laughing-stoTk 
 w.th h,s wretched singing; I J,i, ^Cw. 
 h.s wr,tmg poetry, but to appear in pubHc 
 would d,sgrace the whole empire', and I Cow 
 from h,s own hps that he is thinking seriously 
 
 lieve m' ."k '°"''^. °"'y *^^"'''^ him. Be- 
 heve me, I have often watched him when he 
 
 
^-,.-un -s.'wav.a i^s^v-a .-ar 
 
 If ' 
 
 fi ^ 
 ill 1 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 sat in the Circus watching the gladiators, the 
 dying, and his expression revealed his whole 
 soul. It is the gaze of the young tiger, accus- 
 toming himself to blood." 
 
 "And only waiting for the opportunity to 
 shed it," whispered Seneca, hut interrupted 
 himself and silenced Burrus by a glance, for 
 the slave with the tablet had approached to 
 write the names of several men who were 
 strangers to him. 
 
 " Did the Caesar have a refreshing sleep ? " 
 asked Seneca, smiling. 
 
 " The Emperor is still resting," answered the 
 slave, hurrying on. 
 
 " Beware of speaking too loud," warned 
 the philosopher; "there is always one more 
 informer than we expect. For instance, I do 
 not trust the handsome actor yonder, Bathyl- 
 lus, though he always inquires about my last 
 philosophical essays. See how he watches us ! " 
 Burrus's harsh tones had really attracted the 
 attention of the group standing by the implu- 
 vium ; their eyes were turned toward the pair. 
 " Unfortunately," replied Burrus, " matters 
 have reached a point when our opinions of 
 things must be expressed by silence rather 
 than speech. That dissolute actor, and yon- 
 der zither-player Terpuus are the Cssar's 
 
 ii6 
 
 : 
 
 I 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 itors, the 
 lis whole 
 ;r, accus- 
 
 tunity to 
 :errupted 
 ance, for 
 ached to 
 ho were 
 
 sleep ? " 
 
 vered the 
 
 warned 
 ne more 
 ice, I do 
 Bathyl- 
 my last 
 les us ! " 
 cted the 
 e implu- 
 he pair. 
 * matters 
 lions of 
 e rather 
 nd yon- 
 Caesar's 
 
 most intimate friends, and we — you, the 
 philosopher, and I, the commander of his 
 soldiers — are hateful to him." 
 
 " Hateful ? Probably not quite hateful? " 
 said Seneca, glancing timidly at his friend. 
 
 " Yes, hateful," answered Burrus, positively 
 " Andromachus, the Emperor's leech, gave 
 me a hint yesterday. He said : ' Burrus, you 
 often suffer from throat trouble. Never have 
 It again, my friend ; the Caesar ordered me to 
 provide you with "an infallible cure." ' " 
 
 "That is death," replied Seneca, "the dark 
 bridge to happiness. My Burrus will not 
 tremble to cross it. For my part, I value 
 this last refuge as the best gift of the gods to 
 mankind ; if we lacked it, life would be the 
 most cruel torture. But what did Nero say 
 of me ? " ' 
 
 " Do you wish to know ? " 
 
 " I entreat you to tell me." 
 
 "I do not like to say unpleasant things. 
 Ask Andromachus." 
 
 " What could alarm the sage ? " replied Sen- 
 eca, with a dignity which concealed his anxiou. 
 curiosity. " I entreat you to speak ! " 
 
 Burrus reflected ; then, to deceive the list- 
 eners, muttered as if mentioning some indiffer- 
 ent subject, — 
 
 117 
 
m 
 
 i 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 "'Seneca ought not to display his wealth 
 publicly,' Andromaci.us said. * The Cesar's 
 strong-box is sometimes low, and — it might 
 be worth while to become Seneca's weeping 
 heir.' " 
 
 The philosopher trembled. 
 
 " I will offer him my treasures," he stam- 
 mered, almost losing his footing on th^ smooth 
 floor; "oh, ye gods! If he has my gold, he 
 will not desire my blood." 
 
 Burrus could not help smiling at the sage's 
 sudden loss of calmness, and turned to Tigel- 
 linus, who had just entered, letting the curtain 
 fall behind him, and was surveying the assem- 
 bly. Burrus greeted him ; Tigellinus re- 
 turned the compliment, and, looking at Seneca, 
 remarked, — 
 
 " Why is his brow so wrinkled by thought? 
 Is he composing a new tragedy in the Caesar's 
 ante-chamber }" 
 
 " Yes," replied Burrus, " a tragedy in which 
 he will play the hero. — Is there anything new 
 at court?" 
 
 Tigellinus remained silent. 
 
 " He has ordered Locusta, the poisoner, to 
 come to the palace," he whispered at last in 
 Burrus's ear; "some dark deed is to be 
 done." 
 
 ii8 
 
 (■ 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 " Who is to sufFer ? " 
 "That is unknown." 
 
 "To you? What could be unknown to 
 you ? " 
 
 " We may hear and see, but have no tongues. 
 The clever man would guess " 
 
 After these words Tigellinus looked Burrus 
 steadily in the eyes. 
 
 " Britannicus ! " murmured the other, scarcely 
 above his breath. 
 
 Tigellinus contracted his eyebrows, smiled 
 strangely, and passed on to the group standing 
 near the impluvium. 
 
 " Caesar has not yet left his couch," he said 
 accosting the zither-player; "perhaps Terpuus 
 can tell us the reason that tl.e divine Nero 
 IS so late m granting us the happiness of his 
 presence." 
 
 Terpuus, Nero's favorite of the hour, twisted 
 his gold ring around his finger to allow the by- 
 standers properly to value the Emperor's gift, 
 and then answered superciliously : « Terpuus' 
 knows Caesar's reasons, but he does not tell 
 them." 
 
 The other members of the group looked at 
 1 erpuus with timid reverence. 
 ^^ " My friend Terpuus," said Tigellinus, coldly, 
 1 wish you understood how to speak the 
 
 119 
 
 m 
 
 m 
 
ls3TI 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 truth as well as you can play the zither; but, 
 by Zeus ! I have never yet heard a false note 
 and never a true word come from your lips." 
 "Tigeilinus — " Terpuus began furiously. 
 "Hush!" said the former, "you are the 
 fiivorite, you are permitted to sing to the 
 Caesar while he is at table, to teach him to 
 play the zither, and yet — what a disgrace, you 
 chosen one, you favorite — and yet the reason 
 that Nero takes a longer night's rest than usual 
 is unknown to you." 
 
 "Well," replied Terpuus, contemptuously, 
 "let us hear what jo« know." 
 
 " My friend," observed the Prefect of the 
 Praetorians with courteous contempt, " if Nero 
 complains of headache to-day and has a bruise 
 on his forehead, say that this is the reason he 
 still conceals himself among his pillows." 
 
 " Nero— a bruise on his forehead .? " passed 
 around the circle ; and soon the tidings that the 
 Lord of the Earth had been struck by an im- 
 pious hand were eagerly whispered through the 
 ante-chamber. Actors, zither-players. Senators, 
 ^diles, knights, and praetors discussed, with 
 faces of the deepes-; sorrow, the terrible event 
 of the profanation of the crowned brow; but 
 Tigeilinus whispered to honest Burrus : " Just 
 look at these cringing hounds I Yet there 
 
 lao 
 
you 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 is n't one of them who really regrets that the 
 Cjesar has received this blow." 
 
 Soon after the beautiful youth, Britannicus, 
 . appeared in the ante-room. He was followed 
 
 by the Casar's court-fool, Vatinius, who tried 
 i • to attract the attention of the company by 
 
 going through all sorts of comical pantomimes 
 imitating beheading, drowning, etc., as he 
 walked behind him. Conversation ceased 
 The dwarf jester glided from one to another, 
 laughing as he whispered: "The bull is gar- 
 landed for the sacrifice ; strike, O priest • do 
 you see the sword of Damocles hanging from 
 the ceiling ? " b 6 ' 
 
 Britannicus tried to speak to the singer Men- 
 ecrates, but the latter retired as soon as decency 
 would permit; the same thing happened with 
 a 1 the others whom he approached. All 
 shunned him or looked another way. Only 
 valiant Burrus, when he noticed the embarrass- 
 ment of the courtiers, approached the down- 
 cast Britannicus, who had retreated into a lonely 
 corner, and fearlessly commenced a conversation 
 with him to which the others listened curiously 
 In the course of this talk, Burrus ventured to 
 utter a warning, but the youth shook his head 
 gloomily and replied: "Fly.? Whither? 
 Where would not my step-brother's hand 
 
 121 
 
 1 
 
 HI 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 reach me ? The world belongs to him. His 
 grasp stretches ^rom pole to pole." 
 
 " Then you intend to wait quietly until the 
 lightning strikes you ? " asked Burrus. 
 
 " We will not think of the future," replied 
 Britannicus, pressing the old warrior's hand; 
 " Orcus will beckon to us some day, what 
 matters it whether soon or late ? " 
 
 The curtain was drawn back and Petronius 
 appeared, walking haughtily through the ranks 
 of the waiting throng, without vouchsafing the 
 slightest greeting, as if he were alone in the 
 apartment. All eyes turned toward the direc- 
 tor of festivals, the Caesar's indispensable coun- 
 sellor, the only man who could say that he 
 possessed some degree of influence over his 
 master's caprices, — an influence which he owed 
 to his active imagination, tireless in devising 
 new amusements, unexpected scenes, and the 
 indifl^erence and harshness with which he re- 
 moved everything that could vex or disturb 
 his master. The courtiers watched him 
 enviously, but bowed timidly before him. He 
 approached Rufus, who was pacing to and fro 
 on guard, and when the latter informed him that 
 no one was permitted to enter the inner rooms, 
 Petronius showed him a wax tablet, whereupon 
 Rufus instantly retired from the entrance. 
 
 xaa 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 Careless of the courtiers' astonishment, Pe- 
 tronius hurried through the ghmmering marble 
 halls to his master's sleeping-room. Here, 
 too, he had to show the wax tablet to the 
 Praetorian sentinel ; then he asked for the valet, 
 was announced to the Caesar, and, soon after' 
 the slave lifted the gold-embroidered curtain 
 to admit the waiting noble into the splendid 
 chamber whose walls, with their brilliant bas- 
 reliefs, glittered like the moist interior of a 
 polished shell. Statues of Venus and of Eros 
 surrounded the ruler's couch, deep purple cur- 
 tains fell in rich folds around the swelling 
 pillows, a lion's skin lay on the mosaic floor 
 whose gay figures were reflected in the smooth 
 walls, while the springing columns of a cande- 
 labra scarcely seemed to touch the costly floor 
 with theii vulture claws. 
 
 The Emperor's bed was empty ; the pillows 
 lay scattered on the floor ; just as Petronius 
 entered Poppaea Sabina, with a startled cry, 
 disappeared behind tne curtain of the adjoining 
 room. A few seconds later the Cssar came 
 out of his bath-room at the left of the chamber. 
 Bowing profoundly, the courtier asked if the 
 gods had blessed his master's sleep. Nero, 
 wrapped in a purple woollen coverlet, was half 
 supported, half carried to a chair by two slaves, 
 
 123 
 
 I 
 
M 
 
 illy I 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 who dried his arms and feet, still fragrant from 
 the perfumed bath. The slaves, with practised 
 skill, rubbed the monarch's limbs, while a hand- 
 some boy of fifteen held a silver salver, con- 
 taining his breakfast. Beside the chair lay a 
 lyre, on the round table with goat-feet were 
 scattered rolls of manuscript ; and the C^sar, 
 after greeting Petronius, pointed to the written 
 sheets saying : " My new epic, * The Fall of 
 Troy.' " 
 
 Petronius took one of the rolls with as much 
 respect as if it had been found in the sacred 
 archives of an Egyptian temple, and read 
 aloud, — 
 
 '**When the Tigris enters the Persian do- 
 main it vanishes deep in a yawning chasm.' ^ 
 
 "Admirable ! " he said, replacing the roll and 
 casting a worshipping glance at Nero. " Oh, 
 my Lord, you possess a power of language, a 
 mastery of rhythmical form, worthy of the 
 study of all coming generations." 
 
 Then he expatiated still more minutely upon 
 the beauty of the poem, until his listener at last 
 interrupted him. 
 
 " I think it is very admirable," said Nero, 
 with affected modesty. " The verses came to 
 me. Later, when I must have Hector killed, 
 
 * Literal quotation. 
 124 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 I intend far to surpass Homer. The Greek 
 could rely on his imagination, it is true, but I 
 will study reality." 
 
 " How do you mean to do that, Lord?" 
 asked Petronius, drying Nero's hair and assist- 
 ing the slaves, who were now rubbing the 
 Emperor's body with costly ointments. 
 
 " Very simply," said the Caesar, yawning ; " I 
 will bind a slave to a chariot, and have the 
 charioteer — with Hispanian stallions — drive 
 at a gallop four times down the length of the 
 Circus Maximus." 
 
 " Oh, then your work cannot lack truth to 
 nature," said the skilful flatterer, assisting the 
 Caesar, who occasionally corrected with the 
 stylus a passage in his manuscript, to put on a 
 flowing morning-robe. 
 
 " The mirror ! " he commanded ; and, when 
 it was held before him, he looked at himself, 
 arranged the folds of his robe, and ordered 
 the laurel wreath, which always lay ready, to be 
 placed upon his curls. 
 
 " Can Virgil have looked more like a 
 genius ? " he asked, and as the valet, who had 
 just put a silver pin in his mouth, delayed his 
 answer a moment, he cast a glance at the terri- 
 fied fellow which vividly reminded him of the 
 Sardinian mines. 
 
 u 
 
Empress Octavfa 
 
 " Oh, I did not sleep well," sighed the 
 illustrious poet, seizing the goblet on the 
 silver salver. « Art, Petronius, Art wearies my 
 delicate soul. Pardon my speaking so low 
 my singmg-teacher has forbidden me to strain 
 my voice. Slave, where is the oiled leek? 
 Look, Petronius, I am permitted to eat noth- 
 ing except a little oiled leek this morning in 
 order to give my voice the necessary softness. 
 Uh, Art, Petronius, I sacrifice myself to 
 Polyhymnia and Melpomene." 
 
 " Art, my Lord," replied Petronius, with al- 
 most imperceptible irony, « is indeed the cause 
 of your exhausted nervous system ; but I know 
 another source of your evident indisposition — 
 It IS not only Polyhymnia who destroys your 
 health. An earthly woman, Octavia— " 
 
 " I know, I know what you are going to 
 say," whispered the Emperor; "you mean — 
 h'm ! Do not spoil this beautiful morning so 
 early for me with that hated name. My 
 friend, give this Assyrian donkey a kick," he 
 interrupted himself, pointing to the slave « I 
 don't wish to exert myself to-day ; the dog has 
 offered me fruit for breakfast, and he knows 
 how much it injures the throat." 
 
 Petronius drove out the slaves, and then 
 returned to his lord and began to explain the 
 
 126 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 reason for his early visit. But Nero was 
 not in the mood to listen quietly. He made 
 al sorts of signs to the slave who entered to 
 tell him about Locusta's brewing of poison, 
 and when Petronius asked in surprise whether 
 this notorious poisoner was in the palace he 
 answered smiling, — ' 
 
 " Certainly, I want to invent a new dish for 
 one of my relatives, toward whom I am very 
 well disposed; you know I understand some- 
 thing about the art of cooking." 
 
 Then he inquired about his rival, the singer 
 Datus, and when Petronius said that he had 
 elicited the most rapturous applause from the 
 populace, Nero became extremely uneasy 
 sharply criticised the artist's execution, shrank 
 when Petronius mentioned the praise of this 
 or that musical connoisseur, declared that the 
 Romans had no ears, asked several times 
 whether the Cesar's voice was not far more 
 beautiful, and when Petronius continued to 
 describe the delight of the Roman people, 
 said: « Datus will try his voice within a week 
 upon the frogs of the Styx." 
 
 Petronius had now put the Emperor into 
 the mood he desired; Nero's face was flushed, 
 his deep-set eyes flashed, his base, sensual 
 mouth was compressed. True, in spite of his 
 
 127 
 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 excitement, he subdued the loud, almost shriek- 
 ing tone he had just used, and asked to have 
 his singing-master summoned, that the hitter 
 might remind him to spare his exquisite voice ; 
 but he could not wholly calm his inflamed 
 blood, and shouted angrily to a slave who came 
 to say that Locusta's poison, which had just 
 been given to a ram, did not have the speedy 
 efl^ect expected. « Tell the woman I will flog 
 
 her with my own hands, if she does not " 
 
 here he interrupted himself, pressed his kerchief 
 to his lips, and murmured almost under his 
 breath — "if she does not know how to make 
 the poison strong enough to kill a man in two 
 seconds." 
 
 The slave left the room, and Nero wailed 
 that he was growing hoa.se, he would certainly 
 be hissed if he sang in the gardens the next 
 morning before the populace. Petronius 
 thought that the right time to explain his plan 
 to Caesar had now come. First, with the 
 Caesar's approval, he dismissed all the slaves ; 
 then, looking behind the curtain at the door, he 
 convinced himself that no one was listening, 
 and then in cautious words reminded the .sov- 
 ereign of the street scene of the night before, 
 the pugnacious provincial, and when he per- 
 ceived that the Emperor was by no means 
 
 128 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 much angered about the bruise on his forehead 
 .nfl,cted by the stranger, but laughingly ad- 
 
 Flautus Petronms said: "The comedy 
 august C^sar, will, at your request, receive the' 
 addmon of another act. Do you remember fo 
 palace r^-''" ''""'"°"''i Metellus to the 
 
 Nero dU remember; the courtier's words, 
 uttered w.th unusual emphasis, evidently made 
 h.m more senous, his brow darkened, and cast- 
 ing a hm,d glance around him, he asked : "Is 
 he already here, this -what is his name?" 
 Metellus, you mean 1 I have sent some 
 
 slaves w.th a htter to his lodgings; they wil 
 br.ngh,m unseen to the palace. I hope he 
 will enter your atrium in half an hour " 
 
 "Why does he come so publicly.'" asked 
 the Cresar; "would it not have been better o 
 bring him before me secretly ? " 
 
 " The more openly we conduct the affair, the 
 less suspicious it will appear to the world," re- 
 plied the other « The motives of the conspiracy 
 against Octavia's virtue will remain hidden from 
 every eye; but the tool himself must move 
 about the palace as freely as possible." 
 
 Nero nodded assent, sighed, rose, and ap- 
 proaching the stame of Venus, seemed wholly 
 ^ 129 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 S .! 
 
 absorbed in gazing at it. Petronius did not 
 venture to interrupt him. At last the Em- 
 peror turned hastily toward a draped picture 
 which stood on the floor in one corner of the 
 room; a jerk tore the concealing veil from the 
 frame, and a woman's gentle face appeared. 
 The painting, a work of Amulius, represented 
 the Empress Octavia. A diadem adorned the 
 noble brow ; the eyes, with their slightly red- 
 dened lids, seemed as it were spiritualized by 
 tears, and this expression gave the face a cer- 
 tain severe grandeur, a stern, repellent loveli- 
 ness. " I have wept, but what do you care for 
 that ? " the lips were apparently saying to the 
 spectator. 
 
 For a brief time the royal actor, Nero, for- 
 got himself, and dropped his mask. He had 
 scanned the picture with gloomy, timid eyes, 
 half averting his face as if he was afraid to come 
 too near it, as if those melancholy eyes dis- 
 turbed his soul ; an unintelligible power in this 
 portrait spoke to the man, usually so unfeeling, 
 a power which, instead of compelling rever- 
 ence, inspired hate. Yet he soon regained his 
 usual mood. Influenced, even in this fateful 
 moment, by his diseased imagination, he paced 
 up and down the room as if he wore the 
 cothurni, showing by his gestures that it 
 
 130 
 
did not 
 the Em- 
 l picture 
 ir of the 
 from the 
 ppeared. 
 iresented 
 rned the 
 itly red- 
 lized by 
 e a cer- 
 t loveli- 
 
 care for 
 g to the 
 
 ero, for- 
 He had 
 id eyes, 
 to come 
 yes dis- 
 r in this 
 ifeeiing, 
 r rever- 
 ined his 
 I fateful 
 e paced 
 ore the 
 that it 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 pleased him to regard the whole serious matter 
 as an mteresting tragedy. 
 ^^ " Yes, Petronius," he said in a hollow tone, 
 I must reach a decision at last. You are 
 right See, I feel a horror of this face. Can 
 I tel why myself .. She has a scar on her ear, 
 which offends my sense of beauty ; her nose is 
 too stern, almost unfeminine in its contour- 
 the countenance looks lifeless, like something 
 that belongs to the nether world, but that is 
 not the reason it is hateful to me. When 
 Claudius gave me his daughter, I congratulated 
 myself until my eyes rested on Otho's wife 
 From that time I felt a loathing of Octavia's 
 everlasting virtue and childish diffidence, and I 
 realized that only what shortsighted fools call 
 vice can possess permanent charm. Oh and 
 Po^pTar " "' ^'"^-^-^d smiling sin, my 
 
 He hastened to his writing-table, hastily 
 scrawled the word "amber-haired" on the 
 papyrus, and said, <' An apt expression, it can 
 be utihzed." Then, counting L his 'fingers 
 he hummed the Alcaean rhythm, and at lasJ 
 approached Petronius with the gesture of a 
 poet who is deliberating. 
 
 "I have considered your plan of releasing 
 me from this woman," he went on in a theat 
 
 131 
 
i ' 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 rical tone, " and must pay it the tribute of my 
 approval. It is the only way in which I can 
 rid myself of Octavia without arousing the 
 wrath of the Senate or the populace." 
 
 " Yes, my august Master," Petronius as- 
 sented, " the stratagem of war which I have 
 proposed will cast all the guilt upon Octavia's 
 head and present your divorce to the people 
 as a necessary step, commanded by the gods ; 
 nay, it will even invest your dignity with the 
 lustre of justice." 
 
 " But in what way is your tool, Metellus, to 
 be made useful to us ? " asked the Caesar. 
 
 " Very simply," replied the courtier. " First, 
 we must receive him among your attendants. 
 As the youth is a stranger in Rome, no one 
 knows him, and that he, too, knows no one, 
 will greatly aid our designs. No man is better 
 adapted to attract the notice of the Empress 
 than this gay, childlike artist nature ; no one 
 can be more easily deceived or more readily 
 expose himself to suspicion than this inexperi- 
 enced, awkwaid youth, who regards the world 
 as a young priest of Isis gazes at the mysteri- 
 ous heavenly lights which he understands as 
 little as the teacher who pretends to know 
 them. If Metellus feels no anxiety concerning 
 the future, if we can make the palace a com- 
 
 132 
 
 a 
 
 V 
 
 b 
 
 ti 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 fortable home to him, an opportunity of bring- 
 ing h.m.ntoOctavia's society will soon prf- 
 aent .tself. For instance, you can apparem y 
 become reconciled to Octavia, -a task worthy 
 of your histnonic talent," added the shrewd 
 courtier mterrupting himself, as Nero shrugged 
 h.s shoulders. "I say you can feign a recondl' 
 ation, speak to her n,ore kindly, act the lover 
 and we others, meanwhile, will admire your ar- 
 t.st.c g,ft of dissimulation. You will order 
 from th,s Metellus a bust of Octavia. for you 
 love her so ardently that you desire to perpet- 
 
 hmk from that tme it ought to be easy for us 
 to accuse the pair, as soon as they are left alone 
 a moment by the slaves, of mutual love, no 
 matter whether the charge is true or false. You 
 know the world always believes in evil more 
 easily than in good." 
 
 Petronius had scarcely finished speaking 
 when the door-curtain of the next room rustled^ 
 1 he startled courtier grasped his dagger, but 
 a woman s figure, whose nert ,„^ i, 
 v.;!.^ k f ■ I ^"^ oosom were 
 
 veiled by fair, loosened tresses, emerged from 
 behind the purple folds, and, before nL could 
 turn, Foppaea's white arms embraced him 
 
 Forgive me, my Master," she said sm ling, 
 pressing her round cheek against Nero's, "I 
 
 ■33 
 
 t 
 
 s 
 
 
I 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 could not help it, when I fled into yonder 
 room I heard your whole conversation." 
 
 The Caesar, pleasantly surprised and glad 
 to break off the grave conversation, which 
 wearied him, bent toward her, whispering: 
 " Well, what does our Helen say to the plan 
 we have been discussing ? " 
 
 " The wish to express my gratitude for it 
 lured me from my hiding-place," replied 
 Poppaea, feigning an emotion which height- 
 ened the charm of her impassioned face ; " oh, 
 my Master, how wise you are to rid yourself 
 at last of that pattern of tiresome virtue, 
 Octavia. How much more freely we can 
 enjoy our happiness ! " 
 
 Feigning shame and devotion, the crafty 
 woman sank down on the couch, covered her 
 neck and shoulders with affected haste, and 
 directed a yearning gaze at Nero. The latter 
 stroked her " amber hair " and, having Uecome 
 her unresisting slave, "ried to kiss her lips, 
 which she withdrew from him. Her way of 
 coquetting with her loosened locks was fascin- 
 ating even to Petronius, though he could not 
 help smiling at the Emperor's love-making. 
 
 " No, no, my Master," said Poppaea, strug- 
 gling, " no, no ! I will be chary with my 
 charms now, for I sometimes feel what a 
 
 134 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 sinner you have made me. Think ! I deserted 
 my husband for your sake, I won your love 
 from your Octavia, and I tell you, you shall 
 not kiss my lips again until you can call me 
 your lawful wife. Our relation weighs heavily 
 upon me -Octavia -oh, that virtuous Octavia, 
 I fear you still love her better than you do me " 
 She rose to retire. The Cresar, fired by the 
 beauty s dishevelled charms, strove to comfort 
 her, to draw her aown into her seat again ; he 
 did not care whether Popp^a's modesty was 
 affected or real, nay, the sham diffidence at- 
 tracted him more strongly than the genuine, 
 and he sat down hc.ide her, protesting, with 
 faltering hps, c . .r and over again that Popp.xa 
 should take the place of his present wife, as 
 soon as the latter could be put out of the way. 
 Poppaea did not disdain to take refuge in tears, 
 that she might still more inflame her lover's 
 passion, meanwhile talking perpetually about 
 Octavia s virtue, bewailing her own sins, calling 
 herself a base wretch, lamenting her husband, 
 who had been sent to the provinces, longing 
 to return to the lonely man, and thus putting 
 Nero into the mood of theatrically esthetic 
 compassion, which is more akin to pleasure 
 than to pain, and rather stimulates passion 
 than soothes it. 
 
 ^35 
 
 lllf 
 
i :i 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 Petronius reminded Nero of the visitors 
 waiting in the atrium, but the Emperor asked : 
 " Why do these people have legs except to 
 stand in the atrium ? " then clasped Poppjea 
 in his arms in the most blissful mood. When 
 she at last threw herself at his feet and im- 
 plored him to cast her off, restore her to 
 virtue, and reconcile her to her poor husband, 
 the farce produced such an impression upon 
 the royal comedian that tears flowed from his 
 eyes and, fairly enraptured, he exclaimed : 
 " What a tender artist-nature I possess ! see 
 this noble Sabina, Petronius ! Alas ! Octavia's 
 fall moves me to tears, I will commemorate 
 it in an ode." 
 
 Although he now sent for the zither to 
 improvise a tragic melody, he issued several 
 orders in a low tone to a slave who came in at 
 the same moment to inform him that Locusta's 
 poison had now gained sufficient strength : " At 
 supper," they heard him whisper, and, after the 
 slave had retired, he said smiling, — 
 
 " If any little accident should befall my dear 
 brother Britannicus at supper this evening, 
 have the kindness not to notice it." 
 
 While he was drawing melancholy notes 
 from his instrument, Poppasa secretly ques- 
 tioned Petronius about Metellus. 
 
 ^36 
 
see 
 
 At 
 
 notes 
 ques- 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 "What is his figure ? " she asked. 
 
 " Rather small than large," replied Petronius, 
 under his breath. 
 
 " Handsome ? " 
 
 " Delicate, f? , an Adonis who seems created 
 to make wome: - faith waver." 
 
 Poppjea glanced up tenderly at the courtier 
 
 " They say that Octavia is very virtuous " 
 she murmured, « men's beauty will not win 
 her." 
 
 " That is not necessary here," whispered 
 Petromus; "if we can even cast a shadow of 
 suspicion on him, our game is won." 
 
 " Pool boy," said Poppaea, with sincere com- 
 passion. " I am sorry that he must be sacri- 
 ficed and abused for this Octavia. But you 
 will not kill him ? " 
 
 " The toy might easily chance to break in 
 the giant's hand," replied Petronius; "but if 
 it is possible to save him, your wish, oh 
 mistress, shall be fulfilled." ' 
 
 "Oh, yes ! Save him, beauty has a right 
 to live. Besides he is so wholly innocent in 
 the whole matter, is n't he ? Oh, I must see 
 him, speak to him." 
 
 " The fair Poppaga is already conjuring up 
 an imaginary Metellus, I see," murmured 
 Petronms, smiling; « O Cupid, I see thy shaft- 
 
■ i ! 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 " Do not blame me," she answered, " but 
 stay, Nero is laying the zither aside and writ- 
 ing.. Only one thing, — we must manage to 
 surprise the pair, Octavia and Metellus, in a 
 situation which will at least give us the sem- 
 blance of right. This I demand — to justify 
 my relations with Nero in the eyes of the 
 people." 
 
 " I shall not lack spies," replied the director 
 of festivals. 
 
 When Poppaea left the room to arrange her 
 toilet for the morning, the Caesar ordered the 
 folds of his robe to be draped, and announced 
 that ke v/ould receive the visitors waiting in 
 the atrium. Among them, during the last 
 hour, was the sculptor Metellus. The young 
 man felt extremely uncomfortable in this com- 
 pany of aristocrats, some of whom took no notice 
 of him at all, while others cast contemptuous 
 glances at him, and drew back in embarrass- 
 ment near the entrance. 
 
 When, unable to think what he should do 
 or where he should go, he rushed in the great- 
 est bewilderment from the barber's shop, a 
 grinning Ethiopian met him at the door of his 
 lodgings, pointed to a litter which stood wait- 
 ing, and, in very courteous terms, invited him 
 to enter it. The terrified youth summoned up 
 
 138 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 his courage and, drawing a long breath, asked 
 what was wanted with him. The slave dis- 
 pelled his fears by assuring him that they 
 wished to employ his talent at court; and, as 
 Metellus desired to bring his destiny to some 
 end, even though an unfortunate one, he took 
 his place in the litter, forcing himself to banish 
 the future from his mind. 
 
 He was thus conveyed to the p-,lace and 
 cond ^ted to a room where new, clean, nay 
 l^^^n. some garments lay ready fbr him. When 
 ^..-lad taken a warm bath and refreshed him- 
 self with the food set before him, his natural 
 cheerfu ness returned, and he asked himself: 
 Metellus, what is to befall you .? What will 
 the next hours bring.? " The slave had assigned 
 this room as a lodging; he was to remain here 
 until the work (doubtless a statue) for which 
 he was wanted, was completed. The apart- 
 ment faced the gardens; the tops of the pine- 
 trees reached to the marble balcony ; far and 
 wide rose-bushes and trees most tastefully 
 ming ed with the dazzlingly white forms of 
 marble statues. 
 
 The slave placed several dishes on the 
 marble table, and Metellus, unaccustomed to 
 play the master, spoke pleasantly to the old 
 Syrian, greatly embarrassing the nxan, who 
 
 139 
 
 I 
 
f i 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 had never heard such kind words. While 
 conducting the youth across the courtyard, 
 the old fellow had sometimes attempted to 
 patronize him, meanwhile informing his smil- 
 ing colleagues by all sorts of gestures that he 
 had a perfect nov^ice in charge. Now, when 
 " Beryll " was alone with the youth and be- 
 came more and more convinced that Nero's 
 new favorite had not learned to command, he 
 penitently changed his conduct and beclme 
 confidence personified. He officiously closed 
 the large green curtain which covered the 
 pillars of the broad window, and volubly gave 
 all the information desired. 
 
 " We had a hint given us," he said among 
 other things, " that we were to serve you with 
 great readiness. You are certainly on the 
 brink of making your fortune ; but beware -- 
 the thresholds of these rooms are slippery, and 
 many a man has fallen who supposed he was 
 standing firmly. But I '11 say no more, for 
 here the air has ears." 
 
 At last, after numerous questions, bows, and 
 signs of humility he left the chamber. 
 
 '•The thresholds of these rooms are slip- 
 pery," murmured Metellus, drawing the green 
 veil back from the window and letting the sun 
 gild the ornaments on the walls again. The 
 
 140 
 
I 
 
 for 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 words had made him grave; a feeling as if he 
 
 whenh" fn'T^'r' P"^°" ^^°^^ -- him 
 when he thought that the vast palace with its 
 
 troops of servants surrounded him. The con 
 
 saousness of being served was oppressive to" 
 
 his unspoiled nature; he had been constantly 
 
 emped to take the platter or the cup from 
 the slave's hands. When he looked around 
 his room everything bewildered him. The 
 glided pillars seemed to cry out, "You do not 
 
 belong here;' the splendid couch, with feet 
 like gilded vulture's talons, had so stately an 
 air hat one might fancy it would be deeply 
 insulted if anybody tried to lie down on its 
 pillows. 
 
 Metellus's eyes grew sorrowful ; his features 
 expressed the melancholy peculiar to youth, 
 and which IS not free from a tinge of poetic 
 affectation In reality he did not know why 
 he should be sad, but he endeavored to feel 
 depressed, and he succeeded. Was the blue 
 sky with Its whispering tree-tops an object 
 which mvited sorrow? Did the song of the 
 birds ,n the shrubbery outside sound mourn- 
 
 l u ."°' '^' ^^'^'"^ '•^^^s of Rome, 
 
 above which rose green leafage and the daz- 
 
 zlingly white pediments of temples, present a 
 
 thoroughly cheerflil spectacle ? And yonder 
 
 141 
 
 •H 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 lake which, surrounded by statues, lay glitter- 
 ing like silver in the sunshine — could one 
 really think of nothing while gazing at it, except 
 the death to be found in its waves ? 
 
 Metellus had reason to be very well satisfied 
 with his situation; Fortuna had favored him 
 marvellously; it would have been the right 
 time to thank Fate, to cherish hope. Perhaps 
 it was the very excess of comfort that led him 
 to place himself, with a feeling of defiance, in 
 the position of an unfortunate man. Hark ! 
 How mournfully a turtle-dove cooed yonder, 
 how sadly the pines rustled. 
 
 Yet his mood did not prevent him from 
 scanning himself carefully in the round mirror 
 which, upheld by a metal faun, stood on the 
 dressing-table. Nay, it must be confessed that 
 he rejoiced like a child, or rather like a Greek 
 girl, in the Egyptian linen which draped his 
 limbs, and passed his hand again and again 
 through his locks, perfumed with fragrant 
 salves, amid which rested a gold-embroidered 
 fillet. He himself noticed, blushing, as he 
 often glanced into the mirror, how the outlines 
 and coloring of his face had been improved by 
 the manner of arranging his hair; how the 
 symmetry of his limbs was enhanced by the 
 delicate folds of the toga ; and yet, though his 
 
 142 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 artistic sense of beauty was gratified, he seemed 
 to himself so contemptible in this finery that 
 he would gladly have left the palace at once 
 But the prospect of being spared all anxiety 
 about earnmg a support, and especially of being 
 able to pursue his profession undisturbed, and 
 also a slight touch of youthful love of adven- 
 ture, induced him to wait. He was still en- 
 gaged in finishing his toilet, to which he usually 
 paid htde heed, when old Beryllus entered, 
 ar^d loudly praised his master's beauty. Me- 
 tellus angrily stopped him. 
 
 "Silence, old man," he cried; "this finery 
 tortur... me. I should like -to tear these 
 garments from my body." 
 
 He actually seized the fillet, but the terrified 
 slave grasped his hand. 
 
 " Nero will receive you in half an hour 
 among the morning visitors in the atrium " 
 he said. "Be careful to make a good 
 impression. ° 
 
 So, in half an hour he was to stand before 
 the Lord of the Universe ! Before the man 
 whom he had insulted ! Then it was indeed 
 necessary to appear as well as possible. Like 
 all young people, the sculptor considered his 
 rnanners flawless, and in his own mind believed 
 that he need not fear a meeting with the gods ; 
 
 143 
 
 i 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 yet he was very glad that he had still half an 
 hour in which to prepare himself for the Em- 
 peror's possible questions. It was his custom 
 to help himself through unpleasant moments 
 either by reading Virgil, or by playing on his 
 flute. When he loked in his travelling pouch 
 for the roll of Virgil he could not find it; he 
 must have lost it in his flight from the barber's 
 shop ; so he seized his flute. Believing that 
 his heart would throb less anxiously in the 
 open air, he left the room to seek a shady 
 nook in the park. 
 
 It was now almost noon. The dark green 
 foliage of the cypress-trees towered noiselessly 
 into the deep azure of the sky. All the leaves 
 were shining with sunlight; it seemed as if the 
 sun had hung golden balls on all the branches, 
 flowers, grass-blades; even the birds were silent, 
 only the cicada uttered its drowsy song in the 
 bushes. The youth covered his dazzled eyes 
 with his hands ; the unusual dress burdened 
 him; the sultry stillness brooding over the 
 motionless tree-tops and well-kept paths in- 
 spired a mood of solemn melancholy. Before 
 him glittered a pool, in whose waters several 
 statues were reflected. He could scarcely 
 look into the sparkling ripples, and his eyes 
 ached when he fixed them upon the white 
 
 144 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 images of the gods, which stood there in their 
 peculiar loveHness. 
 
 curb 'orthe''""'" .^'""'"'"^ °" "'^ ^'g^ «'°"- 
 curb of the pond, just opposite to a Venus 
 
 who was holding the apple toward a mor 
 
 distant Mars, raised his flute to his lips, and 
 
 Fe!:"of°t "" 'T '' "" '"^"--'^^ -'5 
 Fear of the audience so close at hand passed 
 
 away, the stupor of slumber stole over h,^ 
 
 From yonder dark grove, he thought a fa",; 
 
 must soon leap forth, gaze timidly afound Ind 
 dart toward the nymph who was^ying a^le p 
 
 n the grass. While these fancies^ flit eS 
 through his wearied brain and dispelled the 
 anxietjes of the actual world, he lured melting 
 notes from his flute, moved his fingers daintily 
 and in this attitude, with bowed head, p el 
 sented an extremely charming, idyllic pi'cture. 
 His eyes grew more and more weary i„ their 
 expression ; he sank slowly down from the 
 stone upon the grass, and soon fell asleep with 
 his cheek resting on his arm 
 
 red'^L'^lf ''^"'^l'•"'"'/ ''^"'""'^ ^™'' °» his 
 red. half parted i,ps, he resembled an Endy- 
 
 mion ; the flute was pressed to his breast; 
 
 Suddenly he started from his slumber- the 
 creaking of the gravel had roused him -and 
 
 ■45 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 looked around him with dull eyes ; the silent 
 gods still stood in their places, the glittering 
 sunlight still flashed upon the wjter, yet he 
 had dreamed fhat it was night, the dark night 
 of Orcus, and, in the half slumber which pre- 
 ceded his waking, it had seemed as if a head 
 had peered forth from behind the cypress wall, 
 a face that was not wholly unfamiliar to him. 
 But the cypresses towered aloft as before, noth- 
 ing moved. He half raised himself, turned 
 his face, and now saw that he was not mistaken ; 
 a woman stepped from among the trees into 
 the open space and, smiling pleasantly, said : 
 
 " I heard your flute-playing, boy, and dis- 
 turbed your sleep. I hope you are not angry 
 with me ? " 
 
 She flushed slightly, as Metellus, striving 
 to find words, gazed into her grave, noble 
 face. At last, lowering his eyes and blushing 
 still more deeply than she, he said softly, — 
 
 " I know you, I saw you kneeling in the 
 temple of Zeus." 
 
 Now he ventured to glance up at her, and 
 thinking he perceived that her thoughts were 
 no longer with him, but dweUing upon a sor- 
 rowful past, he dared not interrupt her silent 
 reverie ; but his eyes rested rapturously on the 
 slender, girlish figure, admiring the grace with 
 
 146 
 
he silent 
 rlittering 
 , yet he 
 rk night 
 lich pre- 
 ' a head 
 ess wall, 
 
 to him. 
 re, noth- 
 , turned 
 istaken ; 
 ees into 
 
 said : 
 ind dis- 
 )t angry 
 
 striving 
 ;, noble 
 )lushing 
 
 ly,- 
 
 ; in the 
 
 ler, and 
 Its were 
 1 a sor- 
 r silent 
 on the 
 ce with 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 which her wh,tc arm supported her mantle. 
 Agam, as m the temple, a weight burdened 
 h.s breast when he imagined how those arms 
 could embrace, what it must be to rest upon 
 the bosom over which the folds of the robe 
 swept so mysteriously. 
 
 "Do not look so sad," escaped his lips; 
 
 the gods know how to aid." 
 
 To conceal his embarrassment, he now 
 
 sprang from the ground, and as she made no 
 
 reply, went on m a tone of forced gayety : 
 
 You must be the Empress's favorite slave - 
 
 you ~ and suddenly, as if carried away by 
 a passion incomprehensible to himself, he 
 advanced nearer to the beautiful dreamer, tried 
 to clasp her white arm with his fingers, and 
 tenderly stroked her cheek 
 
 when a wrathful look from the woman whose 
 reverie he had interrupted flashed upon him. 
 
 Profligate ! " fell i„ almost inaudible tones 
 from her bl.-u.ched lips, " you will be told who 
 1 am ; and clenching her hand as if for a 
 blow she stood before the deeply alarmed 
 youth. Her lips moved as if she were about 
 to speak; then she turned and went toward 
 the palace, from which her attendants came to 
 
 H7 
 
 1»; 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 meet her. Metellus watched her walk through 
 the shrubbery, as if in a dream ; he thought 
 that she was covering her face with her hands 
 as though to conceal tears. He looked after 
 her like a criminal condemned to death, and 
 almost on the verge of weeping, threw him- 
 self on the ground, propping his head on 
 his hands. A stupor seemed ro leave him, 
 the tension of his nerves lessened, and the 
 shameful consciousness of having completely 
 forgotten himself robbed him for the moment 
 of all self-control. He fancied he still felt 
 her arm, so soft, so warm, yielding to the pres- 
 sure of his fingers, still heard her voice, saw 
 her flashing eyes ; he was absorbed in the 
 consciousness of her presence, he saw her nar- 
 row brow, the swelling curves of her bosom, 
 and this consciousness blended in painful con- 
 trast with the feeling of shame. At last, when 
 his thoughts began to grow calmer, he resolved 
 to shun this woman who had dared to call 
 him a profligate. But who was she ? A slave 
 in the palace ? Was he to allow himself to 
 be insulted by a slave? What did he care 
 about her? Let her call him what she pleased, 
 what did it matter? When she clenched her 
 fist, he ought to have laughed at her and 
 boldly embraced her. But he had little time to 
 
 148 
 
 
through 
 thought 
 ;r hands 
 :ed after 
 ath, and 
 BW him- 
 lead on 
 ve him, 
 and the 
 mpletely 
 moment 
 still felt 
 he pres- 
 ice, saw 
 
 in the 
 her nar- 
 
 bosom, 
 ful con- 
 st, when 
 resolved 
 
 to call 
 A slave 
 Tiself to 
 he care 
 pleased, 
 hed her 
 Ker and 
 time to 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 give vent to h.s defiance; Beryllus came running 
 toward hnn to summon him to the audience. 
 . What IS the name of the slave-girl who 
 just came out of the palace ? " asked Metellus. 
 Slave-g,rl ? W^nt slave-girl ? " replied the 
 old n.an, draw.rg the I alf-resisting youth on- 
 ward " Make ;a.^e, the Vmperor is just enter- 
 ing the atnum.' 
 
 So the artist wa. breed to thrust aside every 
 thought of the beauty, and his eager way of 
 pursuing every new impulse rendered this 
 tolerably easy. 
 
 Soon after he stood blushing on the thresh- 
 old of the atnum, where, with mathematical 
 eagerness, he counted the stones of the mosaic 
 floor and felt that anxious heart-throb of ex- 
 pectation which permits us to take no accurate 
 survey of our situation. One courtier who 
 addressed him received a rude answer by no 
 means appropriate to the circumstances; another 
 who attempted to banter him met one of the 
 haughty glances which spring from embarrass- 
 ment, and are so becoming to a handsome 
 young face. 
 
 At last, surrounded by lictors, the Casar 
 appeared. A laurel wreath, skilfully arranged 
 upon his hair, concealed the scratch on his 
 brow from every eye ; and our hero, who had 
 
 149 
 
t 
 
 1 
 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 dealt the blow, recognized the "Apollo" of 
 his nocturnal adventure only by his broad 
 chin and deep-set eyes. Metellus was prob- 
 ably the only one among the courtiers, who 
 hastily formed a semi-circle, that gazed fear- 
 lessly into the cruel, shifting eyes of the 
 sovereign. The Caesar moved slowly through 
 the ranks of his servants. Every shade of 
 trifling and levity had vanished from his 
 bearing; gloomy, iron seriousness rested upon 
 his swollen brow, and his eyes looked dull, 
 yet in their depths glowed a light which 
 seemed to gloat over the fear of his subjects. 
 Doubtless many a pale-faced man thought 
 that it would be more endurable to be locked 
 into a cage with a tiger than to remain in the 
 despot's presence. 
 
 A chair was placed in the centre of the apart- 
 ment, into which the tyrant, with a sullen face, 
 was about to sink, while the others stood 
 in a wide circle around him. He flung the 
 cushion at his body-slave's head, and called 
 for a softer one. At last he took his seat, at 
 last the cusnions were arranged to his satis- 
 faction. How often in such an hour the words 
 exile, dungeon, death, had fallen from the Em- 
 peror's lips as carelessly as chaflT drops from a 
 torn sack. 
 
 ISO 
 
 m 
 
^ 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 _ In a low, feeble voice Nero now asked va 
 nous questions, but carefully avoided any dis- 
 cussion of government affairs. He inquired 
 about h,s mother's health, and, in the same 
 tone, asked whether the new lions had come 
 from Libya The smiling Seneca, who sought 
 to soothe him concerning Agrippina's health, 
 received an answer which plainly showed that 
 he would prefer less reassuring nc.s in future. 
 The Prefect of the Pr^torians was ordered to 
 arrest a certain art critic who, two days before, 
 had fallen asleep at a banquet while the Em- 
 peror was reciting one of his poems. All 
 present heard the command with a shudder 
 He was especially gracious to Britannicus, as- 
 suring him repeatedly of his favor, so that he 
 would almost have deceived him concerning 
 his intentions, had he not known, like all who 
 were acquainted with Nero's disposition, that 
 such exaggerated friendliness must be inter- 
 preted as signs of his approaching destruction. 
 As the courtiers, silent and trembling, stood 
 around his chair, watching the dreaded tyrant's 
 every look, Burrus who, as his former teacher 
 could venture more than the others, uttered a 
 few words in behalf of Octavia, who, he said, was 
 grieving her life away in her own apartments. 
 Ihe hmperor made a hasty gesture of refusal 
 
 'SI 
 

 ii ' 
 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 which disarranged the folds of his mantle. As 
 Tigellinus bent down to smooth them Metel- 
 lus, who stood near, could not refrain from 
 assisting him. Advancing in his shy, childlike 
 manner to the Caesar's chair, he changed the 
 draping according to his artistic taste, scarcely 
 noticing the murmur of astonishment and terror 
 which ran through the ranks of the courtiers, 
 or the many lips that curled in contemptuous 
 smiles. Nero, however, in. whose ear Petro- 
 nius had whispered a few words, accepted the 
 service of the youth, so inexperienced in court 
 etiquette, very graciously. Smiling at the em- 
 barrassed sculptor, he said to Tigellinus : " My 
 friend, this artist knows how to make me re- 
 semble an august statue better than you do." 
 Then he turned to the assembly. 
 
 " Burrus," he said, " I should be glad to be 
 reconciled to Octavia. Stern Burrus, let me 
 tell you that your Emperor also desires this 
 agreement, and has already taken the first step 
 toward it. This young artist was recommended 
 to me by Petronius, I wish him to carve Oc- 
 tavia's statue." 
 
 Nero dismissed the company earlier than 
 usual on the pretext that important govern- 
 ment business awaited settlement ; but in reality 
 he was expecting some Grecian envoys, whom 
 
 152 
 
 i 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 he had invited to a banquet, and who wished 
 to present to him the crown of victory of the 
 zither-players of Greece. Scarcely had the 
 monarch left the atrium when the courtiers 
 surrounded the favored artist from all sides, 
 congratulated him, and assured him of their 
 changeless friendship. How he had managed 
 to win Nero's heart so quickly no one could 
 tell, but they did not ponder over the matter 
 long. They called him Favorite; predicted 
 a fortunate ruture, and even those who, at his 
 entrance into the atrium, had turned haugh- 
 tily away now bowed low, protesting that as 
 soon as they saw him, they perceived marked 
 evidences of genius on his brow and in his 
 bearing. 
 
 Metellus received these compliments with a 
 radiant face, stammering confused disclaimers; 
 and when a wealthy Senator, with exaggerated 
 complaisance, placed his entire fortune at his 
 disposal, he was modest enough to request only 
 a few thousand denarii. The portly Senator, 
 secretly so enraged by the misunderstanding 
 that, tearing a stroke of apoplexy, he ordered 
 his slaves to bring him cold water, nevertheless 
 smiled graciously, and ordered a bondman to 
 pay the desired sum as soon as possible. 
 Metellus took it so much as a matter of course 
 
 153 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 that he did not even consider it necessary to 
 thank the rich miser. 
 
 When he reached his own room, his first 
 act was to jump for joy. How rosily the 
 future smiled upon him, how beautiful vvas the 
 world, how kind were the people in it ! And 
 where was Nero's wickedness, of which he 
 had seen nothing, yet which people could 
 not paint in sufficient enormity? Had not 
 this slandered man given him shelter, work, 
 bread, nay life itself, though he had offended 
 him .? ' 
 
 Yet in the midst of this rapture of joy, a 
 grief, hitherto unknown, suddenly assailed him, 
 -- a grief which it would probably require a 
 lifetime to banish, but recurre- 'ike an inter- 
 mittent fever; a grief which ad a certain 
 resemblance to joy and increased whenever his 
 eyes rested on the dancing nymphs wl-o smiled 
 upon him from the walls. Perhaps his con- 
 dition of joyful excitement contributed in filling 
 his imagination with the yearning that so easily 
 deepens at the sight of female forms. The very 
 word ''woman" or "girl" awakened strange 
 emotions, and he could not imagine that there 
 was ever a time when he had scorned the whole ' 
 sex and preferred his friend's society to any 
 other. Yes, a woman's smile wa& . \ 'IfFerent 
 
 ^54 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 from a friend's, woman's timidity inspired 
 more devotion than his friend's harsh, laconic 
 frankness, an indescribable mystery surrounded 
 her soft, pliant figure. As yet these emotions 
 did not centre upon any special woman, but 
 hovered around the whole sex, and weighed 
 like a burden upon his soul. 
 
 But this mood, too, gradually passed away, 
 and when the slave entered to conduct him to 
 the Empress, his cheerfulness again br^st 
 victoriously through the misty confusion of his 
 thoughts. Smiling as if intoxicated, he fol- 
 lowed old Beryllus through the halls and 
 corridors of the palace, and did not wake to 
 real life until the latter, drawing back the cur- 
 tain hanging before a door, said : ' Enter, you 
 are already announced." 
 
 Metellus heard from behind the curtain the 
 plashing of the fountain that was pouring its 
 jet into the basin. A light spray fell upon him 
 as he entered the cool, dim twilight. He 
 stood with downcast eyes in the dusky apart- 
 ment, feehng, without seeing, that he was in 
 the presence of a woman, the rustling of whose 
 garments reached his ear. A woman ! This 
 was the consciousness that made his face flush 
 as if he had profaned a sanctuary, and forced 
 him to lower his eyes. Not until a man's 
 
 ^55 
 
 ?m 
 
^'^a 
 
 Empress Octa 
 
 voice said: "This is the you!\g ardst, my 
 august .Mistress, whom your husband com- 
 missioned to carve your bust" — did he ven- 
 ture to raise them„ 
 
 But if Citaron or the three-headed dog of 
 the nether world had :;ppcared, his face could 
 not have blanched to a deeper pallor nor his 
 breathing become more hiboted than now 
 ;rvhen, raising his eyes, he recognized in Oc- 
 t&vh the Empress, the slave-girl whose charms 
 .mo had been unable to resist in the park. 
 How could he have taken thh woman for a 
 slave ! Where were his eyes ! Did not every 
 feature express dignity and majesty, while her 
 large eyes diffused a melancholy radiance over 
 the whole face ? 
 
 He stood as if he expected e^rery moment 
 to be driven from the palace ; his ears were 
 strained to catch the first word from the beau- 
 tiful woman's lips, but it was long before they 
 uttered a sound. The Empress seemed per- 
 plexed; she had glanced at him with a look of 
 mingled indignation and fear, and, to conceal 
 her embarrassment, whispered a few orders to 
 her maid. Then she seemed striving to sum- 
 mon up her anger. Her lips sought for a stern 
 rebuke, and a line formed in the brow ; but the 
 frown vanished and the harsh v m ds were not 
 
niit, my 
 nd com- 
 I he ven- 
 
 l dog of 
 ice could 
 
 nor his 
 ian now 
 
 in Oc- 
 e charms 
 le park, 
 in for a 
 ot every 
 hiie her 
 ice over 
 
 moment 
 irs were 
 le beau- 
 are they 
 led per- 
 look of 
 conceal 
 -ders to 
 to sum- 
 a stern 
 but the 
 ere not 
 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 spoken. Again several uncomfortable mo- 
 ments passed. At last she summoned courage 
 to ask : « What is your name ? " endeavoring 
 to display in her manner a majestic coldness, 
 in which she succeeded so ill that the con- 
 sciousness embarrassed her, and, angered with 
 herself, she tried to conquer it by repeating 
 more harshly : " What is your name ? " 
 
 Metellus heard nothing except the falling of 
 the fountain. Even the Empress's question 
 had to be twice repeated to him, and he had 
 scarcely attempted to pronounce his name 
 when unconsciously the low exclamation: 
 " Pardon ! " escaped his lips, while at the same 
 moment he sank slowly, reluctantly to his 
 knees, as if the sense of his guilt bore him 
 down. Petronius, for it was he who, standing 
 beside Octavia's chair, had presented the artist, 
 fixed his keen eyes upon those of the Empress,' 
 who, touched by the youth's sudden, humble 
 kneeling, was struggling for composure. The 
 beauty, the childlike submissiveness of his 
 drooping figure, touched her strangely; for 
 several minutes she gazed at him as if lost in 
 thought, and only released herself from the 
 spell by a violent effort. 
 
 " Rise, Metellus," she said, in a tone waver- 
 ing between command and compassion. 
 
 IS7 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 " Noble lady," Petronius began, " this is 
 
 really a strange, surprising scene " 
 
 But the Empress, hastily summoning all 
 her strength of will, interrupted his astonished 
 questions with an almost stern voice that for- 
 bade any interference. 
 
 " 1 had left my attendants 'in the palace," 
 she said very gravely, " to read my Virgil in 
 the grotto of Neptune undisturbed. A stone 
 struck me, and when I looked around, this 
 youth was hurrying from behind the shrub- 
 bery, very much startled to find that, instead 
 of the sparrow which he had intended to drive 
 away, he had hit a woman. This is the story 
 of our acquaintance, Petronius." 
 
 Metellus rose, and his grateful glance ex- 
 pressed so much to the inventor of this fable 
 that she was compelled to assume a still sterner 
 expression. Petronius coughed ?r,d smiled 
 behind his hand; whether he believed the 
 story or not could not be decided. 
 
 " I do not venture to oppose my husband," 
 said Octavia, "or I should most firmly request 
 that he would not have me modelled. I 
 have never taken pleasure in works of plastic 
 art, and have no desire to see myself as a 
 statue." 
 
 Metellus shrank as he heard these cold 
 
 158 
 
 
 t 
 r 
 r 
 a 
 
"th 
 
 IS IS 
 
 •ning all 
 tonished 
 that for- 
 
 palace," 
 Virgil in 
 A stone 
 nd, this 
 : shrub- 
 , instead 
 to drive 
 le story 
 
 nee ex- 
 is fable 
 sterner 
 smiled 
 'ed the 
 
 sband," 
 request 
 ;d. I 
 plastic 
 f as a 
 
 e cold 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 words, he did not perceive what this com- 
 posure concealed. Nor did he see the smile 
 with which Petronius answered that he did not 
 believe the Emperor would give up having his 
 wife s bust made. 
 
 ' " Well then, be it so," replied Octavia; "my 
 husband knows that I am his slave in all 
 things." 
 
 She rose with dignified calmness, saying that 
 the artist might commence his work the next 
 day dismissed both men with a gracious wave 
 of the hand and as she turned away, again cast 
 at Metellus, who was passing through the 
 doorway, one of those half wondering, half 
 haughty glances which the youth knew not 
 how to interpret, though they absorbed liis 
 imagination. As soon as Petronius and his 
 companion had left the room, the young Em- 
 press threw herself wearily upon the couch by 
 the basin of the fountain which, shaded by all 
 sorts of leaf-plants and palms, and surrounded 
 by a delicate glittering spray, afforded a pleas- 
 ant refuge during the noontide heat. 
 
 The fountain seemed to be talking to itself- 
 the same refrain issued from the jaws of the 
 marble lion. « Hypocrisy, hypocrisy, hypoc- 
 risy . 1 his was the word that murmured 
 and rustled through the dreamy magnificence 
 
 159 
 
 ihi 
 
 '4 
 
if 
 
 m 1 '• 
 
 i' i 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 of this apartment, at whose rear the leafage of 
 the park glowed in the most brilliant sunshine 
 between the pillars of the royal chamber; but 
 here a cool twiligijc pievailed, through which 
 the gilding on the walls and ceilings cast faint 
 reflections. 
 
 An old slave-woman was busied in cleaning 
 the plants and dusting with a peacock's tail 
 the statues which adorned the basin, a task 
 which she performed sullenly. At a gesture 
 from the Empress, she began, somewhat sulk- 
 ily, to unfold the roll that lay on the table 
 and commenced reading aloud an e-^ay by 
 Seneca. The words fell coldly and monoto- 
 nously on the marble walls of the room ; both 
 substance and delivery were as chilling as the 
 marble itself The fountain plashed merrily 
 as if mocking the hollow-sounding phrases 
 about virtue: "Hypocrisy, hypocrisy!" it 
 murmured ceaseK ,sly. 
 
 (.'ctaviu sometimes closed her eyes or re- 
 pressed a yawn; she was evidently occupied, 
 not v,]d. the philosopher's thoughts, but with 
 her own. To whom could she confide ihem ? 
 Whom could she <,.5i:? She could confess 
 her sufferings r ily to herself: the world that 
 surrounded t'^ gi of twenty was as hard 
 and unfeeling the walls of this apartment. 
 
 i6o 
 
 ll 
 
 it I 
 
 
:afage of 
 sunshine 
 3er; but 
 h which 
 ast faint 
 
 cleaning 
 ck's tail 
 , a task 
 gesture 
 at sulk- 
 \e table 
 "!ay by 
 nonoto- 
 i ; both 
 l as the 
 merrily 
 phrases 
 /I" it 
 
 or re- 
 
 cupied, 
 It with 
 them ? 
 :onfess 
 d that 
 ! hard 
 tment. 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 Yes, yonder fountain had a right to its sar- 
 castic laughter. What did this luxury of 
 existence the title of Empress, bestow upon 
 her? The parrot yonder in its gilded cage 
 was happier than she; she would expect those 
 marble statues to have warm hearts in their 
 bosoms sooner than the courtiers who obse- 
 quiously surround. her. True, she loved 
 Britannicus, but how rarely she was permitted 
 to enjoy the pleasure of his companionship, 
 i he Caesar did not like to have the brother 
 and sister associate, his suspicious nature kept 
 them apart. Besides, she knew that her 
 brother's days were numbered, that snares were 
 set for her own life, and her foes only wnited 
 for an opportunity to make her disappear in 
 some unnoticed manner from the stage of life 
 is certainty of her fate, the consciousness 
 that she only lingered in the upper world 
 like a shade forgotten by Charon, lessened 
 her interest in her brother's destiny; she re- 
 garded him as one of the departed, 'vhose 
 death had already been mourned and on 
 whose funeral urn the hot cheek might some- 
 times be cooled with quiet resignation. She 
 really never pondered over her own situation ; 
 she lived like the shepherd in the mountains 
 who has become accustomed to sleep on the 
 " i6i 
 
 liiii 
 
n 
 
 < ■; 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 edge of a precipice. She did not know the 
 meaning of love, fidelity, devotion. Nero, 
 whom she had once loved, she learned to 
 despise on their bridal night. Even then 
 she had repulsed his mad caresses, and she 
 was the only person who before that time 
 had recognized the brute beneath the youth's 
 winning exterior. She had uttered words 
 which she knew that he could never forget; 
 and whenever he had made advances to her, 
 she had treated him with such cold contempt 
 that his love was finally transformed into 
 implacable hatred. Her sole comfort and 
 refreshment she found in her favoritQ authors, 
 and her mind, estranged from life, had ven- 
 tured even to the works of Plato. The 
 young Empress especially admired the writ- 
 ings of Socrates, and many of the words of 
 this wisest of mortals echoed in the evening, 
 before she lay down to rest, like a prayer in 
 the recesses of her soul. Her passions had 
 received so little sustenance, had been so 
 intimidated by her husband's conduct, her 
 father's death, her mother's life, that her 
 nature was believed to be gentle, which was 
 by no means true. Beneath the apathetic 
 coldness Fate compelled her to display, slept 
 glowing yearnings for life. The quiet compo- 
 
 162 
 
now the 
 Nero, 
 irned to 
 en then 
 and she 
 lat time 
 ; youth's 
 I words 
 ' forget ; 
 to her, 
 ontenipt 
 ed into 
 brt and 
 authors, 
 id ven- 
 . The 
 he writ- 
 ords of 
 evening, 
 rayer in 
 ons had 
 been so 
 ict, her 
 lat her 
 lich was 
 pathetic 
 ly, slept 
 compo- 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 sure which she had acquired by the study of 
 philosophy and poetry had often been shaken 
 by the daily spectacle of a profligate court, 
 although her refined nature turned with loath- 
 ing from all dissolute orgies. Her character 
 could truthfully be called pure and noble, but 
 her yearning for happiness had often whis- 
 pered : "Enjoy the remnant of your existence " 
 — and only a certain a-sthetic modesty, and 
 the circumstance that as yet she had met no 
 one who was capable of ir piring her with 
 lastmg regard, had prevented her from yield- 
 ing to these whispers. It was one of her 
 peculiarities to create, by her vivid imagination, 
 a swiftly formed ideal image of the persons 
 whom she met, -an image whose radiance, 
 after a brief period, was destroyed by inexor- 
 able reality. 
 
 So, hitherto, she had been cured of on- 
 enthusiasm by another; all had proved vain 
 delusions; the head of Jupiter had always 
 changed into a grinning- faun. She had now 
 grown more distrustful, it is true, yet what 
 can the voice of reason do against the capti- 
 vating charm of imagination .? Even the most 
 bitter scorn of mankind, which at times ruled 
 her mind, did not release her from her 
 delusion. 
 
 163 
 
 If 
 
 it it 
 lit' it 
 
< I 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 While still absorbed in her reverie, she felt 
 two brown arms suddenly embrace her. Her 
 favorite slave, Meroe, an ugly, idiotic Egyp- 
 tian, had glided up to the couch during the 
 reading, and tried to play one of her usual 
 foolish tricks by dealing her mistress a blow 
 on the shoulder to kill a fly. This slave-girl, 
 with her hanging lips, flat nose, and perpetu- 
 ally cheerfui, mindless expression, could ven- 
 ture to do almost anything. Octavia pitied 
 the undeveloped, good-natured creature, was 
 often amused by her meaningless chatter, and 
 sometimes permitted her to see her tears. 
 Then she at least had one human being who 
 asked the cause of her sorrow, and, when she 
 made no answer, began to weep with her with- 
 out knowing why. Meroe sank down on the 
 floor, pulled at the fringes of the cushions, and 
 clasped her mistresj's hand, while, with the 
 other, she pressed her long hair to her thick" 
 lips. 
 
 '' How beautiful he is, is n't he ? " she whis- 
 pered, while the old woman went on reading 
 Seneca. 
 
 Octavia started from her dream, looked at 
 the Egyptian in astonishment, and asked: 
 " Whom do you mean ? " 
 
 "Oh, I watched," the slave-girl answered. 
 
 164 
 
 mill 
 
 I I 
 
;, she felt 
 er. Her 
 ic Egyp- 
 jring the 
 ier usual 
 3S a blow 
 slave-girl, 
 perpetu- 
 mld ven- 
 na. pitied 
 ture, was 
 itter, and 
 ler tears, 
 eing who 
 when she 
 her with- 
 n on the 
 lions, and 
 with the 
 her thick" 
 
 she whis- 
 1 reading 
 
 ooiced at 
 1 asked : 
 
 inswered. 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 (( 
 
 I was s anding there behind the curtain, and 
 t seemea as though I was in the temple of 
 Isis and the pnestesses were beating the kem- 
 kem, and my senses were intoxicated by the 
 
 p. lars. Oh, how happy J was, my Mistrfss 
 
 Ssi'ri °:„dT" "' ''. '"' "°" ''='"'^"' '"- 
 sound: i Z '"r'^' >'" g™"^' his voice 
 sounds. It ,s l,ke the night wind rustling the 
 papyrus reeds by the Nile. Do you hear^ow 
 .t murmurs; do you see how the heron mZ 
 with steady wings above the waves ;> '■ 
 
 Octavia understood that the slave-girl meant 
 Metellus, and, blushing, stroked the poor fool" 
 hair back from her forehead. 
 
 " You are right, Meroe, he is beautiful " 
 
 she murmured dreamily, ga.i„g down at her. 
 
 And good, whispered the Egyptian. 
 
 Octav,a nodded, and held her hand in the 
 
 jet of the fountam, so that the fans of the 
 
 palms quivered under the splashh.g drops. 
 
 " hei : .''''' "^' ^'"^-g'^' *ent on, 
 he looked at me, his eyes flamed like the 
 
 n>.rror of the Nile when the sun floods it wth 
 1 mh " •/ ^™'"8 *"" '- through my 
 I:cherme'^>"'^-'^°^"'^''-«had' 
 " At you ? " 
 
 i6s 
 
 
iti L 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 " Yes, when I was standing behind the cur- 
 tain he noticed me," said the girl, smiling and, 
 striking her nude, hideous bosom, she contin- 
 tinued : " Oh, he loves me ! I feel it here, 
 here — " 
 
 The Empress could scarcely help smiling as 
 she heard this artless confession, but with her 
 amusement mingled a sense of bitterness that 
 startled her. Yet she forced herself to make 
 a pleasant answer. 
 
 " Aha ! Then you might soon have a wed- 
 ding," she said ; " I '11 give you a red veil, and 
 order flute-players." 
 
 "You saw it too, did n't you," cried the girl, 
 greatly excited ; " you saw that Sechet, the 
 goddess of love, favors us ? " 
 
 "Of course, of course," replied her mistress, 
 compassionately ; and this assurance threw the 
 poor fool into such a rapture of joy that, un.- 
 able to find words, she kissed the Empress's 
 hand again and again, often rolling her eyes 
 upward to sink into a reverie. It was one of 
 Meroe's pet fancies to believe that somebody 
 was in love with her. This delusion could 
 never be dislodged, and she changed the ob- 
 ject of her afl-'ection every week. Sometimes 
 it was a soldier who sought her ; sometimes a 
 slave, frequently even a patrician official. No 
 
 1 66 
 
 d 
 
 mi 
 
 II 
 
 w c 
 
d the cur- 
 iling and, 
 le contin- 
 1 it here, 
 
 smiling as 
 with her 
 
 rness that 
 to make 
 
 ,ve a wed- 
 1 veil, and 
 
 d the girl, 
 ^chet, the 
 
 r mistress, 
 threw the 
 ' that, un- 
 Empress's 
 ; her eyes 
 ^as one of 
 somebody 
 ion could 
 d the ob- 
 5ometimes 
 metimes a 
 icial. No 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 doubt the fool sometimes suspected that she 
 was being made the butt of coarse jests ; but 
 this did not prevent her from continually 
 falling in love, or from loving most ardently 
 the very men who most inhumanly insulted 
 her. 
 
 Octavia closed her eyes; she did not hear 
 the words of the reader or the plashing of the 
 fountain ; she suddenly felt transported to the 
 gardens and, for an instant, beheld, as if in a 
 dream, the sleeping youth, the dazzling sun- 
 light shining upon the water in the basin, 
 the tender touch of his hand on her 
 cheek ; then she started up, sighing, — the 
 sunlight had vanished, the cool dusk made her 
 shiver, the fountain plashed monotonously. 
 She gazed wonderingly around the chilly apart- 
 ment, blushing as vividly as though some 
 watcher had known her secret thoughts. 
 
 Now she tried to listen to Seneca's wise 
 maxims, and for a time succeeded, until gradu- 
 ally some strange, diverting idea began to asso- 
 ciate itself with every precept of the philosopher. 
 Her own thoughts mingled with his, just as 
 the ornaments twined about the masks of the 
 wainscoting. More than once she raised her 
 head toward the azure opening in the ceiling, 
 or watched the play of the sunbeams in the 
 
 167 
 
 .^1 
 

 m i ^ 
 
 Li 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 1 
 
 ; 
 
 m I 
 
 water in the basin of the fountain with a sense 
 of pleasure, an expansion of the soul which, 
 hitherto, she had never known. The brilliant 
 blue above the dusky room, the dancing gold 
 on the ripples in the basin, suddenly roused in 
 her a longing for the pleasures of life which, as 
 she saw herself barred from them on all sides, 
 wakened an emotion nearer to tears than to 
 smiles. Meroe's words : « How beautiful he 
 is ! " were still echoing in her ears, when the 
 reader stopped, a slave entered the room and 
 announced that the Cassar would visit her 
 immediately. 
 
 The Empress rose slowly, and, though she 
 mentally asked herself in great perplexity how 
 It happened that Nero, who had so long 
 shunned her, suddenly again sued for her friend- 
 ship, nothing could be detected in her manner 
 except the apathetic indifference which she had 
 intentionally endeavored to assume. Was he 
 weary of Sabina.? Or was his kindness the 
 surest sign of her approaching destruction ? 
 Yet Octavia knew that he dared not harm her, 
 so long as she remained the favorite of the 
 people. Her female attendants, who were 
 much excited by the rare event of a visit from 
 the Cassar, were ordered, with a sternness very 
 unusual in her, not to prepare in any way for 
 
 i68 
 
 u 
 
a sense 
 
 I which, 
 brilliant 
 ng gold 
 oused in 
 ^hich, as 
 
 II sides, 
 than to 
 tiful he 
 hen the 
 'om and 
 isit her 
 
 Jgh she 
 ity how 
 !o long 
 • friend- 
 manner 
 ihe had 
 Vas he 
 ess the 
 iction ? 
 •m her, 
 of the 
 ' were 
 it from 
 is very 
 /ay for 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 his reception, not even to put on better gar- 
 ments. She herself did not move from her 
 place and, though a feeling of anxious fear 
 weighed upon her heart, the expression of in- 
 difference, more offensive than open scorn, did 
 not leave her features for an instant. 
 
 The curtain, at the door rustled back, two 
 guards appeared, and the C^sar, attended by a 
 numerous train, slowly approached the thresh- 
 old. He wore a very simple flowered mantle, 
 tor he had heard that artists usually neglect 
 their personal appearance, only his hair, on 
 which the laurel wreath rested, had been care- 
 fully curled. A smile of assumed graciousness 
 rested on his fat face ; but when his wife rose 
 with cold dignity from her couch, the smile 
 gave place to an almost foolish expression of 
 timidity and distrust. 
 
 The courtiers formed a group, and the 
 Caesar advanced toward Octavia, who awaited 
 him with downcast eyes, as if in a half dream. 
 Perhaps, for the first time in his life, this god 
 upon earth experienced a feeling of embarrass- 
 ment, and, extremely perplexed by the new 
 sensation, turned toward Petronius. The 
 latter, however, took a malicious pleasure in 
 remaining silent, and Nero, dissatisfied with 
 himself, awkwardly began to stammer a few 
 
 169 
 
 mm 
 
h 
 
 4A*li 
 
 t s 
 
 It f 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 questions to Octavia, asking how she lived 
 and whether she wanted anything, — perhaps 
 a new litter, new slaves, a better bath, choicer 
 viands. 
 
 Octavia shook her head at each query, and 
 not until he finally asked in what way he could 
 serve her did she raise her large eyes to his, 
 saying : " By permitting me, undisturbed, to 
 mourn my father's death." 
 
 Nero, who had always been classed with the 
 murderers of Claudius, started, evidendy strug- 
 gling to maintain his composure, and, repressing 
 his rage with difficulty, said to those who sur- 
 rounded him, — 
 
 " I came to offer her my hand in reconcil- 
 iation ; you all see how she receives me." 
 
 Burrus, who stood nearest to Octavia, bent 
 toward the woman sitting with so indifferent an 
 air. 
 
 " August lady," he whispered, " use the 
 opportunity to save your life ; his intentions 
 are kind ; be gentle, and you may reconcile 
 him." 
 
 Then, turning to the Caesar with a pleasant 
 smile, he said aloud : " Do not leave your wife 
 in anger, oh, Caesar ! She will fulfil your wishes 
 if you ask her to do so." 
 
 All eyes were bent upon Nero, who instantly 
 
 170 
 
 
she lived 
 - perhaps 
 h, choicer 
 
 uery, and 
 
 he could 
 
 es to his, 
 
 urbed, to 
 
 I with the 
 itly strug- 
 •epressing 
 who sur- 
 
 reconcil- 
 ne." 
 
 Lvia, bent 
 fFerent an 
 
 ' u«e the 
 ntentions 
 reconcile 
 
 pleasant 
 ^our wife 
 ar wishes 
 
 instantly 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 perceived how greatly he might profit by 
 Octavia's defiant silence and pose as a martyr 
 to feminine caprices. 
 
 " Well then," he answered with feigned hu- 
 mility, "you know, Octavia, that I once 
 knew how to value your beauty, and that it 
 would make me happy, on every account, to 
 win your heart, at least as far as decorum com- 
 mands. Let us at any rate appear before the 
 Roman people as husband and wife." 
 
 Nero turned to Petronius. 
 ^^ « If she promises to obey me," he whispered, 
 I really feel disposed to give up the whole 
 plan which was to cause her destruction." 
 
 Petronius started. Although well aware that 
 Nero was uttering a falsehood, in order to de- 
 ceive even his most intimate friends and in- 
 crease the excitement of the scene, he thought 
 It possible that Octavia's beauty might again 
 exert its former power of attraction over the 
 Kmperor's unstable heart. His object was to 
 place Poppasa upon the throne; Octavia must 
 be overthrown at any cost, and now her position 
 appeared more secure than ever. Nero, who 
 was immensely pleased with the theatrical 
 pathos of the situation, resolved to render the 
 comedy still more effective. He now turned 
 to his train, and, coquetting with his negligent 
 
 171 
 
 4 
 
 111 
 
r,. 
 
 P 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 attire, intimated that he had no more ardent 
 desire than to be permitted to press the kiss of 
 reconciliation upon his wife's lips. But when 
 Octavia perceived his intention, she involun- 
 tarily clenched her hands, and rose as if to seek 
 refuge in flight. All expected to hear some 
 scathing reply from her lips, and the Emperor 
 was already preparing to reccjve it with noble 
 resignation by seeking to give his features the 
 expression of an innocent sufferer. Octavia, 
 however, as soon as she noticed this look on 
 her husband's face, resolved — difficult as the 
 task might be — to outwit the crafty hypocrite 
 and conceal her scorn. 
 
 " My husband," she said, with unmistakable 
 sarcasm, " my husband, what need is there of 
 any tokens of affection from you ; I know that 
 you love me. Is not the attention you show 
 by ordering my bust a proof of it ? Oh, I 
 understand how to appreciate this evidence of 
 your regard, although, to speak frankly, nothing 
 is more distasteful than to see myself as a 
 marble ghost Yet since it is your wish to 
 possess me doubly,— dead and alive, — I will 
 make this sacrifice for your sake. Yes ! How 
 could I longer resist such devotion ! Come ! 
 Let us show the Roman people that we live in 
 the most affectionate harmony, and that you 
 
 172 
 
 II 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 are very far from wishing to divorce me for the 
 sake of another. I know that is slander." 
 
 If it had been difficult for her to dissimulate, 
 the embarrassment and wrath visible in the 
 Caesar's features now repaid her for the effort. 
 Had she met him with repellent pride, as she 
 had so often done before, he would have 
 emerged this time from the conflict as victor • 
 but he was not prepared for this amiable malice 
 on the part of the haughty sufi^erer. A spite- 
 ful glance, which she returned by a contemptu- 
 ous smile, rebuked her boldness in spoiling the 
 imperial actor's beautiful farewell scene and 
 embarrassing him in the presence of his train. 
 
 " See that the bust is finished soon," he an- 
 swered sullenly; "do you hear.? I want it 
 quickly — " 
 
 ^ Here he interrupted himself, and, as his ris- 
 ing wrath at the failure of his farce must have 
 some outlet, he shouted to the slave who stood 
 nearest to him, and, without any apparent cause 
 dealt him several blows as he left the room 
 On reaching the threshold, he supported him- 
 self on the shoulders of some freedmen, and 
 called to his wife that he would ijave their 
 mutual reconciliation announced in the '' Daily 
 Informer " of the Roman people ; but she must 
 attend at once to the modelling of her bust, as 
 
 173 
 
lit i' •? 
 
 vj!i/*f? 
 
 -it 
 
 7F J 
 
 If I 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 he intended to have it placed in his sleeping 
 room with great ceremony, and had already 
 composed an elaborate piece of music for the 
 festival. Then, bending toward Petronius as 
 he passed him, he muttered, — 
 
 " See that we have proofs as soon as pos- 
 sible ; my patience is exhausted." 
 
 Petronius attempted to veply that several 
 months must elapse before the end could be 
 reached; but Nero retorted: "1 will wait no 
 longer than the Saturnalia. Your head is pre- 
 cisely as firm as my wife's." 
 
 Petronius compressed his lips, and remained 
 silent. 
 
 When the room was empty the Empress, 
 radiant with the consciousness of victory, 
 kissed her slave Meroe, who, having no under- 
 standing of what had happened, received the 
 caress with a silly smile. Octavia felt that she 
 had given the Caesar this answer under the 
 influence of a higher power. Without fully 
 realizing it, she imagined that an apparition to 
 which she forbade herself to give a name, had 
 witnessed the scene of Nero's humiliation with 
 her. Her whole being still thrilled with the 
 strange perception that his spirit was standing at 
 her side, expressing his approval, which she 
 accepted with a smile. 
 
 174 
 
\ 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 "Did 1 act worthily ? " she would fain have 
 asked him; "did 1 please you?" True as 
 she leaned back on her cushions and clo'sed 
 her eyes, beneath whose lids tea vere steal 
 ing, her throbbing heart told he .t she had 
 enraged the lion and defied his paws to deal 
 the destroying blow; but with this conscious- 
 ness of approaching death blended a sense of 
 qinet happiness She felt so safe; she knew 
 hat her funeral pyre would soon blaze, and 
 thus felt secure. Something hovered around 
 her, she did not reflect what it might be 
 Was ,t the perfume of an individual, the subtle 
 aroma exhaling from the personality of a beau- 
 tiful, beloved human being which intoxicates 
 us and, even against our will, we inhale more 
 and moi-e eagerly until it becomes like the 
 breath of life? 
 
 Toward evening, the leech Andromachus 
 visited the Empress. The sun was casting its 
 crimson radiance through the opening in the 
 roof into the sleeping room; outside the pines 
 were rustling in the breeze before the window 
 and their broad tops were suffused by the tints of 
 the sunset sky The physician's eyes looked 
 grave, as he felt Octavia's pulse, and said,- 
 
 Ihere ,s something going on; beware, 
 august lady. * 
 
 ^75 
 
 ?t*f 
 

 t^ 
 
 e>. 
 
 
 IMAGE EVALUATION 
 TEST TARGET (MT-3) 
 
 1.0 ^ ^^ 
 
 iJi 
 11.25 
 
 ^ ti& III 2.0 
 
 ia 
 
 i± 11.6 
 
 ^' 
 
 // 
 
 .^/ 
 
 
 
 w^ 
 
 y. 
 
 Z- 
 
 
 v] 
 
 <^ 
 
 /^ 
 
 y; 
 
 ^> 
 
 
 
 // 
 
 
 # 
 
 Sciences 
 Corporation 
 
 23 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, N.Y. 14SC0 
 
 (716) 872-4503 
 
 L1>^ 
 
 iV 
 
 "Q 
 
 \\ 
 
 ^9>' 
 
 
 
 A 
 
 a,^ '-A. <* 
 
 -<*J?! 
 
 

 
 W.r 
 
 i/s 
 
 t 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 Octavia nodded. The leech released her 
 arm, stepped back frowning, and continued : 
 
 " I wished to speak to you." 
 
 She smiled mechanically, her thoughts were 
 evidently elsewhere. 
 
 "vv'ill you listen to me, august lady?" 
 Andromachus began again. 
 
 " Pray go on," she replied. 
 
 " Perhaps I am interrupting you — if I have 
 come at an inconvenient time — " 
 
 "No! Stay! Speak," the Empress an- 
 s^vered the hesitating man. "I am absent- 
 minded, am I not? But pardon me." 
 
 "I have to give you thj last greetings of 
 your brother Britannicus," said Andromachus, 
 very gravely. 
 
 " He is dead," cried Octavia. 
 
 The leech bowed his head. 
 
 "He is dead," murmured the Empress, 
 dreamily. Andromachus tried to say a few 
 consoling words to the mourner; but she gazed 
 fixedly into vacancy, without heeding him, and 
 did not appear to need consolation. The phy- 
 sician left her. In fact, she scarcely did need 
 consolation. She had expected her brother's 
 death for years, and now that it had come and 
 she was entirely alone, she felt free, independ- 
 ent, strong. Doubtless she was aiigry with 
 
 176 
 
leased her 
 )ntinued : 
 
 Jghts were 
 
 3t lady?" 
 
 - if I have 
 
 ipress an- 
 n absent- 
 ee." 
 
 actings of 
 romachus, 
 
 Empress, 
 Jay a few 
 she gazed 
 
 him, and 
 The phy- 
 
 did need 
 
 brother's 
 come and 
 independ- 
 igry with 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 herself that she had no tears, nay, that a pas- 
 sionate yearning for unchecked pleasure strove 
 to stir withm her soul; but she would have 
 deemed herself less heartless had she realized 
 more distinctly that this impulse was the same 
 emotion experienced by the animal-fighter 
 who carouses and loves to-day, knowing%hat 
 the blood-stained arena awaits him on the 
 mcrrow^ Si.e felt that now, for the first time, 
 It was her duty to sip the neglected joys of 
 existence. She had mourned for her brother 
 while ne lived, why should she lament him 
 now that he was released .? No tie bound her • 
 Orcus summoned her early enough; there 
 beJow she would grieve with her brother; here 
 she „,ust hastily gather a store of happiness to 
 take with her to the sad shore 
 
 nJhr'^u""""" ^/[ '^°"^'^'' ^^^"' ^hat same 
 night, she stood beside the body of the mur- 
 dered man. The sight of the beloved form 
 had awakened, instead of grief, a strange feel- 
 mg o^ defiance in the bosom of the desolate 
 girl. She rebelled against the god. who had 
 never been gracious to her; she longed to 
 
 Seld! '''-' ''' ^^PP^"- ^''^^' ^^ey 
 
 Britannicus lay in the spacious hall, as was 
 
 the custom, on a tapestried bier, with his feet 
 
 177 
 
f; 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 ili 
 
 turned toward the door. The face which in 
 life had been so beautiful and gentle was now 
 distorted ; the expression of suffering was fixed 
 upon the livid features. A lamp hung above, 
 whose dim, bluish ligiit fell mournfully upon 
 him, leaving the rest of the apartment in dark- 
 ness. The night-breeze, rustling the cypresses 
 outside, sometimes fanned the flanie of the 
 lamp to a brighter glow, sometimes almost 
 extinguished it, then gliding over the marble 
 floor swept over the bier, stirring the locks 
 and fluttering the white toga of the corpse. 
 But it could lend no movement to the rigid 
 features, only the ends of the toga waved as 
 if they would fain bear away the lifeless form. 
 
 Octavia stood motionless ; she longed to be 
 like her brother, yet she ' " ed to live ; she 
 envied his repose, yet fear.. . .l, disdained her 
 fear, and at the same time would fain have 
 had eyes see her that were far away. The 
 rustling of a garment roused her from these 
 conflicting thoughts ; her heart stopped beat- 
 ing, but the eyes that gazed into hers were 
 not those she expected ; Agrippina, the mur- 
 derer's mother, stood before her, with her figure 
 drawn up to its full height, the wrinkles in 
 her face looked waxen in the flickering light. 
 
 " Poor girl," whispered Nero's proud mother, 
 
 178 
 
fi.1 
 
 ivhich in 
 was now 
 vas fixed 
 g above, 
 Ily upon 
 
 in dark- 
 :ypresses 
 : of the 
 J almost 
 J marble 
 lie locks 
 corpse. 
 :he rigid 
 vaved as 
 s form. 
 2d to be 
 ive ; she 
 ined her 
 lin have 
 y. The 
 im these 
 ed beat- 
 ers were 
 he mur- 
 er figure 
 nkles in 
 
 light. 
 
 mother. 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 "the lion has taken his first spring; you will 
 be his second victim." ^ 
 
 She clasped Octavia's hand. 
 " Oh would that I had never borne him • 
 he laughs at us ; he revels while we are weep- 
 ing, the monster. Let us be friends," she 
 added. « The unhappy bear their grief more 
 easily when united ; we will defy him. Or, no 
 not defy him; we have both renounced life." ' 
 If you have done so," replied Octavia, with 
 a bitter, angry smile, « J have not. I shall 
 now begin for the first time, to enjoy it. 
 Who will blame me, since I was alwavs com- 
 pelled to mourn .P If J must sleep as he does, 
 1 will first intoxicate myself. They say that 
 we forget down below- I will not; I will live 
 there on what I have enjoyed here " 
 
 The lamp flickered as if in pain ; sometimes 
 the hall ,3 p^rf^^^jy ^^^^^ sometimes flashing 
 with light. Agrippina did not understand the 
 young Empress, as, shivering, with a strange 
 sm.Ie on her flushed cheeks, she wrapped her- 
 self in her mantle. Then she closed her eyes 
 and her parted lips quivered over her white, 
 clenched teeth. ' 
 
 That very night the funeral pyre of Bri- 
 tannicus blazed upward to the star-strewn sky. 
 
 179 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 METELLUS was very well content with 
 his life in the palace. In his sim- 
 plicity he overlooked the vice that surrounded 
 him, and clung to the beauty which was offered. 
 He set great value upon the flatteries of the 
 courtiers, and did not perceive in the least 
 that there was anything extraordinary in the 
 tavor bestowed upon him by the Caesar, as 
 they asserted; to him, this favor was extremely 
 opportune, but It seemed perfectly natural. 
 True, it happened more than once at table 
 that he did not know how to eat some dish, 
 begged a slave's pardon, or helped himself 
 sooner than etiquette allowed; but v;i -^t mat- 
 tered these little annoyances, which evoked 
 the laughter of the court? They were far 
 outweighed by the favor of the Caesar, who 
 systematically trained him to be a gourmand. 
 
 "Whrtt do you think, Metellus," Nero 
 sometimes said, " suppose we should try a new 
 invention? Purple snails boiled in wine; that 
 
 must be delicious ! " 
 
 1 80 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 itent with 
 
 his sim- 
 irrounded 
 IS offered, 
 es of the 
 
 the least 
 ry in the 
 Caesar, as 
 extremely 
 r natural. 
 ; at table 
 ome dish, 
 i himself 
 r.'l ■'t mat- 
 h evoked 
 
 were far 
 aesar, who 
 urmand. 
 IS," Nero 
 
 try a new 
 wine; that 
 
 Metellus modestly gave his opinion. The 
 goddess of the culinary art avenged herself 
 bitterly for the contempt with which hitherto 
 he had regarded her gifts by forcing him, when 
 he had finished his meals, to confess with 
 shame that, while eating the choicest del- 
 icacies he really had thought of nothing except 
 that they tasted remarkably nice. 
 
 The idealist had quickly accommodated him- 
 self to the customs of the court ; he even learned 
 to bow, and often succeeded in not interrupting 
 a speaker; only one thing was difficult, _ to 
 flatter without cause. He noticed that all 
 who surrounded the C^sar possessed great 
 skill m this art, applauded him frantically 
 whenever he spoke, listened to his every 
 breath, watched him incessantly to find an 
 opportunity to utter a word of praise, and, if 
 he sneezed, commended his health to the gods 
 He also perceived that an omission of these 
 tokens of approval might, under certain cir- 
 cumstances become dangerous; yet he still 
 blushed as he stammered his morning greeting 
 and, when asked to express his opinion con- 
 cerning any of Nero's artistic performances, 
 usually uttered phrases whose awkwardness 
 showed their lack of sincerity 
 
 " My friend," Petronius once said to him 
 
 i8i ' 
 
 ,15 
 
 w 
 
 m 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 when they were leaving a banquet at which 
 the youth had vehemently condemned the 
 Romans' love of fights between animals, " my 
 friend, you have won the Caesar's heart, it is 
 true, but beware. Truth is enjoyable only when 
 it is new, and it very soon grows rusty." 
 
 " But is n't it an abomination," replied the 
 artist, heated by the wine he had drunk, " that 
 sedate men, even cultivated women, find pleas- 
 ure in such spectacles? Did not Sophocles 
 write for the Romans ? " 
 
 "My friend," rejoined Petronius, more 
 kindly than ever, " help yourself over such 
 reflections by means of satire. That is now 
 our consoler, our religion. If you wish to say 
 spiteful things to guests at table, smile as 
 pleasantly as possib' while doing so. Rely 
 upon it, they will think you have flattered 
 them." 
 
 " I don't understand that," replied the son 
 of the Muses. 
 
 One day the artist found the Caesar busied 
 in copying in clay the head of a Venus by 
 Praxiteles. Nero asked him how he had suc- 
 ceeded. Metellus muttered a few unintelligi- 
 ble words, took the modelling stick from the 
 Emperor's hand, and began to re-shape the 
 whole bust. Nero's face darkened more and 
 
 182 
 
at which 
 mned the 
 nals, " my 
 leart, it is 
 only when 
 
 eplied the 
 ink, " that 
 find pleas- 
 Sophocles 
 
 lius, more 
 over such 
 lat is now 
 vish to say 
 , smile as 
 so. Rely 
 e flattered 
 
 id the son 
 
 2sar busied 
 Venus by 
 le had suc- 
 unintelligi- 
 z from the 
 -shape the 
 more and 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 more as he saw his work vanishing under the 
 sculptor s hands, and only the presence of 
 mmd of Petronius succeeded in averting the 
 gathenng storm. The clever courtier de- 
 clared Metellus's work to be the Emperor's 
 and vowed that the artist had not changed a 
 smgle hne. ^ 
 
 Another time the Emperor wished to be 
 drawn with the expression of an enthusiastic 
 smger on his face. 
 
 " But, Metellus," he said, glancing into the 
 cTaTed?''''"^'^ "°' '^'' '"'''' °^ '^' ^'P' b^ 
 He passed his hand across his broad nose 
 as he spoke, to indicate that he did not wish 
 to see the lips, but the nose, idealized in the 
 iikeness. Metellus, to the universal horror of 
 those who were present, declared thu ehe 
 broad nose could not possibly be changed, .hat 
 was exactly what gave the face its character- 
 istic expression. Again the Cesar's eyes 
 sparkled maliciously, and again it was Petronius 
 who protested that the Emperor's nose ought 
 not to be altered on any account. Metellus 
 was perfectly right, it was an ornament to his 
 whole face; every Roman was proud of this 
 feature of his sovereign. The others assented, 
 and Nero believed the majority. 
 
 183 
 

 Empress Octavia 
 
 
 tt 
 
 If fi 
 
 I am no longer pleased with the youth," 
 Nero had said to his director of the festivals ; 
 "it is time to use the tool, that we may get rid 
 of him as we dealt with Britannicus." 
 
 At the end of a month the day at last came 
 when the Empress sat to the artist for the 
 first time. She had adorned herself as magnif- 
 icently as possible, then, before he entered the 
 room, removed the jewels and, after reflecting 
 a short time, put them on again. A change, 
 which she vainly endeavored to conceal from 
 her attendants, had taken place in the young 
 sovereign. Octavia, who was formerly so reso- 
 lute, had become undecided, a variable man- 
 ner of life, a carelessness in everything and 
 to every one had now become the habit of one 
 once so determined. She neglected the gods ; 
 some mental conflict often seemed to absorb 
 her so completely that the external world 
 scarcely existed. Already she had three times 
 declared that she was ill, and thus deferred the 
 sittings. Whenever Metellus had asked for 
 one, he had always been refused ; yet she 
 longed to meet him, to fill her monotonous 
 existence with his companionship. She knew 
 from her philosophers the transitoriness of all 
 worldly pleasures ; but she wished to test these 
 pleasures, and yet, before yielding to her pas- 
 
 184 
 
e youth," 
 
 festivals ; 
 
 ay get rid 
 
 last came 
 It for the 
 s magnif- 
 itered the 
 reflecting 
 L change, 
 :eal from 
 iie young 
 y so reso- 
 ble man- 
 hing and 
 )it of one 
 :he gods ; 
 o absorb 
 al world 
 ree times 
 erred the 
 Lsked for 
 
 yet she 
 notonous 
 he knew 
 iss of all 
 :est these 
 
 her pas- 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 sionate impulse, she was forced to conquer her 
 .^het. sense of modesty, her whole t^^ 
 and this was more difficult to the delicate 
 natured woman than she had imagined 
 
 But a month is a long time to a youthful 
 heart, and so the artist's imagination had b" 
 
 charms. Besides, he had met at the Emperor's 
 court far more beautiful women who made a 
 ve y different use of their attractions, whose 
 boldness often repelled him, yet, neve theless 
 
 the dances which unveiled every physi d 
 
 esm these beauties. So it was not strange 
 hat he was tolerably composed when, pr! 
 ceded by a slave bearing a mass of day ^ he 
 entered the Empress's apartments. He was 
 clad in a plain, sleeveless garment, smikd in a 
 
 stTck on L "V. T '" "'^ '^' "'^delling 
 Octavia gazed at him with a feeling of dis 
 
 sirr; h '': '-' -^ -pposed^hlt t:: 
 
 mind would have been so little freed from the 
 
 scene m the garden left no deeper traces.' 
 
 i8S 
 
If! 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 Childlike people very speedily forget the ex- 
 pressions of their unconscious variations of 
 mood; yet this very innocent security formed 
 a fresh attraction. Did he not feel that she 
 had wound the rope of pearls through her 
 dark locks that day on his account ? Had he 
 no eyes for the grace with which she tried to 
 move ? Alas ! She had never learned coquetry, 
 and could make no impression with her modest 
 ornaments. ' • 
 
 Metellus did not utter a single word while 
 at his work, but gracefully pressed the clay 
 with his beautiful hand, and sometimes glanced 
 hastily at his model's profile. Poor Meroe sat 
 at her mistress's feet, watching the sculptor, 
 whose calm absorption greatly awed her, in 
 silent rapture. Often, while changing a faulty 
 line, the youth's lips moved as if he were 
 reproving himself, and his face often brightened 
 when he succeeded in obtaining the right con- 
 tour ; otherwise he did not seem to be aware 
 of the presence of any other person in the 
 room*; he kneaded the clay with the same in- 
 difference as if he stood before a marble head. 
 
 During the preceding days, the Empress had 
 adorned the youth's image from her own 
 imagination, decked it with every mental 
 charm, and expected to enjoy Olympus upon 
 
 i86 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 earth during her quiet life with him Sh ^'a 
 not intend to be to him u ^^ '^''^ 
 
 was only in name i eh' Er7nr! ".'"' '""^ 
 behavior did not harT^oit^in :h:" e T 't 
 her expectations H„ ".'" '"e least with 
 
 had tlbb d Lt r^lrr^'l^' ^" l^^'" 
 that she again aw h'^ I 7 '''" ''"'"S'"^'! 
 
 revealing if f« u- "^'P'^^ssed her soul by 
 
 '"^^llMl daU't?"''^'"^ °"^'— ^ 
 
 Like all Ih bl '? r """ '0 •"■"> •' 
 women, she had Vxpected th t K '""P?"™"'' 
 her ardently melt n„H u '" *°"''' «'•« 
 
 ifsheexten'dedhtha'Lo :■'»■"' '''' ''^X 
 cherished the fervent l°th:L"'' t '"'' 
 quer her scruples, putlrend r K "" '^ '°"" 
 fulfil her eager hone In f ''""^g''^'' 
 
 Pletely abso'rbed r himself"Tnd h"" "T" 
 Yet she yearned to find one drop th" ™"'- 
 m the bottom of her cud nf Z^ h'^PPmess 
 
 on earth for her was over 'tCooT"^ 
 must indeed resist- hZ ,u ? °' '"'"' 
 
 -stc <,„„tht:;sist:.:„d"'i;\rr 
 ttiir;:' fnd tf :r ^ -"'Vr::: 
 
 goas, and that they would approve; 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 now the gods had again deceived her, her 
 thirsting soul must continue to languish. 
 
 She sat lost in thought, with her tearful eyes 
 fixed intently upon the ripples in the basin of 
 the fountain, pondering over her wasted life, 
 and longing for the hour which would end all 
 these hopes, conflicts, and passions. The 
 patch of blue sky above the basin had 
 gradually flushed with the hues of sunset; 
 Metellus wished to finish his model's brow 
 before it grew perfectly dark. The task began 
 to defy his talent, for it was not easy to catch 
 the expression in this woman's face; already he 
 had failed thrice in producing the individual 
 look that pervaded the whole countenance, and 
 wrath at his lack of skill was visible in his 
 frowning brows and the vehement movements 
 of his hands. The flush on his cheeks and 
 the restlessness of his glowing eyes also indi- 
 cated his extreme dissatisfaction with himself 
 He was so anxious to gain honor by this work ; 
 his august patron must be convinced of his 
 talent. 
 
 Suddenly he exclaimed angrily: "That 
 won't do ; higher ! Hold your head higher ! " 
 and, without waiting for his command to be 
 obeyed, he approached Octavia, seized her 
 somewhat rudely by the chin, pressed his other 
 
 i88 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 stillnes. of the A Jet ^if .'"'^""P^" ">« 
 ^^nkd : then, as the ™n V K "P/"'^ ''""^ 
 arm moved direct v?,/ u ''^^unfully formed 
 
 ='"d sat motionless and ri2^\u ' ''°^'""' 
 manner in which I h,„ji j , ' ^ careless 
 
 belonged to atoode;djffi,!d''r''''^'^" 
 strange humility ' '"* ''e'- *ith a 
 
 Hertss'Ll-n/sr; "^ '-"''<'''>■. - 
 checic the heavingofhe '^h "^'''■'' '" '^^ '<> 
 holding her chinl h fh tnT- ."^ ""^"'' 
 ".■sed her large eyes ^th u^h'a ' "k °"^"' 
 wondenng gaze, he awoke from th f""'"'^' 
 work which had n I , ^^^ ^^ver of 
 
 ^^'-hingdeepineZaj-Bed hj„. 
 
 h.s arms fall at his side and in^K^''' '"'"§ 
 stood motionless for a m^m ' ?i. '^''"■'"''^• 
 "atue. How strangely he felt T ''?'""'"' 
 ■"fl"ence of a suddVspell wh ^^ ""'''^ ""^ 
 woman covered her .ll '^ r ''" ^'"^ "-oyal 
 hand, as if to conceal' tT'"^A " *"'' ''^^ ««'« 
 overwhelmed him -i. h„ ',1, T^" "Compassion 
 
 '-ness had ts \Ve'°t?,l'''^' ''';: '>«<'- 
 ">e"t which, with the most int ^mbarrass- 
 
 -deavored to hide from' C^T'J' t 
 
 189 ^ ^^ ^e 
 
 I 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 returned to his clay model, he felt as if he had 
 tortured the gentle Empress, who was still 
 struggling with her emotions. How pallid and 
 corpse-like her face still looked ; terror clutched 
 his heart-strings. " What have you done ? " 
 cried a voice in his soul. If he had killed her, 
 the pang in his breast could scarcely have been 
 keener. 
 
 At last Octavia recovered her composure, 
 and told M eroe to bring a cup full of water. 
 The slave, who took all the sculptor's glances 
 to herself, rose to obey the order ; but her mis- 
 tress called her back; it was not necessary, 
 she might stay. 
 
 " How do you like the palace ? " asked the 
 Empress, after a pause, in a low, timid voice, 
 trying to assume an indifferent expression ; and 
 a weight fell from his heart as she spoke. 
 
 " Oh, very well ! " he replied, sitting down 
 and playing with his modelling stick. The 
 beautiful woman's agitation had had a con- 
 tagious effect upon him. Now that she had 
 recovered her calmness, he felt how the brief 
 moment of tension had exhausted him, and 
 struggled wrathfully against a physical discom- 
 fort hitherto unknown ; even the control he 
 was compelled to exert over his voice, which 
 sounded harsh, he angrily resented. 
 
 190 
 
 ilst 
 
 m 
 
Empress OctaWa 
 
 sympathizing as i, ut ed thl .^n'" ^k"'^' ^° 
 
 replied Octavia " '''^ ™ ^"""g." 
 
 Emperor nav 1 u- / "' Sf^'efiil to the 
 
 I sefve him gU 1 ''rl '°\''' ^^'^ ^rt. 
 'oveyou,as!hf|;:a ^'^"^''^^^-not 
 
 much in the taverns and .K V^^'' S^^^'P ^o 
 
 You ought to see vour h K "'."''"-^'"'PS- 
 quently-i" '^°" husband more fre- 
 
 in^errirtltTm'""^ P'""'^> ^o- home," 
 
 •™f/"enBr::^o1lBr:;r-^'""-^'--"'^. 
 
 -id hTbeautifu,' ':' '"°"" ^"" --h-." 
 The openi^; i^' 1 :i?",' f ^" l^^ P--d. 
 
 '•■e water in'thetsirt^:/::;-''"^"-- 
 'P-^ «ec.ed the g-eaming^t T^^;: 
 
 191 ■' 
 
il l I 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 in the rooms could scarcely be distinguished, 
 — pictures and statues were assuming vague 
 outlines. Both were silent. Octavia still 
 gazed, as if listening, at his beautiful face, 
 whose chin was yet beardless. His brow, in 
 which a line of pain was visible, drooped 
 mournfully. At last she broke the pause. 
 
 " You are longing for your home, poor 
 boy." 
 
 " Oh, I am not so faint-hearted," replied 
 Metellus, smiling. " Rome is beautiful too." 
 
 " But here you have no heart that sympa- 
 thizes with you," she said. 
 
 " Have you such a heart ? " he asked. 
 
 " No," she answered. There was a harsh 
 tone in her voice. 
 
 "Then mine shall feel with you," he an- 
 swered as frankly as if he were saying some- 
 thing perfectly natural. Octavia had bent her 
 head toward him with a beautiful curve of her 
 slender neck. The delicate arms were sharply 
 outlined against the background of the black 
 chair. 
 
 " Do you wish to be interested in my fate?" 
 she asked, half smiling, half sadly. 
 
 "Surely," he exclaimed almost gayly, "you 
 please me. Mistress. You are not like the 
 other ladies in the palace, not bold and for- 
 
 192 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 - ' if r' rr ;„t r "'- '°- - 
 
 that here." ^ " ^^^^ "« cause for 
 
 na.e and iehu„.„e when i:;:.""^"-- 
 
 »g. -d remained wrht ve^ T"'' '''"^''- 
 floor until slie rose Sh. ^ '"' "?=>" '^e 
 
 f-i™ to gi.e hirhertn^^r:? T"' 
 ^gam gazed at l,i„ with oL "f f^^ .' '"'' 
 wh.ch convert the eyes into T' i^^'' ""''^ 
 one of those deeJ\T J'"^°'^'^'^ ^°< 
 
 which love ;eak XLTcS"" ''""'' '" 
 
 Metellus, who hid 11 ^ "" "'°''''^- 
 
 quivering reflection of W ,"' ''"^'" ">= '>■« 
 after the'retre ng fi' ^ „t"\"'^" ^^^^'^ 
 fully her dark iocll-r'ove ",^r d"' TT 
 
 ~Vn:srv-^""^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 -;Medhy tender <;:Vott~:wr^ 
 
 1 93 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 until the curtain at the door fell behind her 
 white robe. That deep look had touched him 
 strangely. No human eye had ever before 
 rested on him thus, stirring his heart to its 
 inmost depths. She must be very unhappy, 
 he began to think. Oh, if looks were only 
 words, he reflected, still haunted by those 
 eyes. What did she wish to tell me? I 
 know, and yet I fear that I am deceiving 
 myself. 
 
 Just as he was leaving the room, a shapeless 
 creature, whom hitherto he had not noticed, 
 came stealing to his feet. It was Meroe, who 
 was trying to attract his attention, as he had 
 not seen her in the dusky room. 
 
 " What do you want, Meroe ? " he said 
 kindly, as she held up a date to him. 
 
 " Take it," she answered, grinning. " Eat, 
 my friend." 
 
 " No, thank you," he replied. But the 
 fool would not desist, and offered him succes- 
 sively a piece of an old comb, a ring, a neck- 
 lace, a small image of Osiris, which as she 
 drew them carefully from her pocket, he pleas- 
 antly refused. But Meroe did not allow her- 
 self to be discouraged, probably thinking that 
 her lover was faint-hearted. She began to 
 play ball with the date, to exhibit her grace 
 
 194 
 
behind her 
 
 )uched him 
 
 2ver before 
 
 eart to its 
 
 ' unhappy, 
 
 were only 
 
 by those 
 
 II me? I 
 
 deceiving 
 
 a shapeless 
 
 3t noticed, 
 
 leroe, who 
 
 as he had 
 
 he said 
 
 iim. 
 
 (( 
 
 Eat, 
 
 But the 
 
 lim succes- 
 ig, a neck- 
 ich as she 
 t, he pleas- 
 allow her- 
 iking that 
 began to 
 her grace 
 
 I 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 to the best advantage, in which her half K. .• u 
 nianner and shrill laughter were so 1 f-'^ 
 to the object of h^r T ^ ° repulsive 
 
 to leave ^h:^li;" tfrc^ ''--d 
 h's knees, lavishing inarticull / "f "'"' 
 
 passionate to treat hrhthl ImTp"'"- 
 nius, who anneareH „ ?i, ^' ^""^ Petro- 
 
 -om, teleasedlt f '„' ^T °' '^^ 
 situation. °™ ^" disagreeable 
 
 ki3l°g'"saiftre"" ^PT™g the art of 
 ■' Hn, J ''"""'e''' 'aughing. 
 
 How do you obtain admission f„ .u 
 impress's apartments?" asked hi/ 
 
 — tos^^toVttVr^'-^'"^ 
 
 has invented ^ n. u ^ ^^'^'■' He 
 
 " How do you Jike .f I P'"' ^^ ^^'^ed : 
 
 a beaut ful woman ? A , ^^^^ ' ^s she not 
 ''- an oppr,^; .^"ri i-"^^ '■e"ow. 
 ^» long as you choose." ^ ''" P'^^^"^* 
 
 I9S 
 
";!!; ; 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 But the watchful questioner was mistaken if 
 he had hoped to catch any remark from the 
 young man's lips which would aid in his ruin. 
 Metelius avoided making any comments, and 
 when Petronius, to attain his object, finally 
 assumed, in a very cynical style, the part of a 
 tempter, the artist harshly stopped him. The 
 courtier laughingly proposed to win him the 
 favor of the deserted Empress, representing 
 that her virtue was by no means proof against 
 every assault, ray, even attempting to cast a 
 certain mysterious halo around her by allusions 
 to former love-affairs, 
 
 " You do not know her," cried the sculptor, 
 indignantly, " and are unworthy to take her 
 name on your lips." 
 
 The crafty noble answered soothingly, but, as 
 a shrewd judge of human nature, perceived by 
 this causeless anger that his victim's heart was 
 no longer so indifferent as before. 
 
 " My dear fellow," he said smiling, " I don't 
 understand why you should be so excited. A 
 young man has a wish, nay, a right, to enjoy 
 life, and he is a fool if he is too cautious in his 
 choice. Wary in words, bold in deeds. Day 
 smiles on us but once, and the shades no 
 longer love. Venus is welcome, wherever we 
 may find her ; or do the kisses of a slave differ 
 
 196 
 
 :l i 
 
nistaken if 
 c from the 
 n his ruin, 
 merits, and 
 2ct, finally 
 
 2 part of a 
 lim. The 
 n him the 
 ^presenting 
 oof against 
 5 to cast a 
 )y allusions 
 
 le sculptor, 
 
 3 take her 
 
 igly, but, as 
 erceived by 
 3 heart was 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 », " I don't 
 ixcited. A 
 It, to enjoy 
 tious in his 
 2eds. Day 
 
 shades no 
 wherever we 
 
 slave differ 
 
 from those of an Emp.ess > T„ ■ 
 woman's love is a crime " ' "'^''' " 
 
 you thinking o/ocr"''-;''' "" *'''" ''' 
 "ON J '-'ctavia and me?" 
 
 ;;vf>itir:7-r-".y^epiie.. 
 
 think about vour r^Io.; ^ ^o "ot 
 
 - it of n,injr Bet«1f " ""\ '^''^ "«"- 
 
 Ocavia-who would lamryVur'^ ^"'"''r 
 "ot J, and you can r.I ^ Certainly 
 
 "J -ed'nrconfidtts"^^°^7 
 proudly. onndants, said the youth, 
 
 -;?e^tri7„Sl^l'°-^' :'>e.her ,ou 
 blows through these hat ^' '''' "'^''^'> 
 
 in Tibur. Here we h ?.""' "' P"'" "'^ "^^ 
 fumes. Here the m '*' °PP'-«sive per- 
 
 "'- cold unldt rS'' " '"PP"^' -d i' i« 
 
 the time will ct2'^h ""'^ '"''■''• ^"'"'P^ 
 '^"^ come when von will u a^ 
 
 4 :irutT:ti:i4X"the":^^ --^• 
 -re:eV^u;rfa--^^^^^^^^ 
 
 h-vens. and w'oTe th fbh" ''u '""' "«''' 
 golden light benea h 'f "''''"■'; '''""^ with a 
 S oeneath the moonbeams. As the 
 '97 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 crafty spy saw the young man's honest face, 
 uplifted with such childlike innocence to the 
 moon, as if the golden disk floating between 
 the summits of the pines could shed light upon 
 the tangled labyrinth of his life, a passing emo- 
 tion of pity affected him. 
 
 " It is a shame," cried a voice in his hardened 
 heart, " a shame that this fresh, pure soul must 
 be ruined, but it will be; who can live in the 
 society of a Nero and keep his virtue ? " 
 
 Yet the vague words of the director of the 
 festivals had roused the emotions slumbering 
 in the breast of Metellus, given his ardent 
 soul purpose and direction. He understood 
 his own nature more clearly; and, when he 
 brought Octavia's form before his imagina- 
 tion, he felt as if a soft, warm rain was fall- 
 ing upon him. At least this was the general 
 impression produced by her face, her voice, her 
 manner. 
 
 "Love for a woman is a strange thing," 
 the courtier went on thoughtfully, and now he 
 described the joys of love with a charm glow- 
 mg with hidden sensuality; yet he admitted 
 the rights of Psyche beside those of Amor so 
 fully, that even a rigid moralist could have 
 censured, at the utmost, only certain careless 
 sentences. His words groped their way on, 
 
 198 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 winding themselves about their hearer's mi„,l 
 .ke the meshes of a loathso„,espider's" b A 
 the shades o, night lure „Md beasts fr„„7thd 
 dens, these vague, subtle words awakened a 
 
 sorts^ofw,shes and desires in the unsus,ii 
 >outh,_w,shes and desires that woLdered 
 at the„,selves, yet gradually felt at ease in the 
 gloomy atmosphere. Metellus knew that he 
 ought not to listen to these words; more ha. 
 once he tned to interrupt the descriptions ; bu 
 
 lluTu" g"'l"''"y ^'"Pefied his sense and 
 robbed him of strength. 
 
 " ^'" Tl^ "'' ^^""^ '"'■"^ some day upon 
 
 to you also and you will be wise not to 
 stmggle agamst the yoke, for you will hu! 
 
 -y thrtjst the barb deeper into'your brast 
 We no longer all believe in the gods it is 
 
 tme; but no one ventures to doubt the divine 
 power of Venus. It burns more hotly than 
 the glowmg ,ron with which the cowardlv 
 glad,ator ,s forced into the arena; it tearl 
 deeper wounds than the claws of the tigre 
 Friendship alone can afford comfort in such 
 cases and, Metellus, you will find a friend- 
 as you have already felt-i„ me. Give me 
 your hand and promise to be frank. I Z 
 aid you where and as I can." 
 
 '99 
 
 , li 
 
M 
 
 ;'f * 
 
 
 1 i 
 
 iil' ^ 
 
 [I M ) 
 
 l(!i 
 
 P' , 
 
 h' 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 Metellus made no answer, his heart was 
 too full for words ; but he mechanically grasped 
 the proffered hand, his face still shadowed 
 by the beautiful, artless expression which gives 
 the eyes a wondering, dreamy gaze. As in 
 his helplessness he looked up into the winning 
 face of the courtier who was pressing his hand, 
 he forced back his tears and summoned all his 
 courage. 
 
 " If you wish to listen," he began, " perhaps 
 I might tell you some things. I do not know, 
 oh, Petronius, what has befallen my heart 
 to-day. I must have some one in whom I 
 can confide." 
 
 Petronius concealed a smile, as he heard the 
 confession. Listening intently, he bent down 
 to a clump of box and pretended to drive away 
 an insect that was glittering there. 
 
 " I hear you, my friend," he said as indiffer- 
 ently as possible ; "just see that fire-fly, how it 
 shines among the leaves — " The fool must 
 surely betray himself now, he i';. o^t, 
 
 Metellus gazed wearily np at the moon 
 which was just appearing below a thin bank 
 of clouds, illumining the distant pool and the 
 white marble statues. 
 
 "Yes, I will tell you," he murmured. 
 Petronius had no more ardent desire than to 
 
 200 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 have Metellus complete his confession, yet he 
 did not venture to urge him, so he merely 
 passed his arm around the youth's shoulders 
 and agam kindly entreated him to trust him 
 But the helpless expression which he now saw 
 on his victim's face touched even the cold 
 heart of the courtier, and when Metellus, wfth 
 downcast eyes, whispered that he could n ,t 
 force his hps to utter what he desired to con- 
 fess, the old satirist suddenly felt a sort of 
 reverence for this purity, — a reverence so new 
 to him that it almost aroused his anger. 
 ^ " You do not belong at court," he exdaimed 
 in a harsh tone ; " leave it." 
 
 Metellus looked at him in surprise. Then 
 regretting his words, Petronius laughed, pre- 
 tending that he had uttered them merely in 
 jest. He really felt relieved when a slave 
 appeared to summon both to the palace 
 Upon the terrace-like roof of an outbuilding, 
 behind pillars garlanded with flowers, reclined 
 Nero's guests, — a very motley company of 
 dancing-girls, actors, and singers. Tall can- 
 delabra sent flickering flames upward toward 
 the night-heavens and flooded with their dull- 
 red glare the whole party of revellers who, 
 flushed with wine, tossed, half-clad, on their 
 cushions. Busy servants filled the goblets 
 
 901 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 with Spanish wine ; beautiful boys, dressed like 
 girls and smiling affectedly, passed wreaths 
 and dishes ; pale Greek women lay intoxicated 
 on the floor or mischievously struggled to 
 escape from their lovers' caresses. Wine 
 flowed down from the round tables ; crushed 
 roses, goblets, ornaments, fragments torn from 
 dresses floated on the sullied marble ; and from 
 the shadow of curtains and cushions peered 
 faces smiling hideously, or repulsive giggling 
 greeted the ear. The whole scene was shrouded 
 by the murky red smoke of the burned Arabian 
 gums ; this incense veiled the dripping pillars 
 and the revellers' figures with long, heavy 
 clouds which swept like a mist between the 
 candelabra and the tables. 
 
 Metellus felt no inclination to share the 
 banquet ; he stood near the door, gazing 
 gloomily at the extremely picturesque spec- 
 tacle ; the night-breeze blew the stupefying 
 smoke toward him ; a slave-girl fanned the 
 fire on a silver tripod and flung on fresh fuel. 
 The smoke poured more densely around the 
 half nude forms and the flower-wreathed pil- 
 lars. Thus the gods reclined upon clouds 
 at their banquets. Meanwhile Petronius had 
 reported the result of his investigation to the 
 Caesar. Nero nodded, well satisfied. 
 
 202 
 
;ssed like 
 
 wreaths 
 
 itoxicated 
 
 ggled to 
 
 Wine 
 
 crushed 
 
 orn from 
 
 and from 
 
 s peered 
 
 giggling 
 shrouded 
 i Arabian 
 ig pillars 
 y, heavy 
 ween the 
 
 hare the 
 . gazing 
 ue spec- 
 :upefying 
 med the 
 resh fuel. 
 )und the 
 thed pil- 
 1 clouds 
 nius had 
 >n to the 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 " The fruit is ripening," whispered Petronius •, 
 " we can soon shake it down ; leave the execu- 
 tion to me, oh, Caesar; you shall be content." 
 
 Then, turning to Poppaea, he added mis- 
 chievously. 
 
 " Cherish no hope, fair lady ; the boy is an 
 enthusiast, and Octavia's virtue seems to 
 enthrall him." 
 
 "I will set my nets, Petronius," replied 
 Poppaea, smiling, " we will see who first catches 
 the beautiful game." 
 
 Then, trying to attract Metellus's attention 
 by the language of her eyes, she said to 
 Petronius, — 
 
 "Just see how gloomily he gazes into va- 
 cancy ! By Zeus ! He is handsome, and I 
 grudge him to the proudly virtuous Octavia. 
 He is too beautiful to be permitted to remain 
 innocent." 
 
 The courtier smiled languishingly like a 
 satyr from whose grasp the nymph has escaped ; 
 but Poppaea seized some roses that lay before 
 her and flung them so skilfully over the heads 
 of the revellers that one struck Metellus on 
 the forehead. He looked up and, recognizing 
 the person who had played the prank by the 
 side-glances she occasionally cast at him, he 
 averted his face with intentional persistency. 
 
 2Q'. 
 
 4 
 
 ;3y 
 
i I 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 The whole scene was repulsive to the youth; 
 yet its demoniac charm gradually allured his 
 imagination. He resolved to go, yet closed 
 his eyes and remained. When Poppaea sent a 
 slave to invite him to sit beside her, he could 
 not, in his conflict with himself, decline. Ap- 
 proaching with a sullen face, he sat outwardly 
 indifferent, but inwardly greatly agitated, beside 
 the beauty, who ordered a wreath of fresh 
 roses to be placed on his hair, and wine to be 
 set before him. It was the first time in his 
 life that he had been so near a woman. He 
 said little, and indignantly repelled all advances. 
 True, when she rested her arm on his, he could 
 not prevent his pulses from throbbing more 
 violently, or his imagination from painting 
 Octavia's charms in more glowing hues ; but 
 he always withdrew his hand from her clasp 
 with the slightly contemptuous smile which 
 might have been taken for a reluctant surrender, 
 and gave the impression that he constantly 
 desired to go and only remained through 
 courtesy and a slight weakness of character. 
 
 Poppaea talked incessantly, sometimes telling 
 the latest news of the Circus, sometimes the 
 last Roman scandals, tried to make him laugh, 
 and finally reproached him for his silence, 
 meanwhile leaning so heavily upon his shoul- 
 
 204 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
the youth; 
 allured his 
 yet closed 
 paea sent a 
 ', he could 
 line. Ap- 
 
 outwardly 
 ted, beside 
 1 of fresh 
 vine to be 
 ime in his 
 man. He 
 \ advances. 
 3, he could 
 Ding more 
 . painting 
 hues ; but 
 
 her clasp 
 lile which 
 surrender, 
 constantly 
 through 
 iracter. 
 nes telling 
 ;times the 
 im laugh, 
 s silence, 
 lis shoul- 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 der that it was almost impossible for him to 
 rise, while her breath, laden with the fumes of 
 wine, disturbed him strangely. Nero, who 
 had gone away to make his voice more flexible 
 by an emetic, now returned. Its effect was 
 still visible in the pallor of his fat cheeks, 
 which thereby, in contrast with his reddish 
 hair, assumed a peculiarly repulsive hue, like 
 raw flesh. So, bearing his lyre on his arm, he 
 walked through the ranks of the revellers, his 
 ample cloak hanging in disorder around his 
 clumsy limbs. He would declaim the " Niobe," 
 he shouted; whereupon a breathless silence 
 ensued. 
 
 Then he appointed the critics of his artistic 
 performance, humbly addressing them as his 
 masters, upon whose just verdict his life would 
 depend. They must be lenient judges, reject- 
 ing everything accidental which might appear in 
 his work. The judges encouraged the doubter, 
 whose timidity was sincere, by reminding him 
 how often he had proved his talent. 
 
 Standing between two candelabra freshly 
 supplied with pitch, he began to recite the 
 poem, which he had composed himself. His 
 voice was sharp, but praise could justly be 
 given to his verses, as well as to the dramatic 
 expression of his gestures. One portion, with 
 
 205 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 ... 
 
 which he was especially pleased because it 
 described the tenderest maternal love, he re- 
 peated, going into such a rhapsody that, directly 
 after the first verse, an unfortunate incident 
 occurred. While making a bold gesture with 
 his arm, he overturned one of the candelabra, 
 whose flaming pitch almost burned the guest 
 nearest to it. Nero went on as if nothing had 
 happened, while the cushions were blazing, and 
 the trained applauders did not cease clapping 
 their hands madly. Many who were present 
 afterwards asserted that Nero had upset the 
 candelabrum intentionally upon the couch 
 where lay his rival, the poet Lucan, whom he 
 bitterly hated. 
 
 As the slaves now began to cleanse the 
 marble floor, Metellus found an opportunity 
 in the universal confusion of escaping from his 
 seat beside Poppaea and going to his own 
 room. After removing his garments, he sat 
 down at the table on which the lamp was 
 already shedding its dim blue light over books, 
 rolls, and sketches. Poppasa's love-making, 
 which this time he had perceived more dis- 
 tinctly than ever before, inspired a momentary 
 self-loathing; he felt humiliated when he 
 looked at his arm, which, for some time, had 
 rested upon hers^ a tremor of disgust ran 
 
 206 
 
 I 1 
 
because it 
 i'^e, he re- 
 it, directly 
 s incident 
 iture with 
 andelabra, 
 the guest 
 thing had 
 izing, and 
 : clapping 
 e present 
 upset the 
 le couch 
 whom he 
 
 ;anse the 
 portunity 
 from his 
 his own 
 s, he sat 
 imp was 
 er books, 
 -making, 
 lore dis- 
 Dmentary 
 vhen he 
 :ime, had 
 gust ran 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 through him, and, to escape it, he hurriedly 
 turned to his books. To cool his fevered 
 blood before he went to sleep, he selected some 
 ot Horace's odes, but, unluckily, while search- 
 ing for the book, Ovid's *' Art of Love " fell 
 into his hands. He had hitherto known noth- 
 ing of this work ; it was not among his own 
 volumes, and must have been placed here 
 secretly. 
 
 So he began to read, while the moon peered 
 over the tops of the pine-trees through the folds 
 of the curtain, and a night-moth circled like a 
 warning spirit around the bluish flame of the 
 lamp. Often Metellus laid down the book 
 and fell into a reverie. The satyr-like bold- 
 ness with which the lover is counselled selfishly 
 to lead his mistress's heart astr-iy, repelled his 
 mind, which had not yet learned to make 
 shrewd calculations in love. "No," cried a 
 voice in his heart, « Ovid never knew love, else 
 how could he advise lovers to feign tears." 
 Yet, sometimes, when thinking of Octavia, he 
 could not shut from his ears an evil whis'per 
 that he ought to use the maxims of the writer 
 So, propping his head on his beautifully 
 formed arm, he sat staring at the flame, un- 
 consciously pushing the wick with the plectrum 
 of a lyre which he held in his hand. The 
 
 207 
 
r 
 
 ' 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 breeze sometimes hore from the park the dis- 
 tant sound of the carousing courtiers, and 
 gradually Metellus was overpowered by a 
 melancholy which oppressed him all the more 
 deeply because, hitherto, he had been accus- 
 tomed to regard life from an entirely different 
 standpoint. His existence seemed utterly pur- 
 poseless ; he felt as if he was in the midst of 
 the sea, with no 8uj)port anywhere. He no 
 longer believed in the gods, and doubtless he 
 would soon be unable to believe in men ; for he 
 feared that he should learn by experience on 
 what a feeble foundation the nobility of human 
 nature rested. The fact that he must undergo 
 these experiences filled him with indignation 
 against himself, and yet he lacked the moral 
 courage to give this indignation the ability to 
 exercise a regenerating influence upon his 
 heart. The paralyzing consciousness that vice 
 might possess power over him shadowed his 
 soul like -n evil dream which we cannot shake 
 off, yet which, in our dozing state, we know 
 that we only need make a vigorous effort to 
 dispel. According to the habit of youth, he 
 soon put a plaster over the sore spot in his 
 soul, and, with the skill of self-deception, his 
 thoughts glided away from all that was dis- 
 turbing to his comfort. Only often, while 
 
 ao8 
 
 11: 
 
rk the dis- 
 rtiers, and 
 red by a 
 1 the more 
 een accus- 
 y different 
 tterly pur- 
 
 midst of 
 
 He no 
 
 ubtless he 
 
 en ; for he 
 
 irience on 
 
 of human 
 It undergo 
 idignation 
 the moral 
 
 ability to 
 upon his 
 ; that vice 
 lowed his 
 not shake 
 we know 
 I effort to 
 youth, he 
 )ot in his 
 ption, his 
 
 was dis- 
 ;n, while 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 reviewing his life at this court, a strange chill 
 ran through his limbs, all sorts of vague fore- 
 bodings oppressed him ; and though until now 
 he had not perceived the mire under the gild- 
 ing, the serpent under the flowers, he had had 
 
 an uncomfortable feeling that everything around 
 him was not exactly as it should be. His con 
 versation with the Empress had increased his 
 doubts, robbed him of the careless youthful 
 thoughtlessness of his former life, nay, almost 
 given him the deliberation of mature years at 
 least at times. ' 
 
 The wick of the lamp was half consumed 
 when the slave entered, and announced Burrus 
 who appeared immediately after, leading a boy 
 by the hand. He apologized for disturbing 
 him at so late an hour, and then said : « This 
 lad would not stop begging to be taken to 
 you, until I consented." The boy knelt be- 
 fore Metellus, entreating the artist to let him 
 stay with him. 
 
 " He clung to my cloak as I was going 
 down the Via Sacra," said Burrus, « declaring 
 that he was your slave, and had lost his way in 
 Home." ' 
 
 "You saved my life once, when they were 
 going to throw me to the wild beasts," said the 
 little fellow. « Oh, take care of me now ; don't 
 ** 209 
 
■ ^J^^^HHHBH 
 
 li, ,■ 
 
 ! 
 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 leave me to starve. I have been searching all 
 over this great Rome for you three whole 
 days ; yesterday I saw that you were living in 
 the palace." 
 
 Metellus now recognizee the boy whom, 
 while wandering through the streets at night, 
 he had hidden in the niche of the wall while 
 the band of Christians was being taken to 
 the Circus. He told Burrus the incident, and 
 then asked the lad's name. 
 
 " Stephanus," he answered quickly. 
 
 " Well, Stephanus," replied the artist, " I 
 like you. You shall be my slave, and you 
 will not fare badly with me, if you are 
 obedient." 
 
 The boy gratefully kissed Metellus's hand, 
 and squatted on the floor, watching with half- 
 parted lips every movement of his master. 
 Burrus approached the artist. 
 
 "Young man," he said, "let me speak a 
 few words to you in confidence." 
 
 Metellus looked up inquiringly. 
 
 " I do not know why you can so suddenly 
 call yourself the Emperor's favorite," the gen- 
 eral went on, with a troubled look, " I will not 
 think that vice binds you to the Caesar's 
 heart." 
 
 Metellus blushed and turned angrily away, 
 
 2IO 
 
xhing all 
 ;e whole 
 living in 
 
 T whom, 
 at night, 
 all while 
 taken to 
 lent, and 
 
 •tist, " I 
 and you 
 you are 
 
 s's hand, 
 ith half- 
 master. 
 
 speak a 
 
 uddenly 
 the gen- 
 will not 
 Caesar's 
 
 y away, 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 his features assuming an expression of haughty 
 indignation. As he stood thus, an image of 
 youthful beauty and noble wrath, Burrus's 
 eyes rested on him with pleasure ; he offered 
 him his hand, but Metellus did not clasp it. 
 
 "I did not wish to offend you," said the 
 soldier ; « I do not believe that you are one of 
 the venal souls who come to Rome to be the 
 tools of the rich. Your face inspires me with 
 confidence, and I will venture to speak frankly 
 to you. Whatever may be the cause, it is a 
 fact that the gods have given you great power 
 over Nero's heart, and old Burrus entreats you 
 not to misuse this influence." 
 
 The general's voice trembled as he uttered 
 the last words, his face flushed, and he fixed his 
 eyes upon the floor. 
 
 " I am no freedman, but a free man," said 
 Metellus, still indignant. 
 
 " Well, my friend," replied Burrus, "as you 
 have obtained some power at this court, use 
 it to protect the good and to ruin the evil. 
 Above all, avoid imperilling the virtuous, 
 whose fair fame is so easily sullied." The 
 last words were uttered with a strange vehe- 
 mence, almost as if against his will ; he seemed 
 to wish to add something more, and now bent 
 his head, whose brow wore a troubled frown. 
 
 21 I 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 " Is any one in peril ? " the artist asked in- 
 voluntarily ; and i^urrus, who had subdued his 
 excitement, answered that the Empress's life 
 was in danger. 
 
 " The Empress ? " cried Metellus. " Why do 
 you bring foolish rumors to destroy my peace? 
 No one's life is more secure than Occavia's." 
 
 When the youth now heard that Nero him- 
 self desired his wife's death, his blood boiled, 
 and he called Burrus a slanderer. 
 
 " Alas," said the latter, without showing any 
 sign of offence, " that I should be the one to 
 destroy your happy youthful dreams." 
 
 Then he gave the youth a picture of court 
 life, described the mortal terror of all who 
 came in contact with the Caesar, showed him a 
 glimpse of Nero's character, and intimated 
 that he, Metellus, was only balancing like a 
 rope-dancer on the swaying line of imperial 
 caprice. 
 
 " You see only the front of the picture," he 
 added ; " but there is an unpainted, ugly back, 
 and I should like to warn you against the 
 companionship of several courtiers. But, 
 above all, be on your guard, I emphasize 
 this a second time, not to sully the reputation 
 of the good." 
 
 Metellus shook his head ; he had not heard 
 
 212 
 
 J 
 
asked in- 
 adued his 
 ress's life 
 
 ' Why do 
 ly peace? 
 ivia's." 
 ero him- 
 d boiled, 
 
 wing any 
 le one to 
 
 of court 
 all who 
 :d him a 
 ntimated 
 g like a 
 imperial 
 
 ure," he 
 ly back, 
 inst the 
 ;. But, 
 iphasize 
 putation 
 
 3t heard 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 the last warning, his mind was dwelling on the 
 unprecedented news, — Nero wished to get rid 
 of his wife; he was incapable of understanding 
 anythmg else for the moment. 
 
 " I will never believe it," cried the unsus- 
 picious youth ; « that ^ high treason. The 
 Emperor may have faults, but you exaggerate 
 them to ruin him. I honor the Cjcsar as my 
 patron, and no one shall venture to turn me 
 against him." 
 
 _ In vain Burrus tried to show him that Nero 
 did not love his wife ; in vain he hinted that 
 people at court were beginning to gossip about 
 
 his more familiar intercourse with Octavia, 
 
 the young man did not understand him and at 
 last exclaimed that he would go at once to Nero 
 and speak to him about the matter. When at 
 last, as the artist praised Petronius's friendship 
 Burrus called the courtier an old profligate and 
 hypocrite, Metellus angrily told him that he 
 must leave the room, and the general, glancing 
 compassionately at the angry youth, retired. 
 
 " They want to rob me of my confidence, 
 make me a misanthrope," murmured Metellus' 
 approaching the open window ; « but men are 
 not so bad as they are represented -- are they 
 ye eternal stars ? " 
 
 He raised both arms to the glittering star- 
 
 213 
 
' fl 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 strewn sky, and, in spite of his resolute cling- 
 ing to the beautiful and the good, a pang of 
 anxious fear thrilled his breast like a forebod- 
 ing that the time was not far distant when he 
 would be forced to bury his youthful ideals. 
 He did not wish to believe in wickedness ; 
 and thouffh Burrus's words had sowed fresh 
 doubts in a heart already corroded by dis- 
 trust, it was so much more comfortable, so 
 much pleasanter, not to see ugliness, or at least 
 to excuse it by a little expenditure of neigh- 
 borly love. 
 
 True, Nero, when he reflected seriously, was 
 not what he should be; Octavia was unhappy; 
 while Petronius was talking, one felt convinced 
 of his sincerity, when he ceased speaking, one 
 felt ashamed of having listened to him ; Pop- 
 paea could please no pure-hearted person ; the 
 rest of the Caesar's train were of little worth ; 
 the singers, actors, zither-players, and dancers 
 were undoubtedly swindlers; the inhabitants of 
 Rome, especially the stoics, dandies, barbers, 
 tavern-keepers, and slaves by no means suited 
 the ideas of an honorable man ; but there were 
 probably exceptions, and perhaps? the dealings 
 of all these people appeared more reprehensible 
 than they really were. Or did Burrus wish to 
 deprive him of the Caesar's favor ? What did 
 
 214 
 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 he mean by saying that he must not imperil 
 the virtuous? Had he not always respected 
 virtue? No, Burrus was a slanderer; Petro- 
 nius meant honestly by him. How much 
 more pleasantly the latter's words had 
 sounded; how evident it was that Burrus 
 desired to bring him into a quarrel with 
 Nero! Such were the thoughts contending 
 in the artist's troubled mind; but before he 
 had reached any definite conclusion, he felt 
 some one clasp his hand, and a boy's voice 
 asked : " What is the name of that star, 
 twinkling so brightly over yonder temple ? " 
 
 Metellus looked down into the beautiful, 
 innocent face of his new slave, passed his hand 
 over his waving black hair, and said, — 
 
 " I am no astrologer, my Stephanus ; perhaps 
 it is Cyllaros." 
 
 "Oh," cried the lad, "please tell me if it is 
 shining over Greece." 
 
 " I cannot tell you even that," answered the 
 youth, " but it is possible." 
 
 The boy's head drooped mournfully, and 
 his master asked him why he was so sad. The 
 lad shook his head. "I do not know," he 
 answered. 
 
 " You do not know ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 2IS 
 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 " That is strange ! " 
 
 Then both were silent. 
 
 "Oh, my lord," Stephanus suddenly ex^ 
 claimed, raising his large, timid eyes, " can you 
 take me to Greece ? " 
 
 " Greece is far away from here, my friend," 
 said Metellus. 
 
 " Far away from here ! " murmured the boy, 
 in assent, gazing dreamily at the stars as if 
 he could discern in them the mountains of 
 Hellas. 
 
 " Why do you wish to be taken to Greece ? " 
 asked the master. 
 
 But Stephanus made no reply, and, after 
 some time, said in a low tone: "I am 
 hungry." 
 
 Metellus ordered food to be brought ; and 
 the lad eagerly drank the milk, while Metellus 
 watched him silently, still pondering over the 
 warning he had just received from Burrus. 
 The grace with which the slave handled the 
 dishes attracted his attention, and, in the midst 
 of his serious reflections, he could not help 
 suddenly bursting into a laugh, as he saw the 
 boy eating so eagerly, especially as Stephanus, 
 after every mouthful, looked across at him as 
 though to get permission to go on. 
 " Stephanus," he called. 
 
 216 
 
 i 
 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 mly ex- 
 can you 
 
 friend," 
 
 the boy, 
 rs as if 
 tains of 
 
 reece ? " 
 
 d, after 
 M am 
 
 It; and 
 letellus 
 ver the 
 Burrus. 
 led the 
 : midst 
 )t help 
 ;aw the 
 )hanus, 
 liim as 
 
 " Yes, my lord ? " 
 
 " Why do you always breathe through your 
 mouth, instead of through your nose ? " 
 
 "I don't know, my lord," said the boy, 
 smiling. This way of breathing compelled the 
 little fellow to keep his lips parted, giving his 
 face the expression of dreamy yearning which 
 we admire in the Greek statues, and which now 
 filled the artist's heart with delight. 
 " How old are you, Stephanus ? " 
 " Fourteen, my lord." 
 " Where do your parents live ? " 
 "I don't know my parents," he answered 
 carelessly, without showing any sorrow. Me- 
 tellus, moved with compassion, asked in what 
 country he was born; but Stephanus could not 
 tell him, though he spoke with strange emotion 
 of a rich, mild land, with cool groves, numerous 
 temples, and lofty, cloud-capped mountains. 
 There he had rested on beautiful meadows 
 among the goats, and zn older friend had played 
 to him on a reed-flute; but never at noon-day 
 when the sun rested so stilly upon the woods' 
 when the goats slept, and only the fountain 
 murmured, for at that hour, his friend had told 
 him,^ they must not wake the sleeping Pan. 
 Oh, it was so beautiful when the shepherds in 
 their shaggy garments met to sing songs for 
 
 217 
 
 $ 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 the prize of a cheese or a cup of wine, and the 
 shepherds had so often contended about him 
 and kissed him, while the little kids frisked 
 merrily about. 
 
 "And do you know nothing at all about 
 your parents ? " asked Metellus when he paused. 
 The boy shook his head. 
 
 " I will be your father, Stephanus," said 
 Metellus, holding out his hand ; " will you love 
 me very dearly ? " 
 
 " Oh, I do love you," said the boy, rushing 
 to his master, patting his cheeks, and smiling 
 so sweetly that Metellus, deeply touched, 
 kissed his parted lips. 
 
 " You do love me ? " asked Metellus ; " why 
 do you love me? " 
 
 " I will not tell that," replied the boy. 
 
 " You will not tell ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Come, tell me ! " 
 
 But he could not be induced to speak, and 
 pressed his lips tightly together, breathing, for 
 the first time, through his nose. Metellus 
 jestingly shook him, and threatened him, 
 laughing, with blows. 
 
 "You will not hurt me," cried the boy; 
 " beat me, if you wish." 
 
 The artist released him, protesting that he 
 
 2l8 
 
, and the 
 bout him 
 !s frisked 
 
 all about 
 le paused. 
 
 us," said 
 1 you love 
 
 ■, rushing 
 
 i smiling 
 
 touched, 
 
 s ; " why 
 
 jy. 
 
 )eak, and 
 hing, for 
 Metellus 
 led him, 
 
 :he boy ; 
 
 that he 
 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 might expect it, which, however, the boy did 
 not believe. 
 
 "J am sleepy," he said after a time, and, 
 sitting down in a chair, watched his master 
 over the back, as the latter turned the pages 
 of a book. 
 
 " But you will give me a reed-flute, if I 
 serve you well, will you not ? " asked Stepha- 
 nus suddenly, yawning. 
 
 " Ah, now I know why you love me, you 
 rogue," replied Metellus ; " you think I will 
 make you plenty of gifts ? " 
 
 The boy smiled ; and his master promised 
 him a reed-flute, which seemed to delight him, 
 for he sometimes fingered his lips as if he 
 already possessed the instrument. 
 
 Gradually Stephanus became less and less 
 talkative, and only nodded wearily when his 
 master looked up at him from his book. There 
 was something wonderfully trusting in this 
 nod ; but soon he ceased to make it, and when, 
 after an unusually long interval, the reader 
 turned toward him, he found that he had fallen 
 asleep with his head on the back of the chair. 
 
 Metellus laid his Ovid down, carried the 
 sleeper carefully to the tawny lion-skin which 
 adorned the marble floor beside his couch, and 
 threw himself wearily on the cushions. After 
 
 219 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 I 
 
 ill ■ 
 
 ext ngu,shmg the lamp, he gazed a long time 
 
 upon the fl"'' ^""''l "^ "'^ ^'>"d "-'ch"d 
 upon the floor, over whose beautiful limbs the 
 
 moonbeams were weaving a silvery n"k 
 
 He also scanned, with the eyes of his soul the 
 
 countenance of the unhapp/ Empress Were 
 
 the words of Burrus true > Did the shadow 
 
 of he nether world already rest upon tha" 
 
 no e brow? He resolved^o track'out the 
 
 secret. Yet never had he felt so content as 
 
 iTZrr ;"° ■""""'""' ^^"-'-^ ^•'-Id 
 Steal into his heart now H^ 
 
 genuine paternal aifectiras h^thoTgTtTh: 
 here at h,s feet rested a life which was depen- 
 dent on h,s love, his favor. A weight 1 La 
 heavy coat of n.ail fd, fro„ his brLt, when 
 he remembered that perhaps in the wide'wor d 
 the,e m,ght be a noble woman's heart that 
 beat for h,m shared his weal and woe. "Thou 
 
 iZll The " f'- ""' "-^ S-atest protect on 
 
 against the mahcicus power of Fate " he said 
 
 o h,mself; "what can be wrested from thf 
 
 thTn" nf ", "- g'^dlyhe wouU hav 
 thanked the gods for the happiness they had 
 bestowed upon h,m, but he no longer found 
 
 esTond t"v' T^'^' "'^'"= *^Mid not 
 respond to h,s call. Outside in the gardens 
 
 the.r pale .mages glimmered in the moonbeam"' 
 
 320 ' 
 
 fill 1" 
 
long time 
 I stretched 
 
 limbs the 
 ' network. 
 s souJ, the 
 3s. Were 
 le shadow 
 ipon that 
 ^ out the 
 ontent as 
 ns should 
 perienced 
 ight that 
 IS depen- 
 ht hke a 
 1st, when 
 de world 
 Jart that 
 
 " Thou 
 •otection 
 
 he said 
 3m thee 
 Id have 
 hey had 
 r found 
 iid not 
 gardens 
 beams ; 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 but they were lifeless masks ; they smiled indif- 
 ferently unsympathizingly, majestically, in the 
 silvery light. ^ 
 
 Stephanus muttered a few Greek words in 
 his sleep ; Metellus asked what he wanted • 
 but the lad did not rouse from his slumber ' 
 
 "The poor boy will freeze," said Metellus 
 pushing his pillow under his head and wrapping 
 the purple coverlet of the couch over his grace 
 ml limbs. ° 
 
 221 
 
ttiii 
 
 ? I 
 
 ! i 
 ( 
 i 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 A FEW days after the incidents just re- 
 lated, a little group had gathered on the 
 portico of the stately reception-hall overlooking 
 the palace gardens. The Empress was reclin- 
 ing upon a couch which, shaded by a purple 
 awning stretched from several trees, stood half 
 under the branches of the little grove of lemon- 
 trees, half under the gilded columns. Her 
 face looked brighter to-day than ever before ; 
 one might almost say that her eyes sometimes 
 glowed with fervi 1 passion, and only very 
 rarely a shadow suddenly fell upon her brow. 
 Then she gazed absently into vacancy, but 
 soon roused herself forcibly from her melan- 
 choly mood and tried to glance about her with 
 a smile. 
 
 Seneca, Andromachus, and Burrus were 
 seated around her couch ; while in the centre of 
 the company, with his back turned to the dark 
 yew-hedge, stood a young, long-haired, very 
 lank personage, clad in a somewhat shabby 
 toga, reading aloud his first work, — Odysseus. 
 
 222 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 At first all listened attentively • Sener. c. 
 
 tnnes expressing his pleasure'by a Id oX 
 
 he slave-g,rl Meroe, who, as usual, wasjlf 
 
 at her mistress's feet, instead nf .^^ i- ^ ^ 
 
 the fl,es wh,ch took refuge in the cool twS 
 
 which he Hed to'coS y Suit'"'' 
 ■nents of the hand; Burrus loolced JI ' uZ" 
 and was mentally execrating Seneca who ^ 
 promised to afford the nartv ! ' ,, "^ 
 :-t through the lolg-hS d^rrad "?He 
 
 / uLLdsionaiJy; beneca a one hf-M ^ ^ 
 apparently finding great en,'-. "^' 
 
 bombastic words. ^H^wasTr'"' ^" '^' 
 
 genius Th'i u f"''''"' "'^ y°"thfui 
 gen.us. The long-ha,red writer heeded neither 
 
 223 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 Octavia's wearied looks, nor the muttered oaths 
 of Burrus, which he probably received as signs 
 of approval, but thundered forth his trimeters 
 in a voice which, owing to prolonged use, 
 was growmg somewhat hoarse. When any 
 specially pathetic passage occurred, he ven- 
 tured to lift his glowing eyes over the edge of 
 his manuscript to note the effect of his verses ; 
 and if the Empress, startled from her reverie' 
 nodded with her wonted graciousness, the 
 happy youth threw his head back proudly 
 or swept his wiry hair away from his forehead 
 with his hand. Andromachus, to keep off- 
 drowsiness, was already counting the gilded 
 ornaments on the pillars; Burrus had caught 
 the contagion of his neighbor's yawning, — when 
 at last the poet, raising his hand, took a some- 
 what deeper breath in order to prepare worthily 
 for the approaching catastrophe. The Em- 
 press availed herself of this opportunity to 
 cut the bewildered declaimer of verse short 
 With the e^lamation: "Magnificent, very 
 beautiful!" True, a glance from the inter- 
 rupted author, who even believed that he de- 
 tected her in a yawn which the ejaculation was 
 intended to conceal, rebuked her. 
 
 " Very beautifully expressed," cried Octavia, 
 
 somewhat embarrassed, and quoting, "'Thou 
 
 224 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 ,, t^ • °"^ 't was of no avdl 
 The spell was broken R • ' 
 
 rhimeH .-n A , ^''°''^"- Burrus instantly 
 Chimed ,„, declarmg that the effect of the 
 drama was too concentrated to enjoy it all a 
 once; an mterval of seyeral days was'neces ary 
 
 second part. Seneca expatiated in detail upon 
 the beauties of the lines they had just heard 
 and was warmly supported by Octaiia ^' 
 
 upon u^ " r T"^ ' '"y P'^^^»"' h°ur 
 rsXn^^-Lara^dtrr-iZ- 
 
 :f zs^"'"- ^— " '^- '"-s:;: 
 
 The happy dramatist, greatly flattered 
 sm,led ; and Andromachus ufed I prt w' 
 as a physican to request the Empress to have 
 some food set before the youn^ man.wh le 
 
 from rh '°"T"°" ''^^ evidently suffered 
 from the delivery of his impressive verse 
 Octavia assented to this suggestion; so he 
 poor dramatist was obliged to pocket his 
 manuscript, which, when cold roast mea and 
 wine were offered to him, he did by To means 
 reluctantly. He even smiled and condescended 
 
 ^ 225 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 with much dignity, to make the remark that 
 he had distribu':ed the food of the gods and 
 received in return the good things of earth. 
 He took the food with the contempt of a god 
 dwelling among mortals ; and after arranging 
 his shabby toga picturesquely, he devoted 
 himself to the viands as eagerly as if for three 
 days nothing but words had passed his lips. 
 
 The Empress asked one of the slave-girls 
 for Metellus, and, in a low tone, bade her 
 request him to spend the afternoon in her 
 society. Then she beckoned to Burrus, and 
 while the hungry poet was absorbed in the 
 pleasures of the table, conversed eagerly with 
 the soldier. B, rrus perceived very plainly 
 that Octavia constantly endeavored to bring up 
 her favorite subject, — the traits of Metellus's 
 character; but he avoided it with the tact 
 which all frank people involuntarily display 
 toward secrets. He secretly regretted that 
 he had told his mistress the day before some- 
 thing about his visit to Metellus ; but as this 
 could no longer be recalled, he intimated by 
 brief answers, and looks of annoyance, how 
 tiresome the whole matter was to him, and 
 how earnestly he desired not to be honored 
 with an insight into the heart of the august 
 lady. 
 
 226 
 
 iMJ ^<ca Ml' 
 
•emark that 
 he gods and 
 j[S of earth, 
 pt of a god 
 ;r arranging 
 he devoted 
 if for three 
 d his lips. 
 : slave-girls 
 , bade her 
 oon in her 
 Burrus, and 
 bed in the 
 eagerly with 
 2ry plainly 
 to bring up 
 ■ Metellus's 
 :h the tact 
 rily display 
 retted that 
 efore some- 
 but as this 
 timated by 
 yance, how 
 3 him, and 
 36 honored 
 the august 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 only Pleasat ns'we / U ""^'"'-t " ^''' 
 she was watchingT4 Hv f """^'"' '"« 
 
 she knew how to cloak L !'. '^"'""'i'''^. 
 with fe„,i„i„e ijTlLZ It "'™f^ 
 
 sHe,udde„nr'ire\::-t-7'"-^.y. 
 
 topic. Burms could not fo low,, ","""" 
 n^y. even evasion wa, V • '" '""?'' 
 enough. When hk .''^™m'ng difficult 
 
 what'reply M tellu rad""^; T'''' ^^^^ 
 that her safetv i ' ^ '""''' '"'"" ^' ^'"<i 
 
 warrior loS a:oth::':ar'H''^^°"8h 
 
 'hat the news had tlJZ lit Z^'T 
 always^ .ntentlonall, called hin^'^X- 
 
 inflaTor<.t:r'k"i^''.°--.-'his 
 
 fate!" ""^ '= "iterested in my 
 
 " I think you are mistaton " 
 Burrus, wrathfully; "the vonth r "* 
 present, and troubles WmJlf T''™' '" "'^ 
 gods nor you--> himself neither about the 
 
 "The subject of our conversation • 
 longer a bov " ,1, r "^^^ation is no 
 i> "oy. the Empress contradicted, 
 
 227 ' 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 blushing; but Burrus muttered something 
 about " beardless lad." 
 
 " It does not matter whether he wears a 
 beard or not," answered Octavia, with flashing 
 eyes, in a louder tone than before ; " the beard 
 does not make the man, Burrus, nor even give 
 him intellect. But I know that Metellus is 
 interested in my fate, and no one shall roh me 
 of this consolation, — or can you give me 
 proofs of the contrary ? True, if you could 
 do this, you would be my enemy — " 
 
 " You forget yourself, noble lady," whis- 
 pered Burrus, gazing in alarm at the agitated 
 Empress, whose eyes were beginning to fill 
 with tears. 
 
 " I forget myself? " she said laughing 
 nervously, "and why should I not forget 
 myself? What have I to lose ? Do you sup- 
 pose I conceal that I feel for this youth — " 
 she stopped abruptly as she met the old sol- 
 dier's glance, which had suddenly become fixed 
 and imperious, and looked around her as if 
 waking from a dream, while her lower lip 
 quivered violently. She had incautiously re- 
 vealed the secret of her heart; yet this caused 
 her only a fleeting sense of confusion; but the 
 thought that the man on whom it was bestowed 
 could have remained indifi'erent to the news 
 
 228 
 
I 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 nie! over her Wfe Aft. ■ 
 
 Burrus broke the stnce '" " '°"^ P""'^' 
 " I hope we had no h'steners " h^ co.'^ • , 
 
 new Greek pa„ton,imis,s had app ed aTc"*"' 
 and yester,! . vhen ,1, "PP'^^'^a at court, 
 
 Helen, Helen bvth' t'"^ ^"'^ ''"'' 
 
 the title of Empress" ' ''"'''^'' *'■"> 
 
 "What has befallen our Mistress? ••;„,, 
 
 '-'--.ation b:;;^::';,^^- -hi„. 
 
 Just now' you^wt^r^^.T '''^•' -" 
 approaching the couch whh An/"""?"*' 
 " what has happened > " ^"'^'■"machus ; 
 
 saidB:;:,:Sf;^"'p--''°«popp.," 
 
 229 
 
I 
 
 , Empress Octavia 
 
 " Ah ! " replied Seneca, fixing his eyes on 
 the floor ; while the dramatist, who was still 
 eating, looked toward the group. Androma- 
 chus exchanged glances with Burrus, cleared 
 his throat, and, as was his habit, frowned. 
 
 " Our Mistress knows," he began earnestly, 
 " how highly we esteem her, regarding her as the 
 one pure star shining in unclouded radiance 
 above the mire of this court Hfe. Our Mistress 
 knows how important it is for us to be able to 
 hold her up as a contrasting picture to profligacy 
 and wickedness. The better class of the 
 Roman people need you, oh, Mistress, to re- 
 fresh themselves by the sight of you when, on 
 the brink of despair, they ask the gods in 
 horror whether fidelity, purity, nobleness of 
 nature are only meaningless words on earth. 
 That Is why we stand before your throne to 
 sustain you on it as long as possible, and to 
 remove every danger which threatens your 
 august existence. For the sake of the Roman 
 people, our Mistress will avoid every step 
 which might be misinterpreted and lead to her 
 downfall." 
 
 Andromachus had emphasized the last words 
 strongly, and Burrus added with a tremulous 
 voice : " How easy it is for a spy to make 
 things appear suspicious. At this court, the 
 
 230 
 
I 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 executioner's axe is formed from the mist of 
 conjecture." 
 
 All were silent ; the Empress still held her 
 blushmg face bowed; each knew what the other 
 was thml: ,g, but no one expressed it in words ; 
 Burrus ai Andromachus exchanged meaning 
 glances. At last the royal woman slowly 
 raised her head ; they could hear her panting 
 breath as she closed her dazzled eyes. 
 ^ " Do you really believe that I am necessary 
 m this world, necessary to the Roman peo- 
 ple } " she asked. 
 
 "With you the last prop of the noble- 
 minded will be broken," said Andromachus ; 
 'what will our people think, to what will they 
 ding in their distress, if even you — " he 
 paused, and Burrus finished the sentence in 
 a whisper: "Can no longer be held up to 
 them as the ideal of chastity ? " 
 Octavia shuddered. 
 
 " I am still mistress of my acts, I hope," she 
 said in a low tone, but with repellent haughti- 
 ness then, looking up at Andromachus, added : 
 1 ell me how the city and the court judge 
 me, what is said among the people." 
 
 Andromachus, fearing that he must touch 
 upon the painful and delicate details, was si- 
 lent ; and the Empress, instantly conjecturing 
 
 231 
 
 m 
 
i'^'l I 
 
 i- , a 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 the cause, said with a defiant emphasis : « Have 
 you nothing better to do than to listen to the 
 gossip of the taverns, the stories of the Circus ? 
 They are the source of all your wisdom, all 
 your suspicion. Do not come to me again 
 with the oracular speeches of slaves or the 
 philosophy which my husband's weary dancers 
 ponder over at their banquets. You think 
 you understand me; but you are utterly 
 mistaken." , 
 
 Enraged that, in her lofty position, she could 
 have no secrets, she threw her fan upon the 
 iloor, and tears filled her eyes as she struggled 
 to find words. She was forced to approve the 
 warnings of her friends ; she knew that they 
 were doing their duty as loyal, honest men, 
 and this knowledge angered and wounded her. 
 Her friends had read her soul, perhaps had 
 listened to the voices of the people, and 
 only made just remonstrances that she must 
 control herself, must be more than mortal. 
 To be loved once at least before her death ! 
 Might she not wish that.? Was she to be 
 denied what was permitted to all, merely 
 because from it might be forged the axe 
 which would give her forever to Orcus .? 
 Because spies watched her every step ? Must 
 she be forbidden td obey the impulse of her 
 
 232 
 
Lsis : " Have 
 listen to the 
 the Circus ? 
 wisdom, all 
 3 me again 
 ves or the 
 :ary dancers 
 You think 
 are utterly 
 
 I, she could 
 1 upon the 
 e struggled 
 ipprove the 
 > that they 
 3nest men, 
 unded her. 
 irhaps had 
 2ople, and 
 
 she must 
 an mortal. 
 Iier death ! 
 she to be 
 
 II, merely 
 the axe 
 
 o Orcus .? 
 p ^ Must 
 Ise of her 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 lonely heart, which, for the first time had 
 found a heart .P Yes, it would ha^been 
 beau iful to love and to be loved Z \f 
 
 stL'riihr^^"^^^-^^--^ 
 
 s atue am d the corruption of this age an em 
 blem of all goodness, a second Lucr« a '^n 
 whom even the most venomous scand 'could 
 
 Jemanfor.homh^rs;^M-rncrdra:^ 
 
 Nay, mortals had often been trLported r,' 
 place among the gods ; perhaps the same fate 
 might be allotted to her ? A l„T tu , 
 Wni-fh,, „<■ • . • -^ l°'ty thought 
 
 I abrorbeH"'^"'"J '"'"^ J-'y' '•- i'^ -ke I 
 As absorbed m th,s conflict, she raised her 
 eyes to Andromachus, she met h;= ; ■ 
 gaze, and rising from h'er cushions wi hr^h' 
 he he£""" r""'"^ ^""" physical il'et' 
 phys c n °"no" ""'^ J^^^^"^'^ hand to The 
 
 almo t "'l ' '''''P' ^""^''^ "°"eed the 
 
 almost jealous expression on worthy Burrus"! 
 face; no one saw how fiercelv I,, • """'.^ 
 sword-hilt between hi finget ^"^^'^ '" 
 
 There comes our friend," exclaimpH <;.„ 
 - Metellus walked down the ha:i owa.d ^ ^^' 
 Octavu averted her face as soon as she peT: 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 ceived him, but quickly turned toward him 
 agam surveymg him with an admiring glance' 
 li-very movement stirred her soul ; there was a 
 charm in the melancholy droop of his head 
 which thrilled her whole being; yet she was 
 forced to maintain her imperial majesty when 
 she would so gladly, casting aside all restraint, 
 have appeared a simple woman. 
 
 Metellus came forward carelessly, as usual, 
 without heeding his surroundings. When he 
 had entered the circle, he noticed that all were 
 silent, and felt that they had probably been 
 talking about him. At the same time he saw 
 the dramatist, who sat with dilated eyes, the 
 image of terror and amazement. If his hair 
 had not been so long, it would certainly have 
 bristled on his head as he perceived that 
 Metellus, whose glance at first had been absent 
 was now looking at him more closelv ; but he 
 might console himself Even had 'the artist 
 recognized him as the beggar who, during the 
 night that he wandered through the st-eets of 
 Rome, had stolen his last denarius, he would 
 at most have smiled over the stoic's present 
 metamorphosis. But he did not know him 
 which fact made the poor poet, in his joy, 
 drink several cups of wine. 
 
 Octavia's struggle had ceased at the first 
 
 234 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 Her i,npena, digni.,. she^X rp^.n ^ 
 feeLngs, begg,ng the artist to draw hi, „ 
 likeness with a few str,>lc^= K *" 
 
 mirror held before hi™ A 1^'' "T^ "^ " 
 .tHe glass, and the royS' JytZZi 'Zf 
 'ng .t to him had a shade of defi nee as ,T^ h" 
 
 we^;t°^^-'*^-'>^'"-'^^^"Kv;iel::; 
 
 ""idi^y which pureLrLZ i Xt::! 
 
 :k:dth;n^To';r;"^ r-- -™ 
 
 u wny ne should draw himself. Octavl, 
 evaded the question, and when Metellus w ,h 
 his innocent want of tarf cf;ii '""'"5' ""th 
 M7P af K 1, T ' *"" 'Continued to 
 
 gaze at her, she began to be uncomfortable i„ 
 
 he presence of those who surrounded hfs: 
 avoided the look, which seemed to ask • ' ' n„ 
 happy one, what do vou want f„ V • l 
 Why do you disturb ^yX," 'sZ'tZ' 
 gaze as steadily as the sle'^^pe? feels t in 
 -f sun, and meanwhile h'ad th p^tfur on 
 
 wh;uo.ysuppor^:ier„t::s:tSrr 
 
 achus had often afforded her soul, tie ^ 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 seized with an emotion of self-contempt ; when 
 she saw the frowning brow of her teacher, 
 Seneca, she felt with shame how little honor she 
 was now doing to his wisdom. She would 
 gladly have avoided Burrus's sullen face too. 
 
 Scarcely a word was spoken while Metellus 
 sketched before the mirror, and the royal lady 
 carelessly watched him; an uncomfortable 
 silence brooded over the group, which was in- 
 terrupted only by the smacking of the poet's 
 tongue as, though already half intoxicated, he 
 continued to drink. 
 
 The artist sketched with a rapidity that 
 showed he would rather have studied some 
 other face than his own. He was wholly un- 
 conscious of his surroundings, and more than 
 once was tempted to lay down the brush and 
 ask the Empress : « Is your life really threat- 
 ened ^ " Though he did not see her, he felt her 
 presence surrounding him like a perfume ; and 
 the possibility that death might snatch her from 
 him lent her fresh charms in his eyes. He did 
 not know whether he loved her, and pondered 
 over the matter the less because he had very 
 vague ideas of love. 
 
 " It must be extremely difficult to draw by 
 the aid of a mirror," said Octavia, at last, to 
 break the silence, which had gradually become 
 
 236 
 
la 
 
 itempt; when 
 "her teacher, 
 ttle honor she 
 . She would 
 en face too. 
 'hile Metellus 
 'le royal lady 
 mcomfortable 
 which was in- 
 of the poet's 
 itoxicated, he 
 
 rapidity that 
 tudied some 
 IS wholly un- 
 id more than 
 e brush and 
 really threat- 
 sr, he felt her 
 erfume; and 
 Itch her from 
 ^es. He did 
 id pondered 
 he had very 
 
 : to draw by 
 a, at last, to 
 lally become 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 as oppressive as a block of glowing marble. 
 The poet rose as he heard the quesdon, and 
 waving a goblet gracefully in one hand, stag- 
 gered toward the group. ^ 
 "The credit of inventing this mode of taking 
 portraits he sa,d with a somewhat stammering 
 tongue, "belongs to us Greeks. It was a 
 
 ZT TkI -^"r'^^ ^''' thought of paint- 
 ing herself before the mirror." 
 
 Then precisely as if the question had been 
 addressed to him, he discussed Art, praised 
 those who honored it, condemned others, and 
 dilated at length upon his theories of painting, 
 which he could do the more undisturbed as no 
 one contradicted him, and Seneca was the only 
 person who listened. He had by no means 
 finished the first part of his discourse when a 
 slave came rushing in. 
 
 " The Emperor," he cried breathlessly, « the 
 Emperor is coming, with zither-players and 
 mimes. • ^ ^ 
 
 In fact the voices of a large number of 
 people, engaged in eager conversation, were 
 already heard approaching the hall from the 
 garden. Metellus was continuing to sketch ; 
 but Burrus snatched the sheet and flung i 
 hastily behmd a pillar; then while the others 
 hastened forward to meet the Csar, he tried 
 
 a37 
 
 .51' 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 to make the Empress understand by significant 
 glances the necessity for taking the step. The 
 artist had clenched his fists when the drawing 
 was torn from him, and was on the point of 
 demanding a reckoning with his enemy, who 
 measured him with reproachful glances. But 
 Octavia cast a beseeching glance at the wrath- 
 ul youth, whose clenched hands relaxed, while 
 his angry features regained their former com- 
 posure. Nero's appearance also instantly put 
 an end to the quarrel. 
 
 Preceded by two lictors, the C^sar, with 
 rustic pomposity, led the procession, which 
 consisted of flute-players, zither-players, and 
 mimes, and was followed by Petronius and 
 Popp^a Sabina. Nero had wound a toga 
 around his body in clumsy folds that made 
 him look almost like a rotund oil-jar, roses 
 hung over his brow, and his fat hands fingered 
 his hips. So, V ith a half-boyish, half-theatri- 
 cal manner, he strode towards his wife as clum- 
 sily as an Egyptian stone colossus, smiling at 
 her with his fat face. At first he pretended to 
 be surprised to find the Empress here, and 
 only a few detected the cheat, for, as a skilful 
 actor, he acquitted himself admirably in the 
 character he had assumed. 
 
 " Pardon me, if I disturb you," he said, 
 
 238 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 pointing to the ga. party, who bowed low be- 
 fore the Empress. "I wanted to afford my- 
 self a httle amusement. Some excellent actors 
 ot pantomime have arrived from Greece, ad- 
 mirable artists! It is fortunate that you 
 happen to be m the gardens. Let us ^try 
 the,r sk.ll together. I think you will not 
 object ,f they delight our eyes with a play " 
 °"^"» ^"' I'" '^^"d i" token of Assent 
 
 bti^o7rt,'r"^''^''""^p'''"-t;e 
 
 back of the hall, surveyed the scene. The 
 Empress would gladly have avoided the play 
 nay, she already had a suitable apology on her' 
 lips; but though she despised her husband, hs 
 presence exerted a certain constraint, a pow 
 over her nervous system, as though she was 
 
 som 'r^: u ""'™"""g '^' outbursts of 
 some mcalculable power of nature. She could 
 not elp obeying him, and it was a sLgukr 
 fact that s,„ce the death of Britannicus, her 
 
 awfher rr^'r "" ''^Sinning almo t to 
 awe her. The mfluence emanating from this 
 man was hke the alarming paralyzing efSct of 
 an approaching thunderstorm. It was not 
 
 because she feared him, the rascally skill t 
 d ss,mulat,on. the easy unscrupulousness which 
 
 of ht fo7^^« ""'' *' ""^''^'' ^"''hed her 
 of her former firmness. Not only she herself 
 
 '39 
 
Empresj: Octavia 
 
 but every one since that day, had seemed, in 
 the Emperor's presence, like flies whose wings 
 had been torn off by a cruel boy. 
 
 Smiling patronizingly, thoroughly content 
 with himself, the dreaded sovereign sat down 
 beside Octavia; the others grouped themselves 
 about the hall ; and his smile, as he now ordered 
 the play to begin, was as kind as the operator's 
 who, cutting into his patient's flesh, says : 
 "Only keep quiet, my friend, you will soon 
 be better ! " 
 
 " What long-haired flag-pole is that ? " he 
 asked, turning to Octavia, as his eyes fell upon 
 the poet, who had been trying to attract at- 
 tention by all sorts of striking attitudes and 
 frantic gesticulations. Seneca informed him; 
 and Nero, who liked to have authors patron- 
 ized at his court, ordered the poor parasite to 
 approach him and addressed him as " honorable 
 colleague." The long-haired dramatist, al- 
 most breathless from rapture and embarrass- 
 ment, bowed repeatedly; the Caesar inquired 
 about the drama, and, although he must have 
 seen that the fellow was not fully in possession 
 of his senses, treated him very graciously, 
 respectfully, nay, almost humbly, and even 
 extended his hand to him, saying : " Only 
 continue, my friend ; the laurel grows for every 
 
 240 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 brow. I hope you know that I ,„yse|f some 
 t.".es serve the Muses. What do you th"„k 
 of my ' Niobe ' ? " ' "'"'' 
 
 The Cjesar evidently waited with anxiefv 
 
 for the op,n,o„ of his colle,ague, bent i, s e,d 
 
 o catch h,s answer, and, when the verdict v™ 
 
 made' hVr- '""""'' '"Z™"^'' 'hat he Td 
 made the acquaintance of a discerning man 
 The poet, cleverly taking advantage of he 
 opportun.ty, now colored his praise ml 
 h.g ly, and Nero, who could receive a gt" 
 
 ^o h'" ." '■"'' ""™^'' '"'-"y. "otion ing 
 » the others not to interrupt the speaker 
 The dramatist was scarcely dismissed, when 
 
 pe ed to'th '""f '''t ' ''^'^ "' -'--^^ »'"^- 
 
 h,m Try to get possession of his drama 
 
 '^;^':St '•'""''; if it is bad, spread it"" 
 Meanwhile two mimes, very beanfif,, i 
 
 formed youths had taken 'their 'plasS 
 he dark yew-hedge, while two flute-plave s 
 
 he left" f ,7''^" ^'""""^'1 themselves' 
 
 the left of the spectators. A herald called 
 
 ^neas and Dido will be danced " ' 
 
 The exquisite figures of the dancers were 
 
 charmingly relieved against the dark folh" 
 
 above which arched the deep blue sky £' 
 
 -n shone on their anointed,';erfum.d Us 
 
 241 ' 
 
3' 
 
 1 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 lending them the shimmer of marhle. The 
 one who personated Dido was barely eighteen, 
 and, as he tied on his mask, every one noticed 
 that it bore, by accident, a resemblance to 
 Octavia's features. How Metellus, when he 
 perceived this, envied the dancer, who, as the 
 flutes now strove to imitate tlie rumble of a 
 thunderstorm, darted off, scarcely touching 
 the ground. The other, who was somewhat 
 older, carried a quiver of arrows and a spear. 
 Soon he, too, rushed into the dance. Dido 
 shrank back; the music grew more melting, 
 the dancing less rapid. Softer and softer 
 grew the harmonies; the movements of the 
 youths followed the yearning tones; they no 
 longer danced singly but together, while the 
 language of their hands became more eloquent. 
 The lad of eighteen represented Dido's tim- 
 idity admirably ; she repelled and lured at the 
 same time, encouraged and restrained, i^neas 
 embraced her; the pair stood motionless a 
 moment, graceful as statues, then she released 
 herself and fled ; he pursued, and she, swaying 
 to the sweetest tones, paused full of trembling 
 expectation. iEneas timidly approached, lay- 
 ing his hand upon her arm. The spectators 
 were excited to the utmost, for the scene which 
 now followed described the conquest of the 
 
 242 
 
 .a 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 grace of motion, an artistically refined sensu- 
 al.ty. which not only supplied the pi . e of 
 words but ..,„,,,ed more than theVcoJd 
 
 yeded and hn=us kissed her, endless ap- 
 [oined. " '°"''* '" '"''='' ^^"^"- ^1- 
 
 The Empress had watched the play with 
 fixed eyes, as if she wished to shake 'Iff ts 
 
 trary, had received, as it by magic, revelations 
 concerning the nature of love. H now knew 
 what he desired ; the music had whispered wliaT 
 
 'Z/Tt-'''' f«g-d -dor of the dancer had 
 Kindled his courage, transformed the modest 
 boy into a bold man. His fevered gCce 
 met Octavia's fixed, startled eyes; she fd 1 1 ' 
 youths ga^e, yet did not turn her head bu 
 sa as though cast in bronze; and Nero' w 
 th plav *"" !"11"-'-" how she liked 
 self a -f f '^ """' ^'^'"'' '""^'"S her- 
 
 had t J°'" ' T°'' ^he replied that it 
 had by no means pleased her taste. 
 
 During the whole performance Petroniu, 
 
 and th:V°^' ^'^'' °' ^'' "«■-' Metellu 
 and the Empress, and his observations seemed 
 
 243 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 M 
 
 to have satisfied him; for when the Cssar 
 rose, he nodded as if in confirmation 
 
 Nero asked to see the portrait bust of 
 Octavia which had been commenced. The 
 Empress, still absorbed by her own thoughts 
 motioned to her slaves and was about to re- 
 tire to her own apartments; but Andromachus 
 pressing his way through the group, whis- 
 pered to her that she must stay, this hasty 
 withdrawal might give opportunity for all 
 sorts of interpretations. With compressed 
 Jips downcast eyes, and pallid face, she stood 
 beside her clay bust, which, meanwhile, had 
 been brought, steadying her trembling figure 
 by resting her left hand on the back of a 
 chair, while her husband, smiling pleasantly, 
 pointed out the beauties of the bust He 
 undoubtedly perceived his wife's agitation, for 
 his smile revealed unusual satisfaction 
 ^^ "Just see this line ! " he said to his courtiers ; 
 how beautiful it is; with what youthful grace 
 It runs into the neck ; and what sweet mel- 
 ancholy rests upon this brow! Yet Art has 
 but stumbled lamely after nature ; our sculptor 
 must confess that he will never catch the 
 beauty of the mouth." 
 
 Then, turning to Metellus, whose eyes were 
 glittering with a feverish lustre, he asked, sud- 
 
 244 
 
 ■■■"■i«-i^iri.--iiirft- 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 denly assuming a foolish, waggish exnr. • 
 whether the neclc was re lly ^2 so'^ir"""' 
 the original ? And when MeteJ ,,! ^ '" 
 
 ■"g the movement whTch ! " h "°' ."" '" 
 group of spectators, renlL th l'' ""' 
 
 ■"ight be shortened lilt ' v. ^"^"P' '" 
 
 fidelity to nature K-w::fd°" T'j 
 natured tone,— *>»erea in a good- 
 
 with°th ^'' ' "^^ "'■" =''°«™ « a little r " 
 P^«- a languishing Wer h^Ssr^: 
 
 out^^stgternt^ '^i ^-^^""^"'^ -•'"- 
 
 After reaching :he™sh' of T "' ^"^""- 
 several times 111^/?' ^ ^"^ "P ""'' down 
 first timeTn ht life ^o"""' " T^' '""^ '^e 
 'ong ere she succeeded i^T' 'T • '' ™^ 
 troubled soul. Sheltiil.H h^"" "'"'"g her 
 forced herself to 1 ^ ''" P^"""g breath, 
 the advanLge IT' ''"'f'^' ^"'i '^^^^d 
 afford in thf f,:t ""''' "'""'"8 ""'^ 
 her own astonill T"'' °^ ''^'' f", to 
 
 flection in expiS" the h' r,""""'^ ''^ - 
 hlind impulse ^ ''"" movements of 
 
 The Emperor's last words .sp,.™.^ . • ■ 
 mate that she wn„l^ , ^^^med to inti- 
 
 she would not long enjoy the light 
 245 ° 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 of the sun, and although prepared for death, 
 the cold sentence had pierced her warm heart 
 like a sword, robbed her for the moment of 
 all self-control. Besides, she suddenly began, 
 she knew not why, to fear Metellus. She 
 had no suspicion of Nero's plans ; she did 
 not guess what he intended to accomplish 
 through the young man ; but the play just 
 witnessed, which had described in such vivid 
 detail the madness of love, had showed her, 
 as in a mirror, the consequences of her passion, 
 and she shrank in terror from herself. What 
 could long remain concealed at this court.'' 
 And if her love should become known, the 
 Emperor would have found a safe means of 
 justifying his deed of violence to the people ; 
 that he was trying to obtain this method she 
 did not think. She feared Metellus, not only 
 because he might be the cause of her death, 
 but her delicate nature shrank from a closer 
 union with him ; the dance of the mimes, pleas- 
 ing as it was, had dragged love down to the 
 level of human nature, and this human love, 
 of which, hitherto, she had thought only as 
 if it were a dream, disgusted her. What had 
 encouraged Metellus, disheartened her, made 
 her fly from the young man as a sinister 
 
 power, revealed him to her as the hideous 
 
 246 
 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 soiler of her pure soul. And yet she loved 
 the lovable fellow! Mortal terror, shame, 
 and yearning blended so strangely in her soul,' 
 each of these feelings increased by the demands 
 of the other, till at last the feminine one con- 
 quered, and she was overpowered by the deliri- 
 ous rapture against which neither 'reason nor 
 education avail, since it springs from a source 
 that is unintelligible and supernatural. 
 
 "What shall I do?" she asked herself. 
 " Let me touch his lips but once, then the 
 headsman's dutch can tear me from the light 
 of day." She had thrown herself on the couch 
 with her face hidden on her arms, and suddenly 
 smarted up as she felt a warm breath upon her 
 hair. Meroe was bending over her mistress, 
 and, as comedy so often blends with tragedy 
 m life, Octavia, in springing up, struck the 
 good creature violently on the chin with the 
 jewelled ornament in her hair. The girl, with 
 the drollest grimaces, tried to hide her pain ; 
 and her mistress, giving herself up entirely to 
 her feelings for a moment, embraced her at- 
 tendant. She did not weep ; the muscles which 
 bring tears quivered, but they did not flow. 
 
 Meroe played with her mistress's hair, and, 
 half smiling, half angry, gripped her wounded 
 chin. Why did Octavia cling to her so? 
 
 247 
 
 mi 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 Why did her lips move without uttering any 
 words ? She relapsed into her usual childish 
 mood, began to sing a lullaby, and then talked 
 in a tone of rapture about Metellus. But she 
 was greatly astonished when Octavia, hastilv 
 controlling herself, stopped her. 
 
 "Why mustn't I talk about him any 
 more ? she asked in a half singing tone « I 
 dream about him so much at night, I can't 
 help thinking of him all day too." 
 
 But her mistress answered , 
 
 " Silence, it wearies me." 
 " Ye godi, how pale vou look to-day, Mis- 
 tress, she murmured. « Shall I bring your 
 red Babylonian rouge? And your eyes are 
 so red, I will fetch the r S;te Egyptian salve." 
 Octavia nodded, anr sat motionless while 
 Meroe was bringing the salves. 
 
 "What is it, what have you here.?" she 
 exclaimed when the slave-girl began to ar- 
 range the boxes on the table. 
 
 " Only the rouge," laughed Meroe. 
 " The rouge ? " 
 " Which you wanted." 
 "Wanted.? 1?" asked her mistress, and 
 ordered her to take them away. 
 
 "Then put on your : v .obe," pleaded 
 Meroe, or will you tal' ', r. ; ± ? " 
 
 2if3 • 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 m 
 
 The Empress shook her head. 
 
 "Well then, I will sing you an Egyptian 
 love-song. ^^^ 
 
 But Octavia refused this too. 
 
 " By Osiris, we will disguise ourselves and 
 walk through the streets of Rome," the talka- 
 tive girl proposed. 
 
 " No, Meroe, be sensible," said her mistress, 
 reprovingly. ' 
 
 _' Not that either.?" cried the slave-girl. 
 
 Then I 11 send for gladiators ; we will see 
 bleeding and dying men." 
 
 " Do not summon the dead too soon ' " 
 
 " What, Mistress ? " 
 ^^ " Be sensible, Meroe," sair^ Octavia, gravely ; 
 do you not know that y.ur mistress must 
 soon die .? " 
 
 The word "die" sounded strangely to the 
 slave-girl; she looked bewildered, and as 
 Octavia, startled that it had escaped her lips 
 remained silent, the Egyptian laughed merrii v! 
 Die .? she cried. " By the Nile ! I never 
 saw you as you seem to-day. An Empress 
 die! That is impossible. Die! How funny!" 
 And she capped her hands, stiU laughirg. 
 The sound hurt her mistress, though she bore 
 he foolish girl no grudge for it ; it represented 
 the lack of sympathy of the world. 
 
 249 
 
 H 
 «[ 
 
Empress OctaviV 
 
 "Go," she sa,d, fixing; a stern, reproachful 
 «ance upon Meroe; "that is wi ked, that" 
 alfogether lo.. absurd." 
 
 a.e did not know he.,elf what she had said 
 
 at the absence of me„,i„g in her words. But 
 oth,„g better oecurred to her; her brain was 
 
 buried 1!' h" T'^' ""'' '" '"' ''^gg- ^^^"ed 
 bulled m her breast. But her mistress's re 
 
 proving gh,nce had amused rather than sad- 
 dened Meroe Afi-^,. „ , . 
 
 the mVI h Ju . P^"'^' ^"'•'"g which 
 
 he g,rl had been turnn.g her forefinger in the 
 rouge-pot she pressed it on the end of her 
 nose, saying, 
 
 " Die ? What is that ? I know how a dead 
 person looks, but not how he feels " 
 
 Then she again laughed, this time at her red 
 finger, and hit upon the idea of painting ha f 
 her face scar et with the rouge, declarinl with 
 a yawn that the dulness was killing her. 
 
 If I were like this child," thought the 
 Empress, noticing that the girl, turniifg away 
 from her, drew something from the fofds of 
 her robe, and held it close before her eyes 
 As her contemplation of the object lasted an 
 unusually long time, Octn.ia's attention be- 
 came attracted, -a su., ' ion arose in her 
 m.nd, and she demar . . an explanation^ 
 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 slipped the article into the folds of her robe 
 and turned with a crafty smile 
 
 "Guess who it is," she said. Her mistress 
 
 wished to go to the bottom of the matter; a 
 little dispute arose, and after much ro.u sh 
 hesitation, Meroe drew out the piece of papyrus 
 containing the half-finished sketch of Metellus 
 which Burrus had torn so rudely from h 
 artist s hand. 
 
 I f" ^'^'.''}'}'.^'" "!<=d the girl ; " it is his face 
 I found ,t behmd a pillar in the audience-hall " 
 Octav,a repressed her excitement, that she 
 might gam possession of the papyrus without 
 arousmg susp.con ; but all her eloquence would 
 not mduce Meroe to surrender her treasure 
 wh.ch she declared Metellus had put behind 
 the pdlar intenaonally, that she might discover 
 .t_ She refused even the ornament that was 
 offered, pressed the picture to her lips, and 
 danced up and down the room with it, hum- 
 mmg the commencement of an Egyptian love- 
 
 After Octavia had watched the happy girl 
 fo a fme almost with envy, a plan entered her 
 m md wh,ch m,ght possibly relieve her from 
 the susp,c,on restmg upon her, and restore her 
 to her former position in the eyes of her 
 
r 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 friends Scorning all secret paths, she had 
 often been forced at this court to enter devious 
 ways ; enforced companionship with vice had 
 brought even wise Seneca's head into contro- 
 versy with his heart; Octavia therefore deemed 
 herself sufficiently justified, if, as a woman, 
 lacking every weapon, she sought refuge in 
 strategy. Even the bravest love life, or, at 
 least sometimes fear death ; in Octavia's breast 
 a sudden sense of fear drove out every other 
 consideration. « Escape for the moment i " 
 cried a voice in her heart. « Let Meroe keep 
 the picture, and hang it, if possible, in her 
 sleeping-room. Any love-affair will be for- 
 given her ; she will avert suspicion from me • 
 and what, after all, is love.? Can I not do 
 without ,t ? Am I not sufficient for myself? 
 l^o I need the sympathy oi' another? Time 
 will help me calm my captivated imagination ; 
 and dost thou even know, oft deluded heart 
 whether thou art not again deceiving thyself? 
 Thou seest a god in this man ! Who knows 
 what thou wouldst think of him in a few 
 months.? How many a pr^tor whom thou 
 didst believe to be a man of lofty qualities 
 afterwards proved himself a base adventurer ' 
 how many a noble countenance was but the 
 mask of selfish designs I " 
 
 252 
 
L 
 
 hs, she had 
 :nter devious 
 th vice had 
 into contro- 
 :fbre deemed 
 3 a woman, 
 t refuge in 
 
 Jife, or, at 
 ivia's breast 
 every other 
 moment ! " 
 leroe keep 
 ble, in her 
 ill be for- 
 
 from me ; 
 I I not do 
 3r myself? 
 2r? Time 
 lagination ; 
 ded heart, 
 ig thyself? 
 'ho knows 
 
 m a few 
 hom thou 
 
 qualities, 
 [venturer ; 
 3 but the 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 Ordenng a stylus and papyrus to be brought 
 to her at once, she wrote a long letter to 
 the Emperor, in which she entreated him to 
 give up the completion of her bust, and send 
 the young artist away from the court, as the 
 latter's conduct was not exactly what she de- 
 sired Was it not better for him, as well as 
 tor her, that he should leave the palace? 
 Reading the letter over, she was startled by 
 the undue harshness of its expressions ; she 
 hastily corrected a few sentences which sug- 
 gested a relation between the sculptor and one 
 of the Empress's attendants, but could not 
 resolve to send it in this form, and tore it up 
 ashamed of the feminine cowardice which had 
 dictated it. Yet she resolved never to see 
 Metellus again, and, whenever he appeared 
 before her mental vision, to subject him to in- 
 exorable criticism and pitilessly destroy every 
 bewitching charm that imagination strove to 
 weave about his image. 
 
 _ When Burrus visited her, later in the eve 
 ning, he found her apparently mentally aged 
 She was dining alone, served by a single maid- 
 servant, in the solitary, spacious apartment. 
 Ihe candelabrum faintly lighted the table 
 leaving the rest of the room in darkness. Be- 
 htn.vher stood her major-domo, to whom she 
 
 253 
 
 *«% 
 
r 
 
 I 'i 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 sometimes addressed a careless question. It 
 seemed as if a corpse was dining, she took the 
 dishes with such mechanical slowness, raised 
 her h.avy uci. so wearily, appeared so utterly 
 indifferent to everything around her. The 
 magnificence of the floor, the gilding of pilkrs 
 and furniture, which glittered in the reflection 
 ot the light, only enhanced the sorrowful effect 
 of the scene. She ate because it is customary 
 to eat, not from necessity. Honest Burrus 
 watched her a long time with a gloomy face • 
 his eyes, which had never wept, now glittered 
 with a rioister lustre than ev- before Oua 
 via did not speak to him. The major-domo 
 in the dim light, was talking with a lowei 
 functionary about Sabina's toilet arts The 
 giggling of the two indicated that piquant 
 goss!^ping tales were not omitted. 
 
 ''She will soon be a fallen star, too," hissed 
 one, and as Burrus turned, the major-domo, to 
 ^iiow his zeal, kicked a young slav, who had 
 fallen asleep on the floor. The little sleeper 
 started up. '^xclaimini; : « Has the cock crowed? " 
 and the loud words brokr strangely upon the 
 solemn stillju;ss of the room. 
 
 Ju9^ as the Empress had finished dining 
 Andr ac 's appeared, and glanced anxiously 
 at Bu: us, who, whispering a few words to his 
 
 254 
 
via 
 
 s question. It 
 g, she took the 
 lowness, raised 
 ared so utterly 
 nd her. The 
 Iding of pillars 
 1 the reflection 
 sorrowful effect 
 it is customary 
 lonest Burrus 
 
 gloomy face; 
 
 now glittered 
 lefore. Oci- 
 
 major-domo 
 with a lowei 
 it arts. The 
 
 that piquant 
 
 , too," hissed 
 ajor-domo, to 
 avt who had 
 little sleeper 
 )ck: crowed?" 
 ely upon the 
 
 shed dining, 
 ed anxiously 
 ^ords to his 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 friend, withdrew. Andromachus went to the 
 table, and as Octavia, pushing aside a dish from 
 before her, looked up at him, he laid his hand 
 with paternal affect,on. upon the white brow of 
 this woman of twenty. For an instant her face 
 qu.vered with pain at the tender touch; then 
 her expression ^r^^ grave to the verge of 
 sternness, but uc the same time she whispered, 
 
 mbng to deceive the slaves who were V- 
 ent. W warning did not come too late • 
 you will be satisfied with my conduct in future.' 
 i shall not see him again." 
 
 While uttering the words she had risen 
 perhaps to conceal her agitation. Androma- 
 chus also smiling, although his heart was 
 bleeding, answered,—. 
 
 " I thank you. To-day's play tells me that 
 you have the worst to fear." 
 
 Casting a suspicious glance at the dishes he 
 clasped the Empress's hand to feel her Tjlse 
 The latter understood him. ^ 
 
 Jti?^ "°' of '"'''''"'' ' ^'" P'-^v.ded wi^h 
 antidotes. She smiled as unconstrair. divas 
 
 tearures a few seconds ere they resumed the 
 expressionless rigidity of renrL..^ 
 Andrnmo.k V ^^^pressed passions. 
 
 Andromachus remembered that Agrippina pos- 
 sessed such remedies; the lutter had' probably 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 supplied the Empress with them. This was 
 really the case ; Octavia had carried wirh her 
 for several days a little silver box filled with 
 pills, which Agrippina had given her. 
 
 " It will be wise," Andromachus continued, 
 glancing timidly around, " if you would thank 
 the Emperor for the pleasure which the per- 
 formance of the actors has afforded you." 
 
 As she looked at him questioningly, he 
 added : " In order to dispel the suspicion that 
 you guessed his thoughts." 
 
 Octavia's lips curled in anger; but she could 
 not disapprove the well-meant counsel of her 
 faithful friend; it had become the custom at 
 court to meet the Emperor's plots by appar- 
 ently falling in with them, in order to defer 
 them. 
 
 ** I suppose I ought also to thank him for his 
 amiable criticism of my bust ? " she exclaimed 
 with a short, piercing laugh. A slave who en- 
 tered to fan the flame of the candelabrum forced 
 both to pause in their conversation. 
 
 " Mistress, you are making my hard task 
 easier," said the leech, after the attendant had 
 retired ; " listen to me." 
 
 This time not only his brow, but almost his 
 entire face was furrowed by wrinkles, as if 
 drawn with pain. 
 
 256 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 You know that the Cii-<!ir h,,.. 
 Well thpn I -ri, . "'<: "-nisar hates you. 
 weii then ! There ,s only one way of turn 
 ng the thunderbolt aside/and it bea^ " ,^ 
 resemblance to the expedient used by Senec " 
 1 he phys.can paused, scanning Octavia's f-,ce 
 After some time he continued _ 
 
 because he knew that, to obtain this fortune 
 Nero longed for his life. Yesterday Nero 
 en.braced the philosopher, declaring thL ,^v r 
 
 wou d he harm a ha,r of his teafher's eld 
 Tl. ,s the „,ore credible because SenecS 
 
 ow;:.tr'-'';'"-/°"'°'''™^»'Mistr::s 
 
 now that the sight of you is annoying to the 
 
 "Banish ! " cried the Empress, so loud that 
 Andromachus looked around hm in termor 
 lest some of the attendants had caugh the 
 eeho^of^the word reverberating from tfe m'ar! 
 
 "And you expect me to stoop to such 
 
 from S^°;>'° "''°'" ' ''-^ '°oked up 
 from childhood? You, my teacher'" she 
 
 hTLTHei;:,^=^'°-'''^-"^""pt 
 
 re^Ii'd^TLIh"^ :tTr-r^'' '-''" 
 
 ,, ,^' ^^ 't humiliation, when I 
 
 257 
 
' -^ i . 
 
 w 
 
 ■III 
 ■ \>' 
 
 m 
 
 fl 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 appeal to generosity ? Or when I outwit cun- 
 ning ? By Zeus, I would not advise it, were 
 it not necessary for you to dissemble in this 
 case. The Emperor will refuse your petition, 
 and assure you of his friendship ; he cannot 
 do otherwise, since public opinion forces him 
 to it. But your life will be saved by the 
 hurmliation — " 
 
 "Saved? For how long?" replied the 
 Empress, vehemently. 
 
 "A few months at least," replied her friend, 
 sorrowfully ; " when we cherish new fears, we 
 will devise new antidotes." 
 
 " No, Andromachus, the daughter of Clau- 
 dius will not stoop to such degrading expedi- 
 ents," replied the wife of Nero. " Let the 
 terrible monster do with me what he will, I 
 will neither sue for mercy nor seek refuge in 
 other subterfuges. How long can you escape 
 the tiger with whom you are confined in the 
 same arena? " 
 
 Turning away in embarrassment, the leech 
 endeavored to convince the Empress of the 
 necessity of his proposal ; but neither the ex- 
 ample of Seneca, nor the other arguments which 
 he brought forward, could change the royal 
 lady's resolution. She left the room, giving 
 orders to admit no visitors. 
 
 258 
 
 ^.: 
 
la 
 
 I outwit cun- 
 idvise it, were 
 ;emble in this 
 your petition, 
 p ; he cannot 
 3n forces him 
 saved by the 
 
 replied the 
 
 ed her friend, 
 new fears, we 
 
 ;hter of Clau- 
 ading expedi- 
 ). " Let the 
 lat he will, I 
 eek refvige in 
 in you escape 
 nfined in the 
 
 ;nt, the leech 
 ipress of the 
 either the ex- 
 uments which 
 ige the royal 
 room, giving 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 " Then your friends must act for you," cried 
 Andromachus, and went in search of Burrus. 
 
 It was about this time that Agrippina left 
 Rome to go to Baiae. When Nero's mother 
 appeared in Octavia's apartments, the Empress 
 at first appeared wholly inaccessible ; but when 
 she perceived that Agrippina, with a certain 
 grandeur of character, alluded to her own 
 speedy death, it aroused the younger woman's 
 sympathies so deeply that the two at last 
 parted from each other with mutual regard. 
 
 "He will send me to Orcus before you," 
 Agrippina had said ; " yet I am proud of hav- 
 ing given the world an Emperor of Rome." 
 
 (if 
 
 SitI 
 
 259 
 
 m 
 
1 1 
 
 i ; 
 
 I i 
 
 111 f 
 
 i ^ 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 SINCE the performance of the play, a strange 
 transformation had taken place in Metel- 
 lus. Stephanus often saw him sitting silently 
 in a chair, gazing into vacancy, or wandering 
 along the garden paths with the step of an in- 
 valid. Sometimes he tried to exhaust his bod- 
 ily strength by severe physical exercises, rushed 
 as though tortured by mental anxiety from his 
 room into the open air, and from the open air 
 back again into his room ; sometimes he lay 
 idly, wearily, on his couch, and, forgetting the 
 outside world, gave himself up to his thoughts. 
 " Oh, if I had but been able to keep the oath 
 I made to my friend," he often reflected. " I 
 should have kept aloof from woman ! " 
 
 If the boy nestled affectionately to his side 
 
 askmg what troubled him, he usually received 
 
 the reply that he would not understand. 
 
 "I shall understand, if you explain it to 
 
 me," the little fellow answered; "I am not 
 
 stupid." 
 
 " Your turn will come, too, some day," his 
 master answered ; " only have patience." 
 
 260 
 
play, a strange 
 lace in Metel- 
 itting silently 
 or wandering 
 ;tep of an in- 
 aust his bod- 
 rcises, rushed 
 iety from his 
 the open air 
 times he lay 
 brgetting the 
 his thoughts, 
 eep the oath 
 reflected. " I 
 in!" 
 
 ' to his side, 
 ally received 
 ?tand. 
 
 xplain it to 
 " I am not 
 
 le day," his 
 ence." 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 Then he embraced and kissed Stephanus 
 trying to beheve that the love of this forsaken 
 waif might divert his passion. Often he suc- 
 ceeded in turning his thoughts elsewhere; but 
 he always felt as if he missed something. The 
 boy, m his undeveloped nature, suspected what 
 was occupying his master's mind, and almost 
 felt jealous He became quieter, more sullen • 
 at which the artist, when he finally suspected' 
 the cause ofthe change, smiled. 
 
 " Come here, my pet," said Metellus ; "don't 
 be angry, you know that I am fond of you." 
 
 The boy turned sulkily away, and Metellus, 
 laughing, asked why he was so cross. As he 
 received no answer, he sat down beside him on 
 the hon-skin of the couch, and tried to talk 
 pleasantly to him. Stephanus listened intently, 
 
 tttfurh.''^''="^^--^^----4 
 
 "What.? Do I lie.?" 
 
 ;; Are you really not lying .? " asked the boy. 
 
 ^ Wow can you believe that I am .? " 
 
 " Give me your hand." 
 
 " There it is." 
 
 "And you are really fond of me.? " 
 
 child ryf:„'!..''''°"''"'''^^™^'^--"'y 
 
 " ^ ''°"'' ''^"^^^ yo"." said the lad, sl,ali;- 
 
 261 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 ing^hisherd, "you are more fond of other 
 
 toTetlf"^^'""^"^- '''''"^ ^'™' ='"d promised 
 to get h,m the reed-p,pe he wanted that very day 
 
 Andromachus had tried to make friends 
 
 w. h the arfst, and, on the prete= that he 
 
 not,ced a nervous disease about him, advised 
 
 cr,t V ^""'t '^g^P' "™'d be the 
 
 country o restore h,s nervous system. A 
 
 sh,p was lymg in the harbor of Ostia, bound 
 
 for Alexandrm, and he himself would gladly 
 
 Metellus declared that he felt perfectly well 
 
 At present," said the physician, " but the 
 disease ,s one whose development is very rapid 
 
 that we leeches are usually lovers of Art, I 
 shoud be glad, f I could preserve vour life." 
 dosilly '""" ™"^'" '^P"^-^ '"^ y-'h. 
 
 An^fomactf''"''^'"""'''-'"^^''-'^^^ 
 
 " Well ? What then ?" returned Metellus 
 ^hruggmg h,s shoulders. When the physician' 
 obstmately persisted in his counsel, a feeling 
 of defiance began to stir in the sculptor, who 
 vaguely suspected his true motive. He an! 
 swered more sharply, refused all advice, and 
 
 262 
 
via 
 
 : fond of other 
 
 i, and promised 
 ■d that very day. 
 make friends 
 3rete that he 
 It him, advised 
 would be the 
 IS system. A 
 r Ostia, bound 
 would gladly 
 the journey, 
 rfectly well, 
 ian, " but the 
 
 ■ is very rapid, 
 -e ; you know 
 srs of Art, I 
 
 ■ your life. 
 
 2d the youth, 
 
 me?" asked 
 
 ed Metellus, 
 :he physician 
 '?Jj a feeling 
 :ulptor, who 
 e. He an- 
 advice, and 
 
 *- 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 at last became so disagreeable that the leech 
 was obliged to leave him. 
 
 " You will regret having refused my offer," 
 he said as he went away ; and Metellus called 
 after him, — 
 
 " What affair is it of yours .? " 
 Greatly dissatisfied with himself, and most 
 pamfully conscious of his selfishness, Metellus 
 had wandered through the streets of Rome 
 one day to buy a copy of Virgil. In the 
 book-shop he entered the publisher was talking 
 with a young author about the market for the 
 newest books. While, in the adjoining rooms, 
 slaves were busily writing a work from dicta- 
 tion, the publisher, holding a roll in his hand, 
 said to the very modest-looking author: 
 rour poems are really extremely beautiful 
 strong, and full of feeling ; I have read no 
 better verses for a long time ; but, my friend, 
 lyric poetry is entirely out of fashion in Rome 
 We want salt, not milk. Epigrams, not sweet 
 love-songs. The sharper the satire, the better 
 it pleases." 
 
 " I have no satirical vein," replied the youne 
 writer, sighing. ^ 
 
 "That is a pity," observed the publisher, 
 dryly; « but the vein will be developed when 
 you have seen the Roman world for a while. 
 
 263 
 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 IIP' 
 
 B 
 
 ■;i!i! 
 
 I , ( ■ 
 
 I advKse you to visit the taverns, or become 
 reader to a nch man. That is a good school." 
 1 hen he returned the manuscript to the 
 poet, saying again that the verses were remark- 
 ably fine. Meanwhile Metellus had been 
 adm.nng the books bound in purple displayed 
 long he walls; but when, judging the contents 
 by the buulmg, he took out one of them to 
 enjoy the w.sdom of a Plato in beautifully 
 wntten letters, he restored the supposed Plato, 
 blushng, to ,ts place. The magnificent bind- 
 ing contained a scurrilous story whose title was 
 
 foTvf •l'.''^'^ '"^ ^'^^'^^ P^'-^^"- Asking 
 for V.rg,|, he received a book whose outward 
 
 appearance d.d not bear the slightest compar- 
 ison to the wretched tale. The publisher 
 shrugged his shoulders. ^ 
 
 " You must write such works," he said to the 
 young ,,,hor ; «.then, my friend, you would not 
 lack money from me." 
 
 The timid, hungry-looking poet shook his 
 
 head and left the shop ;whilt the book-selle 
 turmng to the others, remarked, - 
 
 "A very talented fellow. But, ve gods 
 how can I help him P Critics wo'uld^iLte' 
 him or tear h.m to pieces as a hungry wolf 
 
la 
 
 ns, or become 
 good school." 
 script to the 
 were remark- 
 is had been 
 ■pie displayed 
 I the contents 
 - of them to 
 n beautifully 
 )posed Plato, 
 lificent bind- 
 lose title was 
 3n. Asking 
 ose outward 
 test compar- 
 e publisher 
 
 e said to the 
 'u would not 
 
 : shook his 
 book-seller, 
 
 ', ye gods, 
 
 'uld silence 
 
 jngry wolf 
 
 money to 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 When Metellus had bought the Virgil, he 
 went to the bank of the river to see the land- 
 ing of the wild beasts which had been sent 
 from Africa to the imperial gardens. For 
 some time he had found pleasure in stupefying 
 his thoughts with vivid, savage scenes ; only 
 strong impressions could divert his mind from 
 its perpetual visions and reflections. Passing 
 through a dirty, narrow street, he felt the 
 handle of a stafl^ strike his knee, and, when he 
 turned, he started back in alarm as the ugly 
 features of a sunken-eyed Jewish woman 
 grinned at him from the dark doorway of a 
 house. 
 
 " What do you want, old witch ? " escaped 
 his lips, as the woman, beckoning to him with 
 her withered finger, looked around to see if 
 any one was watching her. 
 
 " Come into the house," she whispered. 
 
 Metellus, filled with loathing, could not 
 resolve to accept the invitation ; yet his curios- 
 ity was awakened, and he stood still. Shuffling 
 nearer to him, she cautiously drew from her 
 pocket a little silver box, rubbed it with her 
 gray under-garment till it shone, then blinking 
 roguishly at him, she whispered : "Can you 
 guess what I have here?" 
 
 " Poison ? " asked Metellus. 
 
 265 
 
Empress OctaWa 
 
 r;N 
 
 Oh ! For what do you take old Esther, 
 Rufuss mother?" she gasped. "Poison? 
 Why, yes ! If you want to give it that name, 
 
 TZ V°.' °'^'''' '^" '' ^y ^ d'ff^'-ent one." 
 No, I thank you," he replied. « I have 
 no enemies." 
 
 ^^ " You are a happy man," she murmured, 
 to have no foes. But stop a moment and 
 look at the mixture more carefully. Are there 
 not sweet poisons ? Poisons which prolong 
 li^e, mstead of shortening it? H'm. What 
 IS a kiss, you rogue, except poison ? " 
 
 " Let me alone," he muttered, turning to 
 go. s 
 
 "Don't scorn the old Jewess," she groaned, 
 clmging to his cloak ; « the Emperor himself 
 sometimes asks the aid of our arts, and Pop- 
 p«a Sabina prizes my cosmetics. Don't de- 
 spise old Esther; I wish you well, my boy 
 Cjuess what I have here?" 
 
 Then, opening the box, she smelled its con- 
 tents, and held it under Metellus's nose 
 
 " What fragrance ! " she said coughing ; 
 
 your sweetheart's breath is not sweeter ; may 
 
 Jehovah's wrath overtake me if I did not brew 
 
 this with my own hands and put mysterious 
 
 ingredients into it." 
 
 Then, rolling up her eyes till only the whites 
 
 266 
 
via 
 
 ike old Esther, 
 2d. « Poison ? 
 ve it that name, 
 '■ different one." 
 lied. "I have 
 
 she murmured, 
 1 moment and 
 Ily. Are there 
 which prolong 
 H'm. What 
 
 ' she groaned, 
 peror himself 
 irts, and Pop- 
 5. Don't de- 
 well, my boy. 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 were visible within the red rims, she sang in a 
 shrill tone a hymn that bore a strong resem- 
 blance to the Song of Solomon, but inter- 
 rupted herself at the words: "Thou art 
 beautiful, beloved, yes, beautiful" — and whis- 
 pered : " Three denarii, my master ! " Then 
 she went on singing: "Thou art beautiful, 
 yes, beautiful as the sun." Metellus suspected 
 that this was a love-philter. The blood rushed 
 to his brain; his heart throbbed when he 
 thought what happiness the little silver vessel 
 might bestow upon him. The old woman, 
 seemg his agitation, continued to praise the 
 mixture, and give directions for its use, in 
 doing which, as if by accident, she dropped 
 the little silver box. 
 
 Metellus picked it up, thrust it half reluc- 
 tantly into his pocket, and, at the same time, 
 let three denarii fall upon the ground. 
 
 " That 's right, young fellow," said the old 
 crone, coughing, "don't forget, one half of it 
 dissolved in wine." 
 
 Wondering at his hasty reso'-e, horrified at 
 himself, Metellus was hurrying away as fast as 
 possible, but was stopped by the appearance of 
 Rufus, who, in full armor, was coming down 
 the street and instantly clasped his hand. 
 "Have you been visiting my mother.?" 
 
 267 
 
•I 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 asked the soldier pointing to the old Jewess- 
 
 yo arew.se ; she is a clever woman/' ' 
 
 Kufuss haughty manner had chanced to .n 
 
 almost cnnging humilitv U "^7 ^° ^" 
 
 which caused LZZ it ""'"7 °*«^' 
 
 fevo. without losng tensL/rT' ^"'^ 
 nr. i,Vf.i L ° sense or independence 
 
 no JittJe embarrassment H^"uence, 
 
 w;°;LT.h'r:MU .?,°rir:' t 
 
 iisten to your commands " """ '° 
 
 Jewess retreated into a dark corner of ^he 
 d.rty d,lap,dated roo,n, from which she wLhtd 
 the two men with elowinff evp« Ti, , 
 
 in the walls were coveredlitrs'tripT o'f n^^ 
 
 Piaceuncomforthnortrjrwfn: 
 ZZ 2Tt '"^ '' '-'' 'H-retchTd'apr 
 
 -k'd:::rw:ttTe:7;;":;:^ ?r™? 
 
 which rrp^t^rJ ;« • ^^ P ^"^ couch, 
 
 wnich creaked m every jomt. The old woman 
 
 268 
 
 ! .; If ii 
 
avia 
 
 the old Jewess ; 
 woman." 
 id changed to an 
 Je regarded the 
 
 he had heartily 
 ■ military officer, 
 received Nero's 
 'f independence, 
 
 ^erful man, oh, 
 beseems me to 
 
 imble speeches, 
 ^is pride; and 
 him to enter 
 im. The old 
 corner of the 
 :h she watched 
 • The cracks 
 trips of papy- 
 ead, and two 
 ire household 
 n found the 
 ive and went 
 -etched apart- 
 g his armor, 
 n the couch, 
 e old woman 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 glided softly up to him, and, seeing blood-stains 
 on the dirty woollen coverlet, started and then 
 said in a trembling voice, — 
 
 " My son Rufus, the ap^ ,f my eye I You 
 have again been made to tcel the centurion's 
 lash upon your back." 
 
 Rufus uttered a disagreeable laugh, while the 
 evening breeze whistled through the chinks of 
 the dilapidated room. 
 
 " My son, let me rub the Egyptian salve 
 upon the stripes on your back ; let your old 
 mother apply the salve which she has made so 
 carefully herself" 
 
 "Let them bleed, mother," he answered, 
 using the Hebrew tongue. 
 
 The old woman glided to a cupboard in the 
 wall, from which she took several boxes of 
 ointment, and then, with a sorrowful face, ap- 
 proached her son's couch ; but he did not stir. 
 " Rise," she said at last, " and let me band- 
 age your wounds." 
 
 "They must bleed," he answered. 
 " God of our Fathers," wailed Esther, " he 
 says : ' They must bleed ; ' why must they bleed 
 if we can bind them up ? " 
 
 "The wounds cool my soul, mother," 
 groaned the son ; « when I am suffering physical 
 pain, I do not feel the pangs within. Or can 
 
 269 
 
IMAGE EVALUATION 
 TEST TARGET (MT-S) 
 
 1.0 
 
 I.I 
 
 ■-IM 
 
 |50 '""== 
 
 ^ 1^ 
 
 2A 
 2.0 
 
 IL25 i 1.4 
 
 IM 
 
 1.6 
 
 Sciences 
 Corporation 
 
 23 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 
 
 (716) 872-4503 
 
 / 
 
 O 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 '^ 
 
 <f' 
 
 \ 
 
 ?V 
 
 'C^ 
 
 
 "b- .-ss^ ~'i' 
 
,.v 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 I/a 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 \ 
 
!! 
 
 Ill 
 
 : i 
 V I 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 LTn^'!.'""^"^^^'°-- the burning of my 
 
 "I wish I could, Rufus, i wish I could- 
 the old woman whimpered. « But tell n^'e 
 vhy have they bruised your back; why h^ve' 
 
 heybeat my on,whomIbore'underm; 
 heart as honestly as any Roman woman and 
 nourished with my own milk ? " Tf 
 f nt. Esther felt his" ttughes t" houlh 
 hey were her own. He was fufferi„gu„|r 
 the Idea of h,s low station; the fate of the 
 more fo„„ ,, ^etellus filled hin, with envy 
 and gnawed at his ambitious soul She 
 crouched on the floor with a troubled heart 
 drawmg her upper lip under her lower one she' 
 brooded over her plans. " I will raise him ' 
 she sa,d to herself, " I will endure the sght rf 
 nis grief no longer." ^ ^ 
 
 Evening closed in, but both remained silent 
 in the same attitudes. Sometimes .hnffl. 
 
 steps echoed from the streeTnl^^i i^ F 
 fi-,^ a; 1 ,. street, now hi ed w th 
 
 ^,e d,sease-breedmg blue mists of the Tib r 
 At the end of an hour Rufus rose from the 
 
 leftthe'r'''' '"^"'''" ' '"i'itarycloaLnd 
 going She had Jearned that he loved and 
 
 r h 77 '''"'"S " '"^"i'y whose daught "s 
 life he had saved. He himself ne.er uttered 
 
 270 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 «E 
 
 ■$ 
 
 a word about the matter; and when she some- 
 times questioned him about it, he seemed 
 annoyed. 
 
 "He shall be happy," she murmured; 
 what is life to old Esther if her son is consum- 
 ing his days in misery and yearning tor power ? 
 The Romans have gods to whom they pray • 
 well then, I will become his good goddess,' 
 who will advance him to a position near the 
 imperial throne." 
 
 She ::ad scarcely finished her soliloquy, 
 when she heard voices outside the door of 
 the house. They seemed familiar, for she 
 smiled, and was not at all disturbed when a 
 muffled figure entered the room. She was 
 too much accustomed to hear the robes of the 
 rich rustle in her poor dwelling, and when the 
 stranger stood still in the apartment, she at once 
 assumed the tone of a friendly acquaintance 
 ^ " The lofty visit the lowly," she said cough- 
 ing " Lay aside your cloak ; I know your 
 wishes." 
 
 The muffled figure motioned toward the 
 door, then moved nearer, and sank wearily 
 into a chair, which she had first dusted with 
 the end of her mantle. 
 
 " What a long way ! And the perfume in 
 your palace is not very pleasant, old Esther," 
 
 271 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 My ma,d bnngs a legion of vermin witl, her 
 wlienever she comes from you " 
 
 servaT'' ''°" "f' j''' ""'''^ ^'^V ^^"d her 
 servant, answered the old \voman 
 
 fiJT'"" ^u-''^"'' '" """S^ "'til you this 
 
 .me has nothing to do with cosmetics; Jew s 
 
 nor even love-philters," whispered the arTsto 
 
 crat carefully shrouding her 'face and :;;: 
 ently very impatient. '^'^ 
 
 vll^^' T" "f"d poison this time?" said 
 Esther, offering her patroness a cushion. " s 
 
 What H '° '^ ""';"' ^™" '"^ -"'d 
 cf L . >'°" " '^"'•less lover?" 
 
 t.he had moved nearer to her visitor and 
 
 throuirt"h: ''" "' ^^^'"S to discover' 
 
 it. she averted her face '''' P"""''" 
 
 me; a d o. ,,, J^„„ /;^do^- now 
 person, for i am powerful " ' 
 
 Esther noticed that her guest was beginning 
 to fear her, and, extremely flattered, she !t oTcf 
 spread out on the floor -i„ order duly tldis! 
 p!ay her knowledge — all her oU.Ju, 
 la>nn= „„j ■ glasses, bott es, 
 
 lamps, and mixtures, explaining with great 
 
 272 ° 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 importance the power of the various salves 
 most of which, she asserted, had been invented 
 by hgyptian kings. 
 
 " Let us come to the point, old woman," 
 said the veiled lady, interrupting the praises. 
 
 Oh, I am always at the point," replied the 
 Jewess. 
 
 " Shut the door," the other went on, trying 
 to control her panting breath. "What I have 
 to tell you must remain a secret. I want 
 poison. It IS true ; but you will shudder when 
 1 reveal for whom I desire it " 
 
 " Well ? " 
 
 "You must not only prepare this poison 
 yourself, you must administer it with vour 
 own hands.' 
 
 " What .? " cried the old woman. « Go on 
 mistress, — I myself— for whom ? " 
 
 "Put your ear close to my lips and listen." 
 1 hen a conversation took place between 
 the pair, in the lowest whispers, which lasted 
 quite a long time and seemed to gratify Esther 
 exceedingly At last her noble guest rose. 
 iJo as I have commanded," she said, slip- 
 ping a purse into the hands of the smiling old 
 woman. After the muffled figure had dided 
 away as fast as possible, Esther stood for sev- 
 eral minutes absorbed in thought. " A strange 
 
 273 
 
 m 
 
 Ik 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 '^Zi t """"''"'' '" ^ """ow tone. 
 >. Qinerent, — the very same plan. And r 
 
 weJJ An.^ K . ^ ^"^ wishes us 
 
 see fh. 1 ?"""'"^ ^^^ ^« •' Ha ! ha ' I 
 
 see through you ! You want to terrify your 
 Emperor, that — th3^ \.^ tern ry your 
 
 one who Is in your „"." Bu^'V ''\ "''^ 
 i-ying.' Didan7bodyh ;^ti:''^?"■ 
 -K''T; lit- -~ P-''i- 
 
 Esther had hghted the shallow lamp whose 
 
 flame .Hummed a vessel upon the tripod 
 
 ~th"o;"""'™"'^'^"''""^«"^'^'^h 
 mortar the old woman now drew several dried 
 
 ashes'li irw' Y " '"= '"""^ "■•- -'- 
 ashes httle blue flames were dancing, _„d, with 
 
 hr toothless mouth blew the sparks into"he 
 
 herbitrrpr^r'""''^""'"''""^^''^ 
 
 she crouched beside thrZ 7'".°" '""l""' 
 the tr.„„. r ! P"*^ ""'' watched 
 
 the tons.es of flame circle around the old 
 
 pot. She sat mofonless till it began to hum 
 The monotonous sound exerted a soothing 
 mfluence upon her; her eyes closed ; her head 
 drooped on her lean neck; the locks of g^ay 
 
 274 ^ ^ 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 m the hot breath of the glowing vessel. 
 
 bhe had not slept long when the noise of 
 vo.ces .„ the street roused her. Starting up 
 she set the kettle back and hurried to the^doo^; 
 of the house. In the street below she saw by 
 the fl.cker,ng l.ght of numerous torches several 
 d>sgu,sed figures, who held a cloak stretched 
 out. m which. am,d peals of laughter, they 
 tosed ,„to the air a thin, long-haired figure 
 sk,lfu ly catching it again to hurl it up aiw! 
 he th,n figure s hmbs whirled comically, and 
 ts long locks fluttered as they whizzed thmugh 
 the a,r. It was the luckless dramatist, who 
 was bemg tossed by the reckless crew 1 11 his 
 throat tightened from fright. 
 
 " See," cried one of the long-haired poet's 
 tormentors, " what aspiration he possessesrhow 
 he stnves to reach the stars; by Zeus, h^ is I 
 
 touches the earth." The tortured author^ 
 last begged for mercy; but his whimperin. 
 amused the maskers so much that they shTu ed 
 
 oh,m that he should not touch the' dust of 
 earth agam unfl he declaimed one of his poems 
 rrom his he o-hf- T'U^ u f^i^ciub 
 
 softly. ^ ""^^ "^^"'^'^ ^^"ghed 
 
 "Nero is amusing himself," she murmured- 
 
 275 
 
 i 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 "strange, strange ; and here I am brewing some- 
 thing which couid make the Lord of the World 
 more powerless than the poor wretch he is 
 tossing in a cloak ! " 
 
 She limped back to her fire, and while pour- 
 ing the greenish liquid from the pot into a 
 a little triangular clay vessel, she reflected : 
 In three days my R-,fus will stand on guard 
 before the fear's room, -in three days. 
 Steep till that time, sweet drink, more power- 
 ful than the Lord of the World. In three 
 days! Rufus ! In three days ! " And, whis- 
 pering mystic magic formulas, she concealed 
 the clay vessel in the niche of the wall 
 
 376 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 A ^^^ %s ^ater than the incidents just 
 
 i u'lf^'. ' '^'■^"S of people poured 
 through Nero's gardens at the north of the 
 Janiculum. Octavia's secluded mode of life 
 had attracted attention at court, and instantly 
 excited the suspicions of the Ceesar, who feared 
 that the plan would be baffled, and ordered 
 I'etronnis to bring it to accomplishment as 
 . speedily as possible. Petronius was greatly 
 embarrassed. How was he to accomplish the 
 work ,f the Empress shut herself in from e--Ty 
 ones society? To compel her to appea/n 
 the world again, the aMer elegantiarum had 
 exerted his imagination to the utmost in mak- 
 ing the arrangements for this garden festival 
 Octavia could not refuse the Emperor's invi- 
 tation and came in a richly ornamented, but 
 closed litter. 
 
 Scarcely had the imperial train reached the 
 gardens, just as twilight was gathering, when 
 ta tree-trunks, garlanded with wreaths like 
 pillars, and ending at the top in a gigantic 
 bouquet, towered aloft into the air. At a dis- 
 
 277 
 
 i 
 
 i.'j 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 tance only the beautifully arranged flowers 
 were visible, but, drawing nearer, the eye per- 
 ceived in each bouquet a human body. The 
 figures were fastened in such a way that they 
 appeared to be soaring, like gods or spirits, 
 above the blossoms. The pleasure grounds 
 were not yet lighted ; but when Nero, reclining 
 in his litter, asked Petronius wonderingly what 
 surprise he had in store for him, as he did not 
 see even a single torch, the latter, smiling, waved 
 his hand, and instantly flames ran up the pillars 
 
 ^ansforming them into huge, living torches! 
 Ihe whole horizon glowed; it seemed as if a 
 
 blazing diadem v-.s hovering from the heavens 
 
 over the earth. 
 
 The spectacle aroused Nero's poetic tastes ; 
 he ordered the train to stop before a little villa 
 and, while his attendants took their places on 
 couches which stood ready, he called for music 
 Standing on the terrace of the villa, close to 
 the balustrade, he gazed at the torches now 
 burning far and wide, whose flames were re- 
 flected from the pools and whose decorations 
 of flowers poured forth terrible groans and 
 shrieks of agony. Turning to Metellus, he 
 exclaimed : « You ought to paint this ; it is a 
 magnificent spectacle. See ! How redly the 
 foliage of the beeches shines ; how the blaze 
 
 278 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 mounts higher and higher! Those poor 
 people! how fleeting life is _ is it not? A 
 dream, a shadow is more lasting ! Woe betide 
 us mortals ! But let me hear music ; drown 
 the cries of the stifling in waves of melody ' " 
 
 Then, while blood-red flashes quivered over 
 the assembly, and the giant torches, gradually 
 bluzmg higher, steeped the roof of the villa in 
 a purple glow, he sent for a lyre. Disdaining 
 the cushions arranged for him, he draped his 
 toga m artistic folds, raised his arm, and, as the 
 melting music of flutes floated from within 
 the dwelling, he bowed his head in melancholy 
 enthusiasm and placed his finger on his lip to 
 warn his train that his artistic reflections must 
 not be disturbed. 
 
 Metellus saw little more of the whole scene 
 than a few bedizened masks with some bright 
 spots in thed.,Lness; a bit of papyrus drew 
 his thoughts from the present, and filled him 
 with torturing impatience. It had been thrust 
 mto his hand by a stranger, directly after he 
 entered the gardens, and must contain some 
 news of her who, up to this hour, had so 
 rigidly avoided him, and now, having left her 
 litter, sat yonder, with her head bent down- 
 ward. Some news, some token of love at 
 last! 
 
 279 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 The groans of the burning victim, «re^. 
 
 more p,t,K . ,,,r his senses seLed :it4 
 now that he was again permitted to see the 
 
 woman wnom he had so often embraced in 
 h.s dreams. Metellus often tried to aloah 
 'he Empress; but when, after brushingpast 
 ;>-ny togas, he at last succeeded in reacLTa 
 place oppos.te to her chair and attract'nTher 
 at.nt,on iry coughing several times, :hrrtise:d 
 her head how her glance startled him ' Her 
 eyes, coW as the gems in the diadem on her 
 narrow brow, rested lifelessly on him, as de 
 t.tute of interest as if he were a Strang w^l 
 whom she never had been and never^deled 
 o be m any relation. The look pierced his 
 heart; yet once more he endeavored to make 
 
 ner chair and whispering her name. She rose 
 w.th almost insulting resolution; and, w thout' 
 g ancing around, as if utterly unconscious of his 
 presence, she approached several of those who 
 rood nearest, exchanged courtesies with thim 
 ..nd was ,n all respects the gracious Empres ' 
 Metellus stood as if he did not believe his 
 
 X^atttis "^'^ *\ --" Wed him 
 time h. I T""'"'- ''^"'' "ft" so long a 
 time he hoped to greet her, did she fly frL 
 
 h.m? Could she exchange insipid flafterie" 
 
 280 ' 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 bow, smile ? His eyes, filled with tears, ga/ed 
 into vacancy, and the thought that the I'mpress 
 might he feigning this coldness to escape 
 suspicion first restored life to his limbs and 
 removed the aching burden from his breast 
 "The letter, read the letter," cried a voice in 
 his heart. " It will explain." 
 
 He held the papyrus clenched in his left 
 hand ; but there was so little light in the place 
 where he stood, and it could so easily be over- 
 looked by every one, that he resolved to go, 
 without attracting attention, to the candelabrum' 
 burning in the ante-chamber of the villa. 
 Trembling with expectation, he bore the sus- 
 pense a few minutes longer, and then glided 
 cautiously toward the dwelling. Entering 
 the brilliantly lighted ante-room, he did not 
 give himself time to take a close survey of it 
 but hurried straight to the gilded canaelabrum! 
 The sheet was hastily unrolled; it contained 
 nothing; it was merely a blank, unwritten page 
 What ! A jest ? A deception ? But the 
 artist had gradually become initiated into the 
 usual wiles of the court; he moved close to 
 the flame of the lamp, and, under its scorching 
 glow, letters appeared distinctly on the white 
 surface. "You will find me in the Grotto of 
 Bacchus — " 
 
 281 
 
I 111 
 
 i 
 
 lii 
 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 This was the entire contents of the letter • 
 but the words fell upon his ear like the sum- 
 mons of the gods, as he now repeated them 
 ]n a ow tone. His old lightheartedness 
 instantly took possession of him. For a 
 moment at least the ray of happiness dispelled 
 ali mists and restored the joyous shortsighted- 
 ness of youth, which lives only for the present 
 in an overwhelming, almost childish feeling 
 of gratitude, he compressed his lips, closed his 
 eyes and kissed the metal of the candelabrum, 
 which cooled his face, while the crackling of 
 the living torches and the sweet notes of the 
 flutes floated to his ear. The Grotto of Bac- 
 chus as he knew, was at the western end of 
 the Neronian Circus ; he was ready to seek it 
 at once, and, so great was his ecstasy of rapture, 
 that he felt by no means clear what he should 
 do when he arrived there. Nor, in his happy 
 blindness, did he have the least doubt that 
 he would find Octaviain the grotto; though 
 he must have told himself that it was by no 
 means in harmony with her character to pur- 
 sue nocturnal adventures like other aristocratic 
 ladies. His experiences had freed him from 
 his errors so little, in spite of many a decep- 
 tion, many a scruple, that he still hoped to 
 realize the happiness which his imagination 
 
 283 ® 
 
la 
 
 of the letter; 
 like the sum- 
 ■epeated them 
 jhtheartedness 
 him. For a 
 ness dispelled 
 shortsighted- 
 r the present, 
 ildish feeling 
 ps, closed his 
 candelabrum, 
 crackling of 
 notes of the 
 otto of Bac- 
 tern end of 
 ly to seek it 
 y of rapture, 
 t he should 
 1 his happy 
 doubt that 
 :t:o; though 
 was by no 
 :ter to pur- 
 aristocratic 
 i him from 
 ly a decep- 
 hoped to 
 magination 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 jrrus s state- 
 
 pictured. How r^bsurd was 
 ment that the Empress was in danger! He 
 hated Burrus, who wanted to deprive him of 
 his happiness, and wished that he could show 
 him this hatred. The pillars of flame whirl- 
 ing skyward in the gardens outside now cast 
 their light into th° room ; but the artist was 
 first roused from u.. thoughts by the rattle of 
 the handle of a spear upon the marble pave- 
 ment. Turning, he saw Rufus standing at the 
 end of the hall before the curtain of a door- 
 way ; but the sight of the sullen-browed soldier 
 did not destroy his composure. On the con- 
 trary, he nodded gayly to him, exclaiming: 
 " My poor friend, must you stand on guard 
 here .? " ^ 
 
 "You are happy," replied the sentinel; 
 " don't trouble yourself." 
 
 " Yes, the gods granted me happiness," said 
 Metellus, sighing, while his head drooped as 
 if bending under the burden of his bliss. 
 " I am a god ! " he added with a faint smile. 
 
 " And I am a dog ! " fell fiercely from the 
 soldier's lips. Metelius held out his hand 
 to the disheartened man, and promised to aid 
 him in his aspirations. Rufus laughed spite- 
 fully. 
 
 "Yesterday they gave me a taste of the 
 
 283 
 
 Mi 
 
I 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 scourge," he muttered; "I wish th u ^ 
 
 beaten me to death. Am I 1 fj"^ u'"^ 
 eycfr^t- i-r. , . "^ ^o*" nothme- 
 
 I e T „Ls TcV r^""^' °^ *''^^' ^''™' i" 
 
 »^k • How didst thou rest, Lord ? ' Have 
 <■ less brains n mv skull th-,,, ,1, f 
 favorite fool. Vatinfus '" ""^ ^™P"<"-' 
 
 and'^rcasmrRu"; ''' "°' '"^ *^ -^P'-'^ 
 
 aiiu bdrcasms Kuhjs muttered • v^f k^ 
 
 -hougHh.HadBee„theJtXttrer 
 
 "I must remain whaf r a»v. »» 
 
 soldier- «u^^ ^ ' murmured the 
 
 suimer , who can aid me ? " 
 
 . , '^"^ '^."<=""^. in his ecstasy, made the foni 
 ■si. promise that he would Ik the C^sar to" 
 promote the soldier. Rufus, who thought ht 
 the sculptor was mocking him, drew bad a 
 stepj^his face expressed atgry s'uspilm"' ' 
 
 Do you need money .^ " asked the sculn 
 or without noticing his indignation -"her 
 take some. I have nlenfv T . ' 
 
 pocketful " ^ ^' J"'' '^^' ^ ^hole 
 
 -J^raTholdilL-hr^f^^^^^^ 
 .-hie smell o.Lr^.^;-r;e:?2pU„f- 
 
 284 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 the air. Dense clouds of smoke rolled over 
 the terrace; sparks darted like falling stars 
 through the black mist; the shrieks of the 
 dying sounded fainter. Metellus, though 
 looking carefully in every direction, no longer 
 savv Octavia among the assembled company ; 
 and this induced him, though scarcely con- 
 scious of what he was doing, to go at once to 
 the Grotto of Bacchus. He had scarcely left 
 the terrace behind him, when Burrus emerged 
 from the shadow of a dark myrtle-grove. 
 
 " Wait a minute, my friend," called the old 
 general, " I have something to say to you " 
 In the artist's state of feverish excitement it 
 would have been hazardous, even for an inti- 
 mate friend, to stop him. But when the half- 
 crazed youth saw his supposed foe before him, 
 and this foe apparently intended to bar his 
 way, mad fury seized him. He scarcely knew 
 himself, so fierce was the clu.ch of passion. 
 " What do you want ? " he panted. 
 "A command of the Empress," whispered 
 Burrus ; « you must fly, this very hour, that is 
 the Empress's will." 
 
 "Fly.? "retorted Metellus, trembling with 
 nervous excitement; " begone, old liar, or your 
 aged bones might come into painful contact with 
 my young ones." 
 
 28s 
 
 ' m 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 Burnis tried to seize him by the cloak as he 
 hurried on. Metellus turned, with a half 
 brutal cry of rage, and struck his detainer in 
 the breast with his clenched fist. True, he 
 was ashamed of the act as soon as he had 
 committed it, yet he rushed onward with 
 frantic haste. 
 
 The Caesar, still admiring the flames, had 
 wanted the cooling drink which he had in- 
 vented, as the singing of several songs had 
 wearied his throat. The golden goblet which 
 contained the precious liquid stood in the ante- 
 room of the villa between heaps of snow. As 
 the silver tub in which the cup was cooled was 
 too large to bring out on the terrace, and the 
 snow would have melted too fast in the hot 
 air, the C^sar, at the end of each song, went 
 to the villa to moisten his throat, which also 
 afl^orded him the opportunity of receiving the 
 bows and applause of the courtiers on his way. 
 After a specially long piece, he again went to 
 the ante-chamber, and was just raising the gob- 
 let to his lips, when a hand — the hand of 
 Rufus, the sentinel — was thrust between the 
 gold rim of the beaker and the imperial lips. 
 Nero's voice failed from sheer astonishment; 
 his eyes stared furiously at the soldier, who' 
 
 286 
 
impress Octavia 
 
 stood before him, tottering, his spear shaking in 
 his grasp, and his face as white as a criminal's who 
 had just been condemned to death. 
 
 "Do not drink, august Master,'" stammered 
 Rufus, his teeth chattering as if he were shaken 
 by a sudden chili. 
 
 "Wha-a-What is it?" fell from Nero's 
 blanched lips. " Do you dare — " 
 
 Rufus was silent; no sound was heard in the 
 room except the crackling of the candelabrum 
 flames. The tmperor, whose broad face had 
 at first flushed angrily, grew paler and paler as 
 he gazed at the Pr^torian's features, whose ex- 
 pression revealed the menace of some grave mis- 
 fortune; and when the latter took from the table 
 a small triangular clay bottle which had lain 
 close to the edge of the silver tub, the C^sar 
 set down the goblet with every sign of terror. 
 _ Poison ! whispered Rufus, « a woman - 
 in the cup — " 
 
 Nero, turning his thick neck, gazed around 
 him as if some one had clutched his throat • 
 then he motioned to Rufus to be silent, as if 
 he could not endure to hear the word " poison " 
 uttered. 
 
 " Call Petronius," he gasped at last, after 
 making several futile attempts to speak ; and, 
 as Rufus left the room, he dragged himself 
 
 287 
 
 iu 
 
 I L! 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 utterly broken down, to a chair, his face whiter 
 than the toga with which he wiped the sweat 
 of terror from his brow. Was it possible? 
 Dared they poison him, the Lord of the 
 Earth ? Yet it was so ; here lay the little vial ! 
 A few minutes more and the great artist would 
 no longer have enraptured the world. While 
 pondering over this, a plan matured in 
 the brain of the inventive monarch. When 
 Petronius came hurrying in with the soldier, 
 Nero ordered the doors to be carefully locked, 
 then pointed to the silver tub, feigned the 
 most violent suffering, and, leaning back in his 
 chair with his eyes fixed keenly on the courtier, 
 faltered, — 
 
 " Alas ! I am poisoned ! " The joyful 
 horror which flitted over Petronius's face at 
 this remark by no means satisfied the sover- 
 eign, who wished to test his friend, or at least 
 only so far as the alarm was flattering to his 
 talent as an actor. 
 
 " Poisoned ? Really poisoned.?" stammered 
 Petronius. 
 
 " Yes, you can choose a new Emperor ; it 
 is all over with me," panted the hypocrite. 
 Petronius stared at him incredulously. 
 
 " Whom shall we choose ? " Petronius 
 continued. 
 
 288 
 
 ,J* ' 
 
 ^U 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 " By Pluto, you say that with a coolness — 
 I believe you would see me go to the under 
 world as carelessly as an old temple rat," said 
 Nero, distrustfully ; "but I shall not afford you 
 that amusement just yet, my dear fellow. 
 Luckily, this faithful soldier preserved me 
 from appearing to my good friend in the part 
 of the dying Ajax." 
 
 Petronius, conquering his bewilderrr.ent, had 
 assumed an expression of the most intense 
 anxiety ; assurances of sympathy flowed from 
 his lips ; and these professions were so sincere, 
 so skilfully uttered, that the despot, who had 
 risen from his chair, could find no fault with 
 them, and therefore said, — 
 
 " Very well ! you play your part admirably I 
 You have learned your lesson well from me, 
 the great actor. I am touched ; by Zeus, your 
 friendship moves my heart." Then, ponder- 
 ing a moment, he threw himself into a chair, 
 murmuring, perhaps with sincere sorrow, as he 
 gazed gloomily into vacancy : " Ye gods ! Not 
 one is honest; they are all hypocrites, all! I 
 know it ! What a fate is that of a sovereign ! 
 Woe betide u? ! The crown does not suit 
 earthly brows I " 
 
 But this mood passed as quickly as it had 
 come, when Petronius had the happy thought 
 
 '9 289 
 
 f 
 
 I >'■ 
 i 1 
 i 1 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 of lauding the marvellous skill with which his 
 royal master had simulated the dying convul- 
 sions of a poisoned man. Nero listened in 
 delight to the discriminating critic ; and, as if 
 gagged by this overwhelming outburst of 
 praise, sullenly motioned to him to let the 
 matter drop. Yet as soon as his eye chanced 
 to fall upon the little vial of poison, the fear of 
 death again assailed him. Gazing fixedly at it, 
 he fingered both sides of his hips, as was his 
 custom, in doing which he often wrapped his toga 
 around his trembling hands, and only Petronius's 
 exclamation : " What an artist would have died 
 in you ! " restored his composure. 
 
 " If I had drunk the potion," he said with a 
 gesture of horror, "how great would have 
 been the world's loss ! The lips of the most 
 eloquent poet forever silenced ! " Then, car- 
 ried away by his theatrical imagination, the 
 vision of his death, — the magnificent expres- 
 sion of the dead face, the wreaths which sor- 
 rowing Art would place upon his bier, the 
 gloomy funeral procession with the sound of 
 the tubas, the superb pyre were all eloquently 
 described, and he resolved that he would 
 announce this attempt at poisoning to the 
 Roman people in the Forum, and subdue their 
 hearts by the might of his words, the power of 
 
 290 
 
 ! I 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 his tears Then, turning to Rufus, he asked 
 tor the details of the affair. 
 
 "I was standing," said the Pr^torian, much 
 excited "I was standing before this door 
 absorbed in thought, when cautious footsteps 
 attracted my attention. Glancing around me, 
 I saw the muffled figure of a woman who ap- 
 proached the table where your goblet. Lord, was 
 resting ,n the silver tub. I kept quiet that I 
 might discover her design, until she reached the 
 table. 1 here I saw her draw this little clay vial 
 from under her robe, hold it over the goblet, and 
 let several drops fall into it. In my astonish- 
 ment, I may say horror, I struck the handle of my 
 spear heavily against the floor; the vial slipped 
 from her hand ; she ran toward that little door, 
 and J, in pursuing her, had the misfortune to 
 slip, with my nail-shod sandals, on the smooth 
 marble or I should have arrested her, though 
 the swiftness of her retreat was wonderful " 
 
 "That is well," said the Caesar ; " your reward 
 shall be an extraordinary one. What is your 
 name.? ' ^ 
 
 "Rufus," said the soldier, visibly exhausted 
 by his story. 
 
 "Well then, Rufus, you are sure of a coun- 
 try estate in Bai^." Turning to Petronius, 
 he went on in a lower tone,— 
 
 291 
 
 li 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 " Who do you believe is the instigator of 
 
 this deed ? " 
 
 " I will not venture to express a suspicion," 
 answered the courtier. Nero went close to 
 his side, and, in a voice which prevented any 
 opposition, with an emphasis that was like a 
 command, he whispered, — 
 
 " No one except Octavia would send me so 
 early to the under world." 
 
 Petronius, who foresaw what consequences 
 this suspicion must entail, tried, in spite of his 
 master's frowning brow, to offer some opposi- 
 tion. Nero listened to his words without 
 contradiction. 
 
 " You will take care," he said, suppressing 
 a slight yawn, when Petronius paused, "that 
 the matter of which you know is ended in 
 three days. The third from to-day I must 
 have in my hands the proofs which will render 
 Octavia's death a duty to the people." 
 
 Petronius, perceiving that delay or oppo- 
 sition was no longer possible, bowed silently. 
 A deed of violence was to be executed, that 
 was evident to the experienced courtier. " My 
 Master, to place this tragical farce upon the 
 stage, I shall need your assistance in person," 
 he said, smiling craftily, and then explained to 
 the Emperor in detail the part which he was 
 
 292 
 
 
 ii 
 
instigator of 
 
 a suspicion," 
 2nt close to 
 -evented any 
 t was like a 
 
 send me so 
 
 :onsequences 
 
 spite of his 
 
 3me opposi- 
 
 rds without 
 
 suppressing 
 Lused, "that 
 is ended in 
 day I must 
 1 will render 
 le." 
 
 ly or oppo- 
 ,ved silently, 
 ecuted, that 
 •tier. " My 
 :e upon the 
 
 in person," 
 explained to 
 hich he was 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 to assume. The theatrical character of the 
 situation described pleased Nero, who rubbed 
 his hands, protesting that he would play the 
 deceived husband the better because he in- 
 tended to study it in advance. 
 
 " But I shall need armed force to induce 
 Metellus to take this step," observed Petro- 
 nius m the course of the conversation; where- 
 upon Nero replied that that was quite possible 
 but he wished to have the tool disappear as 
 soon as it had been used. He made a little 
 gesture with his hand as he spoke, and whis- 
 pered pleasantly : « The boy might tell tales !" 
 " His death will be inevitable only in case 
 he resists," replied the courtier, who could 
 not conquer a certain feeling of affection for 
 Metellus. 
 
 Caesar, complaining of being utterly un- 
 nerved, left the room. On reaching the ter- 
 race he showed his most amiable side, jested 
 with his zither-players, and praised the cohort 
 of his admirers. Yet he had whispered to 
 Petronius to see that no report of the at- 
 tempted assassination reached the ears of the 
 people that, as he said, the example might 
 find no imitators. 
 
 So he smiled and praised continually, even 
 pardoned two men accused of having written 
 
 293 
 
I I 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 ii 
 
 sarcastic verses about him, saying that the 
 verses showed talent, and talent had a right to 
 live. He maintained this forced guyety until 
 he was lifted with effort into the litter. The 
 curtains were at once drawn down ; he closed 
 his eyes, and ordered himself to be carried 
 to the palace as fast as possible; while Petro- 
 nms, reflecting upon the plot to be executed 
 lost himself in the paths of the pleasure 
 grounds. The clever courtier could not deny 
 that his heart was drawn toward the youth ; a 
 tender emotion attracted him to the unspoiled 
 artist, at whose purity he, the refined profli- 
 gate, gazed as at his long-vanished childhood. 
 Should he warn him.? That meant to forfeit 
 the Cassar's favor ! But to deliver him to the 
 snare, seemed, as he walked on, often impos- 
 sible, wholly at variance with the voice in his 
 breast. 
 
 Turning around a clump of shrubbery, he 
 saw m the distance a figure vhich, after a closer 
 scrutiny, he recognized. McU:i\n> was dar^.n^r 
 through the bushes. S^ouk) Iv stop him'? 
 i^or a moment he cursed his position, his re- 
 lation to the Emperor; it seemed as though he 
 saw his own son rushing to destruction, and 
 his feet were rooted to the ground, he could 
 not hold him back from the abyss. His 
 
 294 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 trembling lips uttered the name Metellus, but 
 the hurrying figure did not hear. 
 
 Meanwhile, wandering through the gardens, 
 the sculptor had sought the Cirotto of Bacchus. 
 Neither the nymphs reclining around the 
 springs, nor the women who were dancirg in 
 the groves had been able to stop him. r'he 
 disguised dancers could scarcely awaken his 
 curiosity. The torch-lit temple, from which 
 floated sighs of love blended with the swc et 
 melody of flutes, presented a wonderfully 
 beautiful spectacle; the boats on the ponds 
 which, surrounded by scaly sea-monsters, left 
 golden furrows in the water, were an even 
 more marvellous sight. Far above the tops 
 of the trees, dyed copper bronze by the torch- 
 light, the deep red hue of the night heavens 
 marked the spot where the living candelabra 
 were gradually dying down. 
 
 "Cherish love, oh, mortal," breathed a voice 
 from the shining pillars of a temple crowning 
 a hill ; " soon, instead of blooming maidens, 
 the heavy mists of Orcus will embrace you ; do 
 not let youth flit by without having enjoyed 
 what lends youth its charm; even the gray- 
 beard likes to think of the rose-colored days 
 that will never return, and sheds a tear for the 
 hours when he neglected to sip joy. Cherish 
 
 29s 
 
 '';,: I 
 
m 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 love, pay homage to the universal mother 
 flowers." '^°^' ''^'""' »J garlanded with 
 
 ' eveft'o'l™ ''°^^'^ '""^ ''"''""^ "'* "oi^t 
 eyes to the sweet sounds that floated over the 
 
 meadows, while the altar flamed mysteriouslv 
 between the shining columns, and dartfigurt 
 moved m the mystic fire. " I will ask fhere 
 where the Grotto is to be found," thought th^ 
 youth, who had lost his way. As he was 
 
 ~d T '"" • ' k"°* y-." the youth 
 answered, you are no woman." 
 
 forl"^'" "r "1:° ' '"'" ^^P''^'' *= """fled 
 torm ; ask who you are." 
 
 ." [ ^".^ who I am," said Metellus and 
 se.zed w,th fear, he hurried down he hilt 
 
 . T"" Z^"' '° '""' >"' '"^t a slave d . 
 gu.sed as Mercury, who, in a short time Id 
 h.m to an arfstically arranged mass of ro ks 
 whose fantasfc pinnacles the moon was veH „g 
 w th a s,lver-green haze. It was lonely here 
 Far away .^e distance rose the arches'of t^ ' 
 
 rimm' ^ •" ^'"'^ '^^'"' "'"■We forms 
 gl-mmered agamst the black background of 
 
 296 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 yews ; the wires of a gilded aviary glittered 
 through the darkness, and, from thf bro. d 
 canopy of the pines, the cypresses towered 
 aloft dark and melancholy, toward the sky. 
 
 1 he youth s anticipations rose higher and 
 h.gher as th,s Mercury, smiling mysferiously! 
 led h,m through a little doo? in the rocks 
 wh,ch closed behind him, and he stood sur^ 
 rounded by darkness. He ventured to move 
 forward, toward a spot from which echoed the 
 wa,hng wh,spers of flutes. A peculiar fra! 
 g ance, surroundmg him i„ the gloom, stupe- 
 fied h,s senses and at the same time a bluL 
 light .Hummed the apartment, veiling every 
 object .nam,st that awakened curiosity; and 
 before the youth could clearly understand what 
 
 try to draw hnn down upon a couch. The 
 bold embrace surprised him, and filled him 
 with pleasant bewilderment. True, the idea 
 of bemg thus boldly clasped by the noble 
 Octavia oppressed his heart and filled it with 
 
 ancholy, bl.ssful revene, he allowed himself to 
 b drawn down upon the cushions. As, spite 
 of h,s ardent yearning, he bowed his head in 
 embarrassment and felt a woman's warm breath 
 upon h,s hatr, a pair of glowing lips were 
 
 297 
 
 i. 
 
 u 
 
 In 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 "fill 
 
 pressed upon his neck, and, indignant at his 
 own famt-heartedness, he turned, vehemently 
 throwing both arms around the woman he loved 
 iiut he mstantly became a prey to the keen- 
 est disappomtment; instead of Octavia as he 
 supposed, he was embracing Popp^a, who 
 smiled at him with her craftiest expression 
 trom beneath her rose-strewn mantle. The 
 . dymg gladiator, writhing beneath the red-hot 
 iron of the inspector of the dead, cannot kel 
 sharper anguish than now pierced the heart of 
 Metellus ; a cry which, though low, seemed as 
 If It would burst his breast, escaped his lips • 
 and the cruel consciousness that Octavia did 
 not love him, overwhelmed him as though he 
 was beaten with rods, till it seemed as though 
 blood must ooze through every pore in his 
 body. Poppsa saw by the youth's dull gaze 
 what was passing in his mind, and her eye- 
 brows contracted angrily until they met across 
 her nose. 
 
 " Why do you suddenly start up, almost 
 before you have embraced me.?" she asked 
 " Does not Poppsa please you ? Whom did 
 you expect to find here.? I can divine whom 
 you expected to embrace; but I tell you be- 
 ware, that others do not discover it to your 
 destruction." ^ 
 
 398 
 
 I 
 
idignant at his 
 ed, vehemently 
 'Oman he loved. 
 sy to the keen- 
 
 Octavia, as he 
 
 Poppaea, who 
 est expression 
 
 mantle. The 
 th the red-hot 
 id, cannot feel 
 i the heart of 
 ow, seemed as 
 iped his lips; 
 t Octavia did 
 
 as though he 
 ^ed as though 
 ^ pore in his 
 h's dull gaze 
 and her eye- 
 ey met across 
 
 t up, almost 
 she asked. 
 Whom did 
 divine whom 
 tell you, be- 
 r it to your 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 I 
 
 As he did not listen to her, she whispered 
 angrily, _ ^ ^ 
 
 "You expected Octavia here ; confess it." 
 bhe pierced his eyes with the searching gaze 
 of jealousy; but even Octavia's name did not 
 seem to rouse him from his melancholy; and 
 
 u ^'r\ '"''"''" ^""' °" '■" ^ loader tone: 
 ^ Uh, this Octavia deserves death, since she 
 gives death to you. Yes, stare at me; your 
 Octavia will send you to Orcus. I dare not 
 speak ; my lips are sealed ; but one word from 
 me wou d suffice to make you curse that 
 Octavia. 
 
 As he now raised his eyes to her face a feel- 
 ing of pity gradually stole over her for this 
 pallid youth who still gazed into vacancy like 
 a corpse. Yet, as a handsome face first reveals 
 the deepest secrets of its beauty in suffering, 
 the profligate woman felt a more ardent pas- 
 sion for him than ever before. She began to try 
 to draw him down again on the couch at her 
 side, using all the arts of coquetry at her com- 
 mand, sometimes smiling, sometimes pouting 
 sometimes beaming, sometimes shamefaced, as 
 she played with his hand. 
 
 "What do you find so attractive in Octa- 
 Z ,/^^ ^f'^^^^'^'^Sh; "am I not just as 
 beautiful ? Do not people praise my hair, my 
 
 299 
 
 !i 
 
Empress Octavij 
 
 hand, my foot ? See what a little h 
 
 and, how strange, your hair 
 mine; the gods have 
 
 IS as 
 
 and I hav€ 
 golde 
 
 n as 
 
 created us fi 
 arm ,s ! Do not be angry with me for telling 
 
 ness— She pressed her head against his 
 breast; love and jealousy overpowLd her 
 ears streamed from her eyes, and. wiping them 
 
 feamg every word, amid her sobs,- 
 
 They w,ll kill you ; you are betrayed, flv i " 
 And, forgetnng herself, she told Metellus 
 what a net had been cast around his limb e 
 vea ed ,„ ^ .^at he was the moving spring 
 of the cruel machine which had been set in 
 motion for the destruction of Octavia 
 Metellus at first heard meaningless words 
 
 ctrnerS 'f'' ^"""^"y' '" ''« -"otes; 
 corner of h,s consciousness, the suspicion 
 dawned upon h,m that the words to whfch he 
 listened were not mere words ; a mist of ideas 
 
 T ft '\ ■"' ''"'" • '" ^""'""^ suspense 
 bound h,3 thoughts; and when Popp^a ended 
 
 s.ons of tenderness, ,t seen.ed as though some 
 incomprehensible, nameless thing was'glid „g 
 m ever-narrowmg circles, around his head. 
 
 I 
 
via 
 
 tie hand I have, 
 is as golden as 
 
 for each other. 
 
 beautiful your 
 > me for telling 
 give my mad- 
 ad against his 
 rpowered her; 
 i, wiping them 
 i hastily, as if 
 obs, — 
 
 )etrayed, fly ! " 
 told Metellus 
 
 his limbs, re- 
 noving spring 
 I been set in 
 :avia. 
 
 ngless words, 
 the remotest 
 he suspicion 
 
 to which he 
 mist of ideas 
 •us suspense 
 appaea ended 
 i and expres- 
 :hough some 
 was gliding, 
 i his head. 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 He knew everything and nothing. As he now 
 slowly worked his way out from under the 
 oppressive burden of his grief, as if he were 
 extricatmg himself from the ruins of a falling 
 house, he felt with astonishment, nay terror 
 that a strange despair, a half animal fury was 
 gradually taking the place of his grief He 
 did not know with whom he was angry • but he 
 was enraged, and so frantically that it seemed 
 as If he must destroy everything near him, as 
 It nothing but blood could satisfy him. Every- 
 thing orderly and decorous grew hateful, and 
 m that moment bordering upon madness, his 
 eyes fell upon the caressing woman. A sword 
 appeared to pierce from his heart to his brain- 
 every vein swelled ; he gripped the extended 
 hand so fiercely that Popp^a suppressed a 
 groan as she sank back on the couch and, when 
 she saw the strange, bright, wandering expres- 
 sion in his eyes, was about to call for help 
 It was too late. 
 
 
 
 That same night Metellus again wandered 
 through the park, throwing himself on the 
 ground, utterly bereft of composure, and 
 moistening the earth with burning tears. In 
 h.s wild despair, he lay upon the grass writhing 
 like a man dying under the scourge of the 
 
 301 
 
 iH 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 executioner, and only longing for forgetful- 
 ness. Stephanus, with half parted lips, sat 
 beside his master. He could not understand 
 why he should lie there, with his face pressed 
 against the dewy turf as if he wished to hide 
 it. He touched Metellus's head wonderingly, 
 but said nothing, and, drawing out the flute 
 which he had given him, began to lure sweet 
 tones from it. The first rosy hues of dawn 
 were already beginning to tremble over Rome, 
 the first timid twitter of the waicing birds was 
 heard among the leaves; the light morning 
 breeze fanned the hot cheeks of the unhappy 
 youth and played with the curls of the inno- 
 cent lad. The soft notes of the flute at first 
 sounded like mockery to the artist's ears. 
 
 "Stop that," he said angrily. Stephanus 
 took the flute from his lips, but after gathering 
 flowers for some time, could not resist the 
 impulse and began to play again. Again his 
 master ',-n patiently silenced him. 
 
 " Wnat ails you ? " asked the boy, half cry- 
 ing ; « may I not play the flute .? You are so 
 strange! Are you sorrowful, oh, master, or 
 are you happy ? " 
 
 Metellus hid his face on the lap of the child, 
 
 feeling a sort of timid reverence for his purity.* 
 
 " Play your flute, I will permit it, Steph- 
 
 302 
 
 f liiih 
 
r forgetful - 
 sd lips, sat 
 understand 
 face pressed 
 hed to hide 
 ^onderingly, 
 It the flute 
 > lure sweet 
 es of diiwn 
 )ver Rome, 
 I birds was 
 It morning 
 e unhappy 
 ^ the inno- 
 ute at first 
 ears. 
 
 Stephanus 
 
 r gathering 
 
 resist the 
 
 Again his 
 
 ^ half cry- 
 ^ou are so 
 master, or 
 
 the child, 
 is purity, 
 it, Steph- 
 
 i 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 anus," he murmured, conquering his repug- 
 nance to the sound, " but play very softly. 
 Your master is not well." 
 
 " Are you ill ? " asked the slave. 
 
 " No," said Metellus, blushing. 
 
 " Your eyes look so ill," replied the boy ; 
 "shall I keep quiet? " 
 
 " Don't ask questions and begin," said his 
 master, ashamed of his mood. Then he 
 pressed a kiss on the pure lips of Stephanus ; 
 and the latter warmly returned the caress ; but 
 it seemed to startle, rather than to please the 
 youth, whose face blanched as he averted it. 
 
 The child joyously placed the flute to his 
 mouth. 
 
 " Listen, this is a song which I remember 
 from my former home." 
 
 The sweet, plaintive melody, the rosy flush 
 deepening on the foliage and the clouds, the 
 cool morning breeze, with its dewy breath, 
 thrilled Metellus like a sorrowful foreboding; 
 he sighed and smil, a as he closed his tear-filled 
 eyes. Now he fell asleep, but painful dreams 
 assailed him. His brow darkened indignantly ; 
 he rolled over on his back, muttered defiant 
 words, and suddenly started up, groaning. 
 Pressing his hand to his fevered brow, he 
 faltered, — 
 
 303 
 
 1:;- 1 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 "What is this? — Is it possible? — How 
 was it ? — Did she say — " 
 
 He clasped his hands as though struggling 
 for breath. Stephanus laughed aloud at his 
 master's bewilderment^ and asked if he had 
 seen a goddess in his dreams. Metellus gazed 
 doubtfully around him; he had heard Poppx-a's 
 voice in his sleep. 
 
 " Is what she told me the truth?" he mur- 
 mured. " No ! I dreamed it, it cannot be true; 
 it would be too unprecedented." 
 
 Then Stephanus said that, while he was 
 playing the flute, armed men had approached 
 the place; he had seen their helmets glitter 
 through the bushes in the morning light. 
 
 "Armed men?" asked the youth, still 
 drowsy with sleep, "in this place—"' 
 
 "Yes," replied the boy, "perhaps we shall 
 see a military spectacle. Hark I There they 
 are again, I hear their armor clank." 
 
 Stephanus had scarcely finished the sentence 
 when Petronius appeared in the nearest grav- 
 elled path, now steeped in the blue mist of 
 morning. Metellus stared absently at him, as 
 he approached with a courteous smile. 
 
 " Have you a moment's time ? " he asked 
 with studied humility, which, however, did not 
 fail to produce an impression. 
 
 304 
 
la 
 
 jible ? — How 
 
 igii struggling 
 aloud at his 
 'd if he had 
 letcllus gazed 
 ard l^oppxM's 
 
 th?" he mur- 
 nnot be true; 
 
 ^hile he was 
 1 approached 
 :lmets glitter 
 ing light, 
 youth, still 
 :e-— " 
 
 aps we shall 
 There they 
 
 the sentence 
 learest grav- 
 >lue mist of 
 y at him, as 
 lile. 
 
 he asked 
 ver, did not 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 "Yes, yes," said Metellus, inquiringly, 
 without stirring from the place. 
 
 "Then have the kindness to follow me " 
 " Why .? " 
 
 " The Emperor has invented a new favor 
 
 for you, my master." 
 
 " Do you address me as master ? " 
 "You will be henceforward," replied 
 
 Petronius, bowing. 
 
 The submissive tone and the words "my 
 master" attracted the inexperienced youth 
 whose wea-ied senses denied him the service 
 of calm deliberation. Starting up as if in a 
 dream, he followed the courtier, who invited 
 him to take his place in a litter which awaited 
 them. When both had reclined upon the 
 cushions, Petronius closed the curtains 
 Metellus noticed the movement of the 
 vehicle as it was borne forward, then he 
 fancied that cautious steps, the subdued clank 
 of weapons and confused voices fell upon his 
 ear, but the regular swaving of the litter over- 
 powered him with unconquerable drowsiness. 
 He fell asleep, though he struggled vehe- 
 mently against the paralyzing weakness. 
 Petronius lay beside him in the dusky in- 
 tenor, compressed his lips firmly, and gazed 
 tixedly at the wan, sleeping features of his 
 
 ^° 305 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 victim. So letimes he pushed the hair back 
 
 from his face, but the necessity of rescuing the 
 
 beloved youth no longer mastered him; the 
 
 habit of obedience had hardened his soul ; his 
 
 heart lay in his breast like a leaden weight, and 
 
 a fixed expression of suffering rested on his 
 
 features. At last he could not refrain from 
 
 pressing a kiss upon the smooch brow of the 
 
 sleeper, turned over and closed his eyes, as if 
 
 to force himself to slumber. 
 
 * 
 
 When Metellus again woke, he found him- 
 self in his room in v.- imperial palace. Even- 
 ing had already closed in; the last beams of the 
 setting sun crimsoned the lion-claws of his 
 couch were reflected from the walls, and 
 glided up the curtains which half concealed 
 the dusky garden. The rays also flickered 
 over the round goat-footed table at which 
 the artist sat. The roll which he held in his 
 hands, and read over ar. J over again with star- 
 ing eyes, glowed, and the youth's pale face was 
 flushed under the crimson light with a decep- 
 tive semblance of vigorous health. He had 
 found the roll on the table when he awoke • it 
 was placed so that he could not help seeing it. 
 Its smooth surface contained a demand which 
 he had now been re-reading for an hour. At 
 
 306 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 ji 
 
 last he let it fall and 
 his clenched fist. 
 "A*pl 
 
 struck his forehead with 
 
 lot ! A concerted plot ! " he groaned ; 
 and I was the tool ? Fool, who wandered 
 as ,f with bandaged eye where everything was 
 only too clear." ^ ^ 
 
 It was no deception, no dream ; he felt the 
 roll ; ,t was signed by Petronius. This was 
 the selfsame plan which Popp«,a had com- 
 municated; he remembered her every word 
 as we recall, when awake, a nocturnal vision.' 
 The roll offered him, besides a country estate, 
 high honors, if he would consent to involve 
 Octavia at night in a situation which must 
 render her fidelity as a uife suspicious in the 
 eyes of those who rushed in. What would 
 befall hmi, m case he should refuse to enter 
 mto this rascally trick, the roll did not state 
 Were these people with whom he associated 
 human bemgs ? Was the character of the 
 persons who surrounded him evident at last? 
 Had one been better than another.? Did not 
 selfishness, lust for pleasure, jeer at him in 
 every form ? His gaze turned in horror from 
 the life which, hitherto, he had accepted unex- 
 amined; a horror overwhelmed him at beine 
 condemned to breathe in such a world ; noth- 
 mg but hideous masks, claws, and teeth con- 
 
 307 
 
* 
 
 ; • j 
 
 I III' 
 
 
 W 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 fronted him ; wherever he looked, he fancied 
 that he was already wandering where he should 
 one day arrive, — in the mournful, mist-veiled 
 nether world. And Octavia ? Had he not un- 
 intentionally deceived her? Had not Burrus 
 told the truth ? The Caesar was already weary 
 of her! This certainty, the hatred of man- 
 kind, with its desolating chill, love with its 
 yearning importunity, the bitter realization of 
 the world, — all these varied emotions swept 
 through his soul, often dashing over him like 
 destroying waves, and stifled the last remnant 
 of childlike nature. He put the roll down, 
 raised it to his eyes' once more, and exclaimed 
 again and again : « Octavia, they are playing 
 a game with us ! Oh, Mistress, forgive me ! 
 Oh, forgive me, Burrus ! Would that I had 
 fled then ! I shall kill her, kill the woman I 
 love ! " 
 
 Beating his breast, he sank down with his 
 head against the hard wall, and gave himself 
 up completely to his grief, which shook him 
 like a giant. 
 
 He remained in this mood for some time, 
 weeping like a child, yet no longer a child.' 
 As It grew darker and the trees outside, no 
 longer reddened by the sunset glow, rustled 
 in the night-breeze, he was about to rise, but 
 
 308 
 
 tfi (. 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 a hand was laid on his shoulder, Pet 
 had entered unobserved. The two 
 fronted each other, Metelius with 
 breath, Petronius watching h 
 
 ronius 
 
 e two men c 
 
 on- 
 
 ahi)niu 
 
 ng hiin anxiously. 
 
 You have read the roll," the latte 
 
 averting his face; "I think 
 
 begf 
 
 you will consent? 
 
 IS 
 
 Oh, certainly ! " said Metelius, through h.. 
 set teeth, gazing at the embarrassed courtier 
 with a look of silent fury. 
 
 "Do you consent?" the other repeated 
 dejectedly. 
 
 "Oh, my admirable teacher," replied the 
 artist, "by Zeus! your school was a good 
 one, your plan clever! What a pity that 
 you were mistaken in me! Why did your 
 choice fall upon a provincial ? Are there not 
 plenty of gladiators and jugglers in Rome ! 
 Your knowledge of human nature does not 
 keep pace with your years; you might have 
 supposed that stupid Metelius would not suit 
 your shrewd tricks. But take courage, my 
 friend ! Rome is large, in two days you will 
 have found a better tool. Do not be vexed 
 because I am unwilling to become a rascal, 
 though the opportunity is very tempting!" 
 
 Metellus's anguish was so deep, so diffused 
 over life as a whole, that he maintained a fair 
 show of composure and subdued his anger. 
 
 309 
 
 1 1 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 Petronius received the bitter accusations of 
 his victim with bowed head and lustreless 
 eyes, as if he had expected them. 
 
 "Tell your Emperor that I despise him," 
 the youth continued, " that is my sole answer. 
 And now make way for me ; I shall leave the 
 palace." 
 
 The courtier did not stir. 
 
 " Did you understand me?" cried the youth ; 
 " move aside from the door ; I wish to leave 
 this place ; you are shameful wretches, with 
 whose breath I will not mingle mine." As 
 Petronius still kept his station, Metellus went 
 toward him. 
 
 "Then I must force my way," he cried, 
 " and regard you as a slave who is driven off 
 by kicks." 
 
 " Do you say that to me ? " exclaimed Petro- 
 nius, as Metellus clenched his fist. 
 
 The courtier really drew back a step, as the 
 youth's hand clutched his arm. 
 
 " I will drive this miserable, worm-eaten 
 courtier from the door," muttered the youth ; 
 but he had scarcely drawn aside the curtain, 
 when he staggered back with the exclamation : 
 " Force ! " on his blanched lips. He was sur- 
 rounded, captured, a prisoner ! There they 
 stood before him, in the dull red glare of the 
 
 310 
 
usations of 
 d lustreless 
 
 spise him," 
 sole answer, 
 ill leave the 
 
 the youth ; 
 sh to leave 
 itches, with 
 mine." As 
 etellus went 
 
 he cried, 
 I driven off 
 
 imed Petro- 
 
 step, as the 
 
 worm-eaten 
 the youth ; 
 :he curtain, 
 xclamation : 
 -le was sur- 
 There they 
 :lare of the 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 torches, like brazen columns, the pitiless tools 
 of tyranny. He pressed his hand to his brow 
 — captive ? Was it possible ? The features 
 of the Praetorians stared at him from behind 
 the columns. Glittering spears were levelled 
 at his breast. 
 
 " Force," he stammered scornfully, " do you 
 believe that you have power to constrain 
 me ? Why do ye stand there ? Do gray- 
 haired warriors become executioners ? Oh, 
 what Romans ! See the brave descendants of 
 Romulus ! " 
 
 The soldiers still stood as motionless as 
 brazen statues ; the smoke of the torches 
 drifted along their ranks and circled in black 
 wreaths around the columns. 
 
 " I am acting in my master's behalf," re- 
 plied Petronius, in an unsteady tone ; " you 
 know the Emperor's will : he promises wealth 
 if you fulfil it ; death, if you refuse." 
 
 " Death, if I refuse to injure a woman ? " 
 cried the youth, letting the curtain fall. 
 
 " Instant death," said the courtier. 
 
 " And can you suppose, miserable tool of 
 the tyrant, that death would be unwelcome, 
 after you have torn the masks from the faces 
 of my fellow-mortals, showed me that they 
 conceal wolfish ones, and revealed how hollow, 
 
 311 
 
 III 
 
 3' li 
 
' M--'s>4. 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 how empty is the life of the world ? Do you 
 imagine that existence would still be desired 
 by the man who has experienced what I have 
 endured? I marvel that any one dares to 
 ive, not that the wise long for death. Go on 
 kill me if you choose." ' 
 
 Metellus had uttered these words with the 
 agitated pathos which even men devoid of 
 imagination involuntarily use as soon as their 
 situation becomes tragical. 
 
 "I will give you time for reflection," re- 
 plied Petronius ; « and, as I have always had a 
 friendly feeling toward you, I might add : you 
 would do well to yield to power, and, instead 
 ot death, receive reward." 
 
 Metellus had folded his arms across his 
 breast and was gazing sullenly into vacancv 
 It was no lie to others or to himself to say 
 that he desired death. Life, divested of everv 
 charm, met his eyes like a fleshless skull 
 whose pleasant smile is transformed into a 
 sarcastic grimace. There was no more pleas- 
 ure for him ; even love for the royal lady had 
 almost vanished from his breast. Petronius 
 to whom the whole scene, as his timid glanceJ 
 betrayed, was a painful one, watched the youth 
 a tew moments with dim eyes. « He really 
 does not seem to fear death at this moment," 
 
 312 
 
i ? Do you 
 1 be desired 
 what I have 
 ne dares to 
 Lth. Go on, 
 
 *ds with the 
 
 devoid of 
 
 5on as their 
 
 ection," re- 
 :Iways had a 
 It add : you 
 and, instead 
 
 across his 
 
 to vacancy, 
 iself to say 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 ?dof 
 
 every 
 
 hiess skull 
 
 led into a 
 
 lore pleas- 
 
 lI lady had 
 
 Petronius, 
 
 nid glances 
 
 the youth 
 
 He really 
 
 moment," 
 
 he said to himself; " it 
 he added sighing. 
 
 is a pity about him, 
 
 Then it chanced that Metellus had scratched 
 his arm a little against a Praetorian's spear as 
 he took a step against the ranks of warriors, 
 and they supposed he intended to escape. It 
 was uncertain whether this little physical hurt 
 occasioned a change in the artist's mood ; but 
 Petronius noticed that he turned pale when 
 he saw his own blood flow. Shrugging his 
 shoulders, the courtier was about to withdraw 
 with the soldiers, when Metellus called him 
 by name, and, much pleased, he returned. 
 
 " Be sensible, submit to circumstances," he 
 urged ; " why should you seek death .? " 
 
 Metellus gazed at him with a smile of min- 
 gled superiority and contempt. 
 
 "Yes, why should I seek it.?" he said. 
 " Well spoken, my friend." 
 
 This admonition from the courtier had sud- 
 denly flooded the mind of the hitherto be- 
 wildered youth with light. He saw a way of 
 escape ; a distant glimmer of hope shone upon 
 him. Why should I not meet fraud with 
 fraud ! he said to himself And, clumsy as he 
 might be under the mask of dissimulation, he 
 perceived that it was necessary to divest him- 
 self of his frankness. 
 
 313 
 
 It 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 -»f.'..>"., j.,4 
 
 
 " Do with me as you choose ; I yield to 
 force," he said, after considerable hesitation, 
 trying to assume as trustworthy a face as 
 possible. 
 
 " You consent ? " 
 
 " To everything." 
 
 " You will execute the plan ? " 
 
 " What is the use of questioning? " replied 
 the youth, who was in perpetual fear that the 
 mask he was so unused to wear would be dis- 
 covered. Petronius, with a sigh of relief, held 
 out his hand. 
 
 " You have no other choice," he said ; " you 
 cannot transform the world, so you must let it 
 transform you." 
 
 " Very true, my teacher in worldly wisdom," 
 said the boy, coldly, " I am hereby giving you 
 a proof that I do not love Octavia, as you 
 seem to believe, and that my life is worth 
 more to me than her honor, — are you con- 
 vinced now ? " 
 
 " You have no other choice," said the cour- 
 tier, evasively. 
 
 " And that I may not arouse the Emperor's 
 anger," continued Metellus, in a still more ex- 
 pressionless voice, " I beg you not to repeat 
 what I uttered in a moment of bewilderment, 
 and to assure him of my devotion." 
 
 314 
 
 
I yield to 
 hesitation, 
 a face as 
 
 5? " replied 
 
 ;ar that the 
 
 uld be dis- 
 
 relief, held 
 
 said ; " you 
 must let it 
 
 y wisdom," 
 giving you 
 via, as you 
 e is worth 
 ; you con- 
 
 d the cour- 
 
 Emperor's 
 11 more ex~ 
 t to repeat 
 vilderment, 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 " I will make it the business of my life to 
 promote your welfare," said Petronius, equivo- 
 cally. 
 
 " And now let me know the details of the 
 plan," Metellus went on in an almost imperi- 
 ous tone, by whose firmness he hoped to give 
 himself mental support. 
 
 "Two hours before sunrise," Petronius be- 
 gan in a whisper, " I will accompany you to 
 the apartments of the Empress. At this time 
 she will be still at rest. You will make your 
 way to her sleeping-room, whose adjacent 
 chambers will be filled with watchers. You 
 need only exchange a few words, you and the 
 Empress, — that will suffice to surprise and 
 accuse you." 
 
 Metellus shuddered as he imagined himself 
 in this humiliating position. 
 
 " That will not do," he retorted ; " I shall 
 need half an hour. If this play is to pro- 
 duce any impression of truth upon the watch- 
 ers, and not that of an absurd farce, I ought 
 to have at least an hour's time. Besides, it 
 would be well not to send the spies into the 
 adjoining rooms until later, after I had 
 remained a little longer in the Empress's 
 presence." 
 
 Metellus had spoken with unusually stern 
 
 315 
 
 i» 
 
 I. J: 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 decision; Petronius reflected and, believing 
 that the youth had relapsed into his former 
 frankness, nodded assentingly. " I cannot help 
 approving your reasons," he said ; « you may be 
 right. You shall have your way ; hold your- 
 self in readiness— two hours before sunrise." 
 
 With these words he left the room in a more 
 cheerful mood than he had entered it. The 
 mosaic floors of the broad corridors outside 
 echoed under the tread of retreating footsteps; 
 words of command were given ; dull echoes 
 gradually died away. 
 
 Metellus sat listening, his head propped on 
 his hand. « I am beginning to accommodate 
 myself to the world," he murmured ; « I am 
 outwitting the cra'-ry ; may the gods grant that 
 I can explain the plot to the poor Empress, 
 that she may be saved." 
 
 Then he started up, laughed furiously, and, 
 hiding his face in his hands, was forced to 
 summon all his strength of will to save him- 
 self from bursting into loud weeping. As he 
 paced up and down the room with strange 
 rest essness, often pausing and murmurinp un- 
 intelligible words, Stephanus entered and told 
 him that the moonlight was beautiful in the 
 gardens outside, but that a soldier was stand- 
 mg in the shrubbery. 
 
 316 
 
id, believing 
 his former 
 r cannot help 
 '* you may be 
 ; hold your- 
 ■e sunrise." 
 >m in a more 
 ed it. The 
 dors outside 
 g footsteps ; 
 dull echoes 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 Metellus looked out. Not a breath of air 
 stirred the leaves of the trees ; the radiance of 
 the moon steeped the branches ; an oppressive 
 sultrmess brooded over the motionless leafage. 
 He stood there like a statue, awaiting the sec- 
 ond hour before sunrise, and thinking of the 
 time when, a free-born artist, he had entered 
 Rome, where he was now held captive. 
 
 propped on 
 xommodate 
 ed ; "I am 
 s grant that 
 'r Empress, 
 
 iously, and, 
 3 forced to 
 save him- 
 ng. As he 
 ith strange 
 inuring un- 
 d and told 
 iful in the 
 was stand- 
 
 3»7 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 A SMALL lamp hanging above the couch 
 in Octavia's sleeping-rooni 'cast its 
 faint light upon the wearied features of the 
 Empress, who lay staring with dilated eyes at 
 the Babylonian ornaments on the hangings of 
 the bed, vainly trying to dispel the sorrowful 
 thoughts which had haunted her throughout 
 the day. Finding herself unable to succeed, she 
 struck the metal basin standing beside the bed, 
 but was obliged to repeat the blow thrice befo.e 
 the vibrating sound waked the attendant. The 
 curtain at the door of the adjoining room 
 parted, and Meroe, with a shawl wrapped 
 around her shoulders, entered. 
 
 "Forgive me, I was so sound asleep," 
 yawned the drowsy Egyptian; "aren't you 
 asleep yet. Mistress?" 
 
 Octavia, without answering the question 
 asked for Plato's works. ' " 
 
 "The volume I usually read," she said with 
 emphasis, as if it cost her a great effort to 
 speak coherently. Meroe tottered sleepily 
 
 318 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 to the book-rack, curling up her bare toes at 
 the touch of the cold marble floor. 
 _ " I don't know why there is such a stir out- 
 side to-night," she yawned, handing the roll 
 to her mistress ; " the gravel in the garden- 
 paths creaks, and there are strange echoes in 
 the corridors. Oh, how sleepy I am ! " 
 
 She stood before the bed like a reed that the 
 wind sways to and fro. 
 
 " Sit down beside me a little while, my dear 
 child," said the Empress ; " tell me about your 
 home." 
 
 The maid sat rather sulkily beside the couch, 
 playing with the purple fringe of the coverlet ' 
 
 " Well ? " asked the Empress. 
 
 " Yes, yes," answered the maid, suppressing 
 another yawn. A pause followed ; the flame of 
 the lamp quivered ; the curtain stirred slightly 
 in the night-breeze. 
 
 "My heart is so sad to-night, Meroe, I 
 cannot sleep ; it would be very kind to divert 
 my thoughts by talking a short time," said the 
 Empress, raising herself on the pillows and 
 turning her haggard face, with its large fright- 
 ened eyes, towa -d the girl. 
 
 "Yes, indeed, I will gladly," answered Me- 
 roe, but her head fell wearily on her bosom, 
 baring her fat neck. Both were silent, Octa- 
 
 319 
 
 
 i i 
 i i ■ 
 
 / i . 
 

 Empress Octavia 
 
 via's head shook as if the muscles of her neck 
 had become enfeebled by age. It was a piteous 
 spectacle to see that proud, noble head tremble. 
 After a longer pause, she added, — 
 
 "Perhaps we shall not be together long; 
 how will you live in this world then ? " 
 
 "Oh, no, no," sighed the attendant, wearily 
 raising her head with its drooping eyelids. 
 
 "Yes, my end is drawing near," the Empress 
 began again; "my position is daily growing 
 more insecure ; alrc-dy my friends hardly dare 
 to speak to me. All shun me, and various 
 remarks which the Cresar has let fall concern- 
 ing me forebode the worst. I shall soon see 
 my brother, Meroe, soon embrace 'lis beloved 
 shade. Just think, dear one, Andromachus 
 begged the Emperor to banish me ; and Nero 
 is said to have answered that I might as well 
 die in Rome. Is it not sad, my child, to have 
 death ever before the eyes, and yet be unable 
 to die? I often feel as though I had long 
 been dead. Tell me, will you sprinkle my 
 funeral pyre with wine ; when the flames con- 
 sume my body, will you shed tears for me, 
 Meroe.?" 
 
 But, before Octavia had finished speaking, 
 Meroe's regular breathing announced that she 
 had fallen asleep. Octavia smiled mournfully. 
 
 320 
 
:s of her neck 
 : was a piteous 
 head tremble. 
 
 igether long; 
 len ? " 
 
 tidant, wearily 
 \ eyelids. 
 ' the Empress 
 laily growing 
 Is hardly dare 
 and various 
 fall concern- 
 ihall soon see 
 e 'lis beloved 
 Vndromachus 
 e; and Nero 
 night as well 
 :hild, to have 
 et be unable 
 I had long 
 sprinkle my 
 2 flames con- 
 ears for me, 
 
 ed speaking, 
 
 iced that she 
 
 mournfully. 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 "Go to bed poor girl," she said, shaking 
 her gently by the shoulder ^ 
 
 rubbP'V' '^" ^°°'''" ^''""'^ g'-^^P^d, waking, 
 rubbmg her eyes, and looking around her in 
 
 terror. " I am so tired," she Whimpered 
 
 turnedM'he;!' ''' "'"^^^^^ ''^'^'''^ ^^ 
 Meroe stretched herself like a cat, yawned 
 once more, and staggered sleepily away. Octa- 
 via, w,th a keen pang in her breast, pressed 
 her face mto the pillows and tried to^ dHve 
 away the misanthropic thoughts which strove 
 to take possession of her heart 
 
 bed; and w,th a sort of despair she tried to con- 
 centrate her mmd upon it, as if this bust could 
 afl^ord her a refuge. The snub-nosed face 
 seemed to smile compassionately ; its grotesque 
 
 shadow on the floor, the illumination of L 
 bald skull, the profound silence around, the 
 n.ght-breeze which floated through the room 
 like akmd word,- all produced an impression 
 upon her, and thus, absorbed in contemplation 
 she succeeded in ceasing to think. True a 
 warnmg often glided through her conscious- 
 ness ; but mental exhaustion robbed all these 
 warnmgs or fears of their positiveness, their 
 pamful sharpness. 
 
 321 
 
 III 
 
 III 
 
 21 
 
^Mplife;. 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 The royal lady, accustomed from childhood 
 to suffering, had acquired a power of banishing 
 from her imagination everything that might 
 become dangerous to it. She was cruel to 
 herself, and took pleasure in this cruelty ; she 
 was her own tyrant. In this way she had 
 cherished Metellus's image in her mind, with- 
 out really thinking of him. He was 'ike a 
 light which illumined her soul without her 
 seeing it; she did not think of him, yet he was 
 present, ever present to her. No matter what 
 she might do, he formed the background of all 
 her thoughts. 
 
 Gradually the bust of Socrates melted into 
 a white mist, the lamp gave the ornaments on 
 the ceiling uncertain outlines ; at last its dim 
 rays merged into the shadows of the furniture. 
 Then Octavia, as if she could no longer endure 
 her weariness, closed her eyes ; she still felt the 
 cool breath of the night wind on her cheek; 
 then care-dispelling slumber floated down upon 
 her. Her bosom rose and fell with deep, 
 regular breathing; but this breathing, her smile 
 of relief, had been watched for several minutes. 
 He whose image still lingered in the depths 
 of her soul, Metellus, had been standing for 
 some time by the gilded bed-posts in the 
 shadow of the curtain. He had stolen in and 
 
 322 
 
)m childhood 
 
 of banishing 
 
 that might 
 
 was cruel to 
 
 cruelty ; she 
 /ay she had 
 
 mind, with- 
 i was 'ike a 
 
 without her 
 1, yet he was 
 
 matter what 
 ground of all 
 
 melted into 
 irnaments on 
 
 last its dim 
 he furniture, 
 jnger endure 
 3 still felt the 
 1 her cheek; 
 1 down upon 
 
 with deep, 
 ig, her smile 
 2ral minutes. 
 ti the depths 
 standing for 
 osts in the 
 tolen in and 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 now gazed with hard, dull eyes at the sleeping 
 woman, whose oval face rested on the pillows 
 amid the tresses of her loosened hair. The beau- 
 tiful arm lying across her bosom rose and fell with 
 It; a noble peace surrounded the whole form 
 
 Metellus dared not rouse her, though he 
 felt neither reverence nor yearning love in her 
 presence. His soul was emptv, lifeless, since 
 his heart had experienced universal disappoint- 
 ment ; existence seemed valueless, love worth- 
 less ; all desire appeared to be dead within him, 
 yet passion still glimmered under the ashes 
 This woman was no longer the incarnation 
 of everv ,g noble and beautiful ; the yearning 
 humility he had previously felt at the sight 
 of her had yielded to disdain ; the rapture 
 which, a few days before, had thrilled him in 
 her presence had given place to an almost 
 scornful indifference. As he stood gazing 
 down at the sleeper, trying to crush every stir 
 ot any deeper emotion, the deceptive flicker of 
 the lamp conjured up a strange illusion in his 
 mind. A mirror stood opposite to the bed, 
 and in this mirror the youth saw Octavia's 
 face, but paler and bodiless. He instantly 
 thought of a beheaded corpse. The face in the 
 golden frame of the mirror had just that livid, 
 iireless aspect. 
 
 323 
 
 I! 
 
 '1 
 
1 1 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 A sharp pang pierced his breast ; compassion 
 forced tears to his eyes, which now rested with 
 a gentler expression on the sleeper. She had 
 grown paler and thinner; there were dark rings 
 around her closed eyes ; the misery and suffer- 
 ing of her whole desolate life looked forth from 
 the peace of her slumber. As he stood watch- 
 ing her, and felt his heart grow softer, he tried 
 to struggle against the weakness, and the con- 
 flict became so impetuous that his lips voiced 
 in a whisper the emotions contending in his 
 mind. At last the word " folly " uncon- 
 sciously escaped them in a louder tone, and 
 this one word was enough to break Octavia's 
 light slumber. She sighed, contracted her 
 brows as if in pain, and called sadly, — 
 
 " Is it you, Meroe ? " She called a second 
 time, and, receiving no answer, raised herself 
 on the pillows, murmuring sorrowfully : " Oh, 
 I was sleeping so well ! " She was about to 
 lie down again, but perceiving a shadow mov- 
 ing near the curtain she turned toward it. 
 
 "It is I, my Mistress," said Metellus, quietly, 
 standing motic nless ; and the Empress, who, 
 with the instinct of unhappiness, instantly 
 perceived by his calm expression that it was 
 no light matter that had brought him here, 
 scarcely started, but gazed at him with anxious, 
 
 324 
 
 \tt;t 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 questioning eyes, and after, as it were, swallow- 
 ing tl^e anxious foreboding that oppressed her, 
 
 "Me ilus, I was dreaming of you ' " 
 
 fh. • "ut ^"'^ °" '^' sculptor's ear as if 
 the voice belonged to a shade from the nether 
 world, ,t was so dull, so colorless. A raptur- 
 ous sorrow thrilled him as he closed his eves 
 
 fell" \ '!iV°r "'"'"V'' "'^ '^°"^ y°"^ dreams," 
 fell rudely from his almost motionless lips 
 Yet he felt a chill agitation stealing over him 
 and was forced to confess to himself, with 
 shame, that this woman loved him far more 
 purely and tenderly than he loved her, that he 
 was unworthy of so unselfish a feeling. « How 
 
 wicked I am! "cried a voice in his soul; «shl 
 loves me, who forgot her in Popp^a's embrace 
 me who even now ao not love her as I ought ' "' 
 
 I he Empress gazed at him absently wi"th 
 her large, mournful eyes, and said, — 
 
 "You are right to blame me; /ought to be 
 
 t.nk^„gonhelandwhe..he.a.^„ol': 
 areams. Then she rose, arranged her gar- 
 ments and her hair, and even looLd intoThe 
 mirror. She seemed unconscious of any other 
 presence, as if she were a shade that had fled 
 
 325 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 from Orcus to descend thither again after the 
 allotted respite was over. The youth was so 
 touched by this dreamy absence of mind that, 
 although not a muscle of his face moved,' 
 burning tears rolled down his cheeks. Then 
 Octavia at last sank wearily into a seat ; she 
 clasped her hands in her lap and looked at the 
 youth with the strange, lifeless, yet touching 
 expression of love subdued. 
 
 "You are weeping," she said; "do you 
 mourn Octavia's fate?" 
 
 Metellus . now first perceived that he was 
 weeping, he hastily shook his head and was 
 about to speak. 
 
 "You have cause to weep for me," she 
 whispered dreamily, bending toward him with 
 half-parted lips ; "I know why you came; I 
 have deserved that you should weep for me.'" 
 
 Metellus shook off the overwhelming sense 
 of anguish, and, trying to appear harsh, said: 
 " Danger is at hand ; your life is threatened." 
 Then, with the utmost composure, he re- 
 vealed the plan which Nero had devised for 
 her destruction ; and not until he was forced 
 to intimate that he himself had been used as 
 the tool of her ruin, did his voice begin to 
 tremble. At last he broke down. The unex- 
 pected disclosure made a stronger impression 
 
 326 
 
 4 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 upon the hapless woman than Metellus had 
 expected. She did not receive it with cahn- 
 ness and dignity. She had listened with com- 
 pressed lips ; now she trembled violently, her 
 breathing grew labored, and he.- eyes glowed 
 with the fever of mortal terror. 
 
 " I am weak and foolish, am I not ? " she 
 said apologetically. " I ought to be different, 
 1 know — " she pressed both hands on her 
 temples as she spoke — « oh, in what power 
 the gods placed me ; what a terrible man ! " 
 
 Metellus tried to find words of consolation, 
 but uttered only inarticulate sounds. 
 
 "What a terrible man!" she repeated 
 agam, alluding to her husband, and then re- 
 lapsed into silence. They heard Meroe snor- 
 ing behmd the curtain ; it was the only sound 
 that interrupted the stillness, and its animal 
 comfort contrasted strangely with the mental 
 anguish of the two watchers. A stronger 
 gust of wind blew aside the curtain from the 
 balcony ; the disk of the moon looked sadly 
 into the room ; a withered leaf fluttered noise- 
 lessly in and, after drifting through the air, 
 settled on the marble floor. 
 
 " Metellus," gasped Octavia, after a long 
 pause, "Metellus, oh, it is terrible — I shall 
 die — " 
 
 327 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 "Die? Can the thought horrify you?" 
 rephed Metellus. 
 
 " 1 am a woman," she wailed, exerting all her 
 mental power to repress her weakness ; " we 
 have not your courage - die ! Oh, where shall 
 1 hnd comfort — I have nothing to which I 
 could cling ! " 
 
 She clasped her hands and gazed despairingly 
 at the youth, whose expression, half pityiL 
 half wonderingly reproving, made her realize 
 the littleness of this sudden outburst. She 
 humbly bowed her head, and fixed her eyes 
 upon the floor in shame. 
 
 "Forgive my weakness," she said at last ; « I 
 will be strong ; I will strive to be strong. One 
 who has read Plato should not fear death A 
 plot to destroy me; oh, it is disgraceful I What 
 wrong have I done, that they plan to remove 
 me from the world ? Oh, it is shameful ' " 
 
 Metellus told her the details of the plot, and 
 the surprise which was to take place in her 
 sleeping-room that very night. 
 
 SWr TV' ^' ^o"<^I"ded,«to inform 
 you of this, and then, before your foes can sur- 
 prise us, to fly, perhaps to Bai^, or wherever 
 my feet can carry me." 
 
 The Empress could say nothing except: 
 Oh, It IS shameful ! " which she repeated me- 
 
 328 
 
la 
 
 lorrify you?" 
 
 Jxerting all her 
 sakness ; " we 
 'h, where shall 
 g to which I 
 
 d despairingly 
 half pitying, 
 le her realize 
 itburst. She 
 ced her eyes 
 
 :d at last; "I 
 strong. One 
 ar death. A 
 :eful! What 
 in to remove 
 imeful ! " 
 the plot, and 
 place in her 
 
 "to inform 
 oes can sur- 
 or wherever 
 
 ng except : 
 jpeated me- 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 chanically, pressing her trembling arms upon 
 her bosom. Her grief was the more touching 
 because the struggle between it and the great- 
 ness of soul which she had acquired by study 
 was plamly visible; the culture that she had 
 gained bent its head, as it were, under the 
 breath of death. When Metellus saw her in 
 this condition, he felt as if he were being torn 
 asunder by wild horses, the floor swayed under 
 his feet, and his parched tongue stuck to his 
 palate as he faltered, — 
 
 "Farewell, it is time for me to go; I must not 
 be tound longer in Rome to-night. If it is 
 possible, I will try to save you ; perhaps the 
 populace will make an attempt to rescue you 
 from the clutches of your destroyer." 
 
 As he muttered the words, half unintelli- 
 gibly he turned to go as quickly as possible, 
 to end the scene with manly strength. But as 
 the Empress saw him hurrying away she 
 roused herself by a violent efl^orc from the par- 
 alyzing spell with which mental bewilderment 
 bound her limbs. He had drawn the curtain 
 back; the moon-lit park lay at his feet in the 
 sultry mght; the blue, sultry night, in which 
 the leafage glistened with a golden haze, was 
 mirrored in the polished marble walls ; far 
 away on the horizon a mass of dark clouds was 
 
 329 
 
f! 
 
 lii i 
 
 » 
 
 ■1 
 
 it 
 
 i*ui 1 
 
 
 W' 
 
 1 
 
 
 ; 1 
 ii ' 
 
 
 i 
 
 ! 
 
 i 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 rising, which sometimes emitted a low rumble 
 of thunder as if fierce wrath was seething in 
 their depths. But, before he reached the bal- 
 cony that led to the grounds, Octavia rose .nd 
 tottered several steps toward him. She seemed 
 to be recovering her consciousness, and gradu- 
 ally understanding what he intended to do, for 
 she looked at him questioningly, and he, with 
 his hand on the metal railing of the balcony, 
 gazed in bewilderment at her. 
 
 The slender figure of the Empress, around 
 whose delicate limbs floated the folds of her 
 light robe, stood steeped in the bluish moon- 
 light. Trembling in every limb, as if a tre- 
 mendous weight rested on his shoulders, the 
 artist gazed reluctantly at her with an expression 
 of yearning sorrow. Octavia flung her white 
 arms above her head, her bosom heaving under 
 the robe, and her lips moved, but no words 
 issued from them. A stronger breeze, the har- 
 binger of the approaching thunderstorm, swept 
 through the room. ; all the hangings, garments, 
 and scrolls rustled; the dark wall of clouds 
 rolled swiftly nearer, like a legion hurrying to 
 battle ; often it flashed brightly as if glowing 
 with secret fury, then rolled on black and 
 threatening as before. 
 
 The two figures still stood irresolute; Me- 
 
 330 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 tellus waited for her approach, she for his 
 A fold of the curtain was softly pushed aside at 
 the end of the room ; neither noticed it. The 
 opening widened ; a spying eye appeared ; but 
 only the bust of Socrates saw the spiteful face, 
 heard the malicious whispering, the clank of 
 weapons. 
 
 Octavia moved nearer to Metellus ; at last 
 she stood directly before him, agitated, it is 
 IS true, but calmer. She was endeavoring to 
 show herself the Empress, to bear her sorrow 
 wiih dignity. Both remained motionless. At 
 last she murmured, — 
 
 "Tell me only one thing before death 
 comes, Metellus — did you love me?" 
 
 With drooping head, he whispered almost 
 under his breath : " Yes, my Mistress ! " 
 
 " I thank you," she replied ; « J shall die 
 easier now." 
 
 Another gust of wind fluttered the gar- 
 ments of both; a peal of thunder, loud and 
 
 r^vStions°°'' ""' '''' "^^'"^ """"^ ''' ^°"S 
 "And you -you, oh, my Mistress," asked 
 Metellus, in eager, breathless haste, « oh, speak, 
 did you, too — " he hesitated. 
 ^^ " Hush, my friend," she interrupted gravely, 
 1 am the Empress ; it does not beseem me to 
 
 33^ 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 love. Take the assurance that you have ren- 
 dered the last day of my life beautiful. What 
 
 can the love of a hapless woman avail you 
 
 but now! Farewell! It is time for you to 
 go- 
 
 " Oh, not yet," he whispered, suddenly 
 overpowered by the might of his passion. 
 
 " Consider my safety," she answered. 
 
 " Not now," he repeated, " I cannot go yet 
 — forgive me, my august Mistress — you are 
 so beautiful — " 
 
 " How selfish it is to tell me this now ! " she 
 murmured. " You do not love me, or you 
 would speak differently." 
 
 " Oh, let me touch your lips," he pleaded ; 
 " oh, how beautiful you are ! " 
 
 She smiled and shook her head. 
 
 " Your hand, at least," he implored. 
 
 "You would kiss the hand of a dead 
 woman," Oc ivia answered. 
 
 " Oh, I know, it is base in me ! " he mut- 
 tered. 
 
 " Not base," she said, pushing the hair back 
 from his forehead; "poor boy," she added, 
 "how gladly I would do everything for you, 
 everything! And so you really love me? 
 Poor boy — " 
 
 " Kiss me, and I shall be rich," he whispered. 
 
 332 
 
 €( 
 
:avia 
 
 at you have ren- 
 
 beautiful. What 
 
 man avail you — 
 
 time for you to 
 
 spered, suddenly 
 
 his passion. 
 
 answered. 
 
 ■ I cannot go yet 
 
 stress — you are 
 
 e this now ! " she 
 ove me, or you 
 
 ps," he pleaded ; 
 
 lead. 
 
 mplored. 
 
 and of a dead 
 
 me!" he mut- 
 
 ng the hair back 
 oy," she added, 
 ry thing for you, 
 •eally love me ? 
 
 1," he whispered. 
 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 Octavia gazed at him as if intoxicated, 
 clasped his head between her hands, and 
 pressed a long, ardent kiss upon his brow. 
 
 He was about to embrace her rapturously, 
 but, as he looked up, his eyes rested upon the 
 end of the room. He had delayed too lonL^ ' 
 They were there ! A convulsive cry escaped 
 his lips, he seized the railing of the balcony 
 with both hands, and flung himself down, al- 
 most senseless, into the shrubbery of the park. 
 The Empress had turned ; behind the cur- 
 tained doorway of the adjoining room glittered 
 the helmets of soldiers, curious faces were 
 peering from the other two rooms; Petronius 
 whispered a few words in the ear of the 
 Enriperor, who advanced several paces in front 
 of his tram, and, frowning gloomily, stood, with 
 a gesture of surprise, in the centre of the 
 chamber. 
 
 " He has fled," said Petronius, pointing to 
 Octavia while the Emperor, wrapping his 
 night-robe closer around him, called for a pair 
 of sandals for his bare feet, still fixing his eyes 
 upon his wife. 
 
 *' I rushed from my bed, unwilling to believe 
 It, said Nero, with studied dignity, turning to 
 his attendants ; "but I am forced to do so- 
 look, the Lord of the World does not even 
 
 333 
 
ill 
 
 11 
 
 I ! 
 
 m 
 
 m 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 possess what every honest citizen has, — a faith- 
 ful ! wife ! I am dishonored ! Say what the 
 woman deserves who has done this ! " 
 
 The attendants stood motionless ; every eye 
 was fixed upon Octavia. The Empress flushed, 
 then paled, as she recognized her husband. A 
 frantic, maniacal fury gradually distorted her 
 beautiful features almost beyond recognition, 
 as she continued to gaze into Nero's brutal, 
 hypocritical face. 
 
 " Is this a fitting hour to be modelled ? 
 Can you deny that the sculptor visited you ? " 
 the Emperor continued. " I have long sus- 
 pected you ; this time I have gained my object, 
 — the proofs of your infidelity are in my hands. 
 The judges of Rome will pronounce your 
 doom ; the people of Rome will see whom they 
 have honored in you. Until that time, I will 
 place you under military guard, that you may 
 not be able, by night, to translate into prose 
 Ovid's * Art of Love.' " 
 
 Octavia had been searching his face with 
 eyes that he shunned. 
 
 " You ? " she gasped, clinging to the rail- 
 ing of the balcony, "you? — dishonored — 
 faithless to you — you?" she was struggling 
 vainly to find words in her overwhelming 
 excitement. 
 
 334 
 
 !!'! 
 
via 
 
 n has, — a faith - 
 Say what the 
 e this!" 
 niess ; every eye 
 Empress flushed, 
 ler husband. A 
 ly distorted her 
 )nd recognition, 
 • Nero's brutal, 
 
 > be modelled ? 
 r visited you ? " 
 have long sus- 
 ained my object, 
 are in my hands. 
 )ronounce your 
 I see whom they 
 :hat time, I will 
 y that you may 
 slate into prose 
 
 [ his face with 
 
 ;ng to the rail- 
 
 - dishonored — 
 
 was struggling 
 
 overwhelming 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 "There is no name for your corruption," 
 she shrieked, and, as Nero approached her, she 
 could no longer control herself, but spit into 
 his face. With the act, the strength she had 
 mamtamed with so much difficulty failed, she 
 sank moaning to the floor of the balcony, wrap- 
 ping herself, with half unconscious modesty, 
 in fhe folds of the curtains. Nero left the* 
 room with a look of foolish rage on his 
 embarrassed face, while Octavia lay a long time 
 before her terrified servants ventured to raise 
 the senseless figure. 
 
 335 
 
ly iM 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 POPP.EA SABINA was still sleeping, 
 when, early in the morning, the Ctesar 
 hastened to her couch. The light of the lamp 
 which streamed from the ceiling upon the pil- 
 lows mingled with the first rosy hues of dawn, 
 as Nero cautiously drew back the curtain, and 
 pressed a kiss upon the fair curls of his love. 
 Poppaea yawned, and asked very peevishly who 
 had the insolence to rob her of the delicious 
 morning nap ; and even the face of her august 
 patron, peeping forth mischievously from the 
 folds of drapery behind which he had hidden 
 himself, did not immediately smooth her 
 frowning brow. 
 
 "What folly," she cried, "to wake me! 
 Don't you know that the lover should never sur- 
 prise the object of his affection at her toilet ? " 
 
 "At her toilet?" asked Nero, in amazement. 
 
 "Yes, look here!" cried Poppsa angrily, 
 pushing the curtain entirely aside ; at which the 
 Cassar, startled, drew back several paces from 
 the couch. Poppaea's whole face was covered 
 
 336 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 with a thick crust composed of bread dough 
 moistened with milk. This was intended to 
 give the complexion smoothness ; and Poppsa, 
 who, like all h.autif ;' women, did not wish to 
 have the secr-t5- of h..: toilet exposed, was in- 
 consolable bfa. se he lover had seen her in 
 this condition. In fact, very little of her 
 beauty was visible: her hair was wound up in 
 rolls; her face looked like the raw hide of an 
 animal; her bosom and hands were covered 
 with oiled cloths ; her whole person resembled 
 a newly embalmed mummv. Nero had soiled 
 his face and hands with the dough, besides 
 scratching his finger with a hairpin, and seemed 
 to be somewhat disenchanted by the spectacle 
 of this disfigured beauty. At last Poppsa 
 called her maid, who instantly appeared with a 
 bowl of warm milk and a towel, and, by her 
 mistress's orders, washed off the dougfi. The 
 fair face soon appeared from under the black 
 crust; and, without troubling herself about 
 her illustrious visitor, Poppaa rose from her 
 couch, orde: ed the cloths to be removed, and 
 finally said she must be left alone with her 
 servant, — she would never permit the Em- 
 peror to know still more about the arts of her 
 toilet. 
 
 "Know still more?" laughed Nero, who 
 
 337 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 was again in the best possible humor. " What 
 greater surprise could be in store for me? 
 Will it appear that the charms I have embraced 
 did not belong to you at all ? You had your 
 bosom sent from Greece; your hair from Ger- 
 many ; your arms from Syria, — where did you 
 get your teeth ? And what salve do I kiss 
 instead of your lips ? " 
 
 Leave me at once," she answered angrily ; 
 "you see I am ugly to-day, and shall con- 
 stantly become uglier. If you don't go, I '11 
 arm my slave women with hairpins, and prick 
 you out of the door." 
 
 "Suppose I should tell you that our wed- 
 ding will take place in a few days," answered 
 JNero,— "what will you do to me then ? " 
 
 " What ! " cried Poppaea, — " our wedding .? 
 Are you telling the truth ? " 
 
 " Octavia is already accused of a crime whose 
 doom is death ; the sentence will be executed 
 in a few days." 
 
 ^ Nero related the incidents of the previous 
 mght, whereupon Poppasa's mood instantly 
 brightened. ^ 
 
 "I! Empress of Rome! My rival dis- 
 honored, overthrown.?" cried the reckless 
 woman exultingly. « Oh, you are my god ' 
 Lome, let me embrace you, my Jupiter! " 
 
 338 
 
 ' -rtiili 
 
ivia 
 
 lumor. " What 
 store for me ? 
 I have embraced 
 You had your 
 • hair from Ger- 
 — where did you 
 salve do I kiss 
 
 swered angrily; 
 
 and shall con- 
 
 i don't go, I '11 
 
 pins, and prick 
 
 I that our wed- 
 ays," answered 
 ne then ? " 
 
 ' our wedding ? 
 
 'a crime whose 
 
 II be executed 
 
 the previous 
 lood instantly 
 
 VI y rival dis- 
 the reckless 
 are my god ! 
 
 [upiter ! " 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 I 
 
 " Not Jupiter ! " said Nero, as she impetu- 
 ously showered kisses upon him. "Let me 
 be your Hercules! I intend ;o strangle a 
 lion — a trained one, of course — in the Circus 
 before the people very soon,— so let me be 
 your Hercules." 
 
 Poppaea now cautiously inqi ired about Me- 
 tellus, and, when she learned that he had 
 fled, she concealed her dismay, which, how- 
 ever, increased when Nero declared that the 
 fugitive would be pursued and rendered harm- 
 less, as he might be dangerous. Popp^a be- 
 came remarkably quiet, fixed her eyes on the 
 floor, and only nodded occasionally when the 
 Emperor elaborately explained his intention of 
 calhng Rome Neropoiis, in order to render 
 his name immortal. 
 
 At last she ventured to interrupt him to 
 ask, in a tone of forced indifl^erence, whether it 
 was absolutely necessary that Metellus should 
 die. The Cssar looked at her in surprise 
 carelessly answered, " Of course," and went on 
 with his former conversation. When he was 
 about to leave her, she again tried to return to 
 Metellus by remarking, with a laugh, that it 
 was a pity for the handsome fellow to die. 
 They ought to let him live. Nero became 
 thoughtful, and, sighing, began to say a few 
 
 339 
 
m: 
 I 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 words about the transitoriness of life, the per- 
 ishableness of beauty, till Poppaea hoped that, 
 m this philosophical mood, he would pardon 
 the fugitive ; but he suddenly broke off, ask- 
 ing her whether the name " Neropoh"s " would 
 not sound very musical, after which, when she 
 had assented, he left her. 
 
 Poppaea allowed her maids to dress her with 
 all the care which her toilet required, during 
 which time, to the surprise of all, no words 
 of reproof, usually so often uttered, escaped 
 her lips. For the first time, she showed a cer- 
 tain indifference to the salves, mirrors, and 
 ornaments. Even the arrangement of her 
 "amber locks" won very Httle attention. 
 
 Toward noon she had herself carried in a 
 litter to Rufus, whom the Caesar's favor had 
 already made a legate. His very richly fur- 
 nished mansion was near the Forum, and when 
 Poppaea entered the splendid, but showy, in- 
 artistic rooms, she did not wait long for their 
 master. Rufus seemed to have become more 
 timid, more gloomy. The smile with which 
 he invited his visitor to sit down was meaning- 
 less and cold. Poppaea did not treat him like 
 an upstart, but as if he was a member of the 
 old nobility, praised the furniture of the rooms, 
 which displayed very little taste, but a great 
 
 340 
 
avia 
 
 of life, the per- 
 )paea hoped that, 
 le would pardon 
 T broke off, ask- 
 eropoh's " would 
 which, when she 
 
 :o dress her with 
 required, during 
 )f all, no words 
 Littered, escaped 
 le showed a cer- 
 s, mirrors, and 
 gement of her 
 
 attention, 
 elf carried in a 
 !sar's favor had 
 /ery richly fur- 
 orum, and when 
 
 but showy, in- 
 : long for their 
 'e become more 
 lile with which 
 n was meaning- 
 t treat him like 
 member of the 
 •e of the rooms, 
 te, but a great 
 
 Empress Octavfa 
 
 
 J 
 
 deal of money, spoke of the Emperor, and 
 
 inquired for Esther, his mother, which ques- 
 tion Rufus evaded. She was ill and could not 
 be seen, he said, and then awkwardly turned 
 the conversation to a statue of Apollo which 
 stood near. 
 
 ^^ "It cost me ten thousand denarii," he said, 
 when I sent to Greece for it. Would you 
 suppose, from looking at the marble, ^hat it 
 was so expensive? " 
 
 The soldier continued to talk about the 
 costly uselessness of such work, remarking 
 that one of h.s well-drilled recruits, if soundly 
 drubbed, would produce such a statue gratis 
 Popp^a waited impatiently till he had finished' 
 and then alluded so abruptly, and with such 
 evident decision, to the event to which Rufus 
 owed all his wealth and honors, that the war- 
 rior, suspecting some evil, started. 
 ^^ " Who can it have been," she whispered, 
 tha wanted to murder the Emperor? 
 _^eople say it was Octavia.? Do you believe 
 
 She watched Rufus's startled face, listened 
 to his faltered words, and soon convinced 
 herself that she had touched the right spot 
 to make him useful to her. She instantly 
 dropped the subject, and, before her antago- 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 nist had recovered himself, spoke, without any 
 intervening comment, of the fugitive Metellus, 
 so that the suspicion could not fail to enter 
 the soldier's mind that he could render her 
 an important service — which she would re- 
 pay by another — by keeping silence concern- 
 ing some vague occurrence. A pleasant smile 
 mstantly rested upon Rufus's face. "She 
 suspects everything," he said to himself, but 
 he answered aloud, — 
 
 "Mistress, you know that you can com- 
 mand me — we are alone ! Speak." 
 Poppasa's face flur^ed. 
 
 " We must aid or another in life," she re- 
 plied, equivocally ; « the greatest services which 
 we can render often consist in keeping silence." 
 Then she rose to take leave. Rufus fol- 
 lowed her slowly, doubtfully, with the ex- 
 pression of a man who is listening intently 
 for some disclosure; but Poppsa did not turn 
 toward him again until they entered the last 
 room, from which the outer door opened. 
 
 " It occurs to me," she said, " this Metellus, 
 or whatever his name is — " she paused. 
 
 " Yes, this Metellus," ■ 7 ed Rufus, averting 
 his^face to make it eas'-r ;o> ' er to continue. 
 
 " Yes, lest I shouiu forget," she went on, 
 blushing, « he is pursued." 
 
 342 
 
 - ! , -^ 
 
:e, without any 
 ;itive Metellus, 
 t fail to enter 
 jld render her 
 she would re- 
 lence concern- 
 pleasant smile 
 face. « She 
 :o himself, but 
 
 ^ou can com- 
 ik." 
 
 1 life," she re- 
 services which 
 3ing silence." 
 . Rufus fol- 
 with the ex- 
 ning intently 
 
 did not turn 
 tered the last 
 
 opened, 
 ^his Metellus, 
 paused, 
 ufus, averting 
 :o continue, 
 she went on, 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 lier. 
 
 " Pursued ? " repeated the sol 
 
 " They want to kill him." 
 
 « Kill him ? " 
 
 "Is it not cruel? He is still so young. 
 Could he not be saved ? " 
 
 Rufus looked into Poppaea's face, which had 
 grown a shade paler. Then he reflected. 
 
 " If there should be a pretext of keeping 
 him a prisoner," he answered, " he might be 
 saved." 
 
 "Very well, I will arrange through the 
 Emperor that you shall be sent in pursuit of 
 him," replied Poppaea. Rufus smiled. 
 
 " I understand, my Mis^- js. One service 
 deserves another," he said, "you know that 
 the Emperor has given me a villa on the Gulf 
 of Bai^." 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " Well, I will make this villa the prison of 
 a certain man. You understand." 
 
 With these words in her ears, the noble lady 
 departed. 
 
 " Oh, that she still lives ! " muttered Rufus, 
 after Poppaea had gone, pressing his clenched 
 hands to his brow; "she is old but strong, 
 and I love her, yet, yet she ought not to live 
 longer." 
 
 To whom did he allude in these words ? 
 
 343 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 SEVERAL days after the catastrophe pre- 
 viously related, the Emperor had himself 
 carried to his gardens, where, in the presence 
 of his applauders, he was trying to reach the 
 "high note." This note, which was to inter- 
 rupt the singing rhy Mimical] y, almost like the 
 accompanying melody, was especially pleasing 
 to the ear of the royal singer on account of 
 its exquisite time, and the difficulty of its exe- 
 cution. So to-day he stood on a chair, while 
 about a thousand young lads, with beautifully 
 curled locks, encircled him, their eyes fixed 
 upon him, their hands raised to applaud. 
 Surrounded by the floating folds of his toga, 
 with the laurel wreath on his reddish locks, 
 he swept his hands over the strings of the 
 lyre, glittering in the sunlight, whose notes 
 accompanied the affected distortions of the 
 face which the exertion of singing extorted. 
 His voice sounded hollow; the veins on his 
 forehead swelled proi ^ ently as soon as he 
 was obliged to forcf ^ her tones from his 
 throat. 
 
 '"^8 
 
II 
 
 :atastrophe pre- 
 ror had himself 
 in the presence 
 ig to reach the 
 h was to inter- 
 almost like the 
 lecially pleasing 
 on account of 
 ulty of its exe- 
 i a chair, while 
 vith beautifully 
 leir eyes fixed 
 
 1 to applaud, 
 is of his toga, 
 
 reddish locks, 
 strings of the 
 , whose notes 
 )rtions of the 
 ging extorted. 
 
 2 veins on his 
 IS soon as he 
 )nes from his 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 The applause was intended to occur exactly in 
 the pauses of the song, which, however, was diffi- 
 cult to manage, as usually the hands, moving too 
 soon, spoiled the close of the delivery, so that 
 there was danger that, in the execution of the 
 music, a large part of the Emperor's divine tones 
 would be lost to the people. Menecratis stood 
 beside the chair, marking the time. A trill had 
 just completed " the death of Clytemnestra," 
 when a slave glided up to Menecrates to whisper 
 a message. This was the day which had been 
 appointed for Octavia's execution ; her sentence 
 (to obtain which false witnesses had been sum- 
 moned) had been pronounced; at this hour, 
 which the Emperor was devoting to singing 
 exercises, the Empress was to see the light of 
 the sun for the last time. Nero asked the 
 slave what news he brought, and learned that 
 Andromachus had refused to open the Em- 
 press's veins, indignantly exclaiming that he 
 was a leech to preserve life, not to destroy it. 
 
 "This woman torments me even in her 
 death," replied the Caesar. " Then call a barber 
 or some other leech," he added angrily; "but 
 do not interrupt me now. If you had even 
 the slightest appreciation of Art, you would 
 not disturb my leisure hours with such un- 
 pleasant subjects." 
 
 345 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 Yet it cost the royal singer some effort to 
 continue his song, though his most intimate 
 friends scarcely noticed it. But he often 
 struck a false note, and once he even gazed 
 thoughtfully into vacancy, as if secret thoughts 
 disturbed him. 
 
 " I slept very badly last night," he whispered 
 to Menecrates ; " I dreamed that Octavia was 
 dragging me through a dark passage to an 
 abyss. I see that I am in no mood to sing 
 to-day. I will practise racing." 
 
 The applauders were dismissed, and Nero, 
 whose brow was still clouded, called upon his 
 court fool, Vatinius, to cheer him. As Vatin- 
 ius vainly sought for jests, his master ordered 
 him to tell him some funny stories quickly, 
 or he should feel the lash. 
 
 " You pretend to be a fool, so prove your- 
 self one whenever I want you to amuse me " 
 said Nero. 
 
 " I will give you the funniest jests I can 
 invent. Lord," said the frightened fool ; " but 
 laughing depends upon yourself; I am not 
 master of the muscles which produce it." 
 
 Then he strove most eagerly to invent 
 comical quips, phrases with double meaning. 
 But no one laughed at the dirty witticisms of 
 the misshapen dwarf; and the Caesar was just 
 
 346 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 entering the chariot that stood waiting, when 
 another messenger arrived. 
 
 " Octavia requests that no one except An- 
 dromachus shall open her veins," he an- 
 nounced. 
 
 " Let that message be taken to Androma- 
 chus," Nero commanded. Then he turned 
 to Petronius. 
 
 " How does she meet death ? " he asked in a 
 low tone. Petronius shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " She scarcely speaks," he answered gloomily. 
 
 " Does she make any remark about the 
 Caesar?" Nero went on. "Condemning.? 
 Cursing ? " 
 
 " None at all," replied Petronius. 
 
 " I do not like that," Nero burst forth ; "she 
 ought to hate me. If she had only cursed 
 me ! Why does she not curse me ? " 
 
 " She was reading Plato until the guards 
 entered to announce the death-sentence." 
 
 "Plato? Well? And then?" Nero wen 
 on, examining the reins of the horses to hide 
 his suspense. 
 
 " Then she laid down the book and nodded, 
 as if assenting to the words of the sage," an- 
 S'"ered Petronius. 
 
 " And did not utter one word of hate ? " 
 
 « No." 
 
 347 
 
I I!" ^i 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 "Nov ! V .he slightest fear of death?" 
 "No," replied the courtier again, shrugging 
 his shoulders. ^^ ^ 
 
 "She defies me to the end," murmured 
 Nero. 
 
 "Her cheeks began to flush," Petronius 
 added; « her breathing grew more labored, and 
 the veins in her temples throbbed." 
 
 Here the Emperor whispered something; his 
 face woia a spiteful, satisfied smile, then in- 
 stantly assumed a look of mournful approval. 
 " Afterwaids she stepped out upon the bal- 
 cony and gazed up at the sun a long ti,ne, until 
 her eyes ached. She seemed to be taking leave 
 of the world, for she raised her hand as if greet- 
 ing the sky. Then she ordered water to be 
 brought, md watered her favorite plants, looked 
 ^ut int( he pari' again, and silentlv drew the 
 curtain before the balcony." 
 
 "Poison would have been quicker," mut- 
 tered Nex-o, grasping the whip ; « what do the 
 people say .? " 
 
 **They remain quiet," replied Petronius. 
 
 thn Metellus is captured, he whis- 
 perer, .s h entered the chariot; "his death is 
 necessary, as you can easi* perceive." 
 
 Petronius withdrew, and the Emperor drove 
 slowly to the Circus to practise racing, of whic'^ 
 
 348 
 
la 
 
 3f death?" 
 ain, shrugging 
 
 i," murmured 
 
 1," Petronius 
 I labored, and 
 1." 
 
 )mething; his 
 nile, then in- 
 ul approval, 
 pon the bai- 
 ng Li.ne, until 
 ; talcing leave 
 id as if greet- 
 water to be 
 >lants, looked 
 itlv drew the 
 
 icker," mut- 
 what do the 
 
 'etronius. 
 I," he whis- 
 his death is 
 
 iperor drove 
 ng, of which 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 he was passionately fond. When, toward noon, 
 wearied and dusty, he reached the palace, news 
 of his wife's death was brought to him, which 
 he received in silence. Later he said to his 
 confidant. Spier '.is, — 
 
 " Let her go and toy with her brother." 
 • •••§•« 
 
 Toward evening Burrus and Andromachus 
 met in a hall of the palace. Andromachus 
 had attended Poppaea, who was suffering from 
 a slight indisposition ; Burrus, who was in com- 
 mand of the night-guard, waited for him. 
 Bo^h shook hands silently, and went to the gar- 
 dens, where they lost themselves in the wind- 
 ing paths. It was a stormy night; the trees 
 rustled ; leaves whirled by ; trunks groaned ; 
 and the moon often disappeared behind clouds. 
 For a long time not a word was exchanged 
 between them : each knew what secretly en- 
 grossed the other's thoughts, each r^.,pectf„d the 
 other's sorrow, until at last Burrus b: Xt the 
 silence. 
 
 "Will you not tell me how the Empress 
 died?" he asked. 
 
 " I ! " replied the leech, in a harsh tone. 
 "Why should I?" 
 
 " They say that you opened her veins," re- 
 plied the 'ommander of the Praetorians. 
 
 349 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 tt 
 
 So you know it? " said the physician, pain- 
 fully affected; "that is another one; I thought 
 you would not know-^oh, Burrus — it was a 
 terrible hour — she entreated me to do it." 
 Both were silent. 
 
 " Now the doors are thrown wide open to 
 corruption," muttered Burrus, grinding his 
 teeth ; "now that she is gone, the tyrant will 
 permit huTiseJf everything. Madness sits upon 
 the throne, and stupidity worships it. Oh an 
 admirable world ! " ' 
 
 The physician passed his hand over his brow, 
 while Burrus laughed hoarsely. 
 
 " When I entered her room," Andromachus 
 began, « I saw her, surrounded by her weep- 
 ing women, sitting on a chair beside the bed 
 which she had just left. Her dress showed 
 special attention; her hair was carefully arranged 
 and adorned with the imperial diadem. She 
 neld m her lap a jewel-casket, from which she 
 was giving her maids pearls, rings, and pins. 
 
 l^aithful service is ill repaid with gold, it 
 IS true,' she said quietly ; ' but you know that 
 It is intended only for a memento of your mis- 
 tress. Take it, and take with it the highest 
 reward that I can give.' As she spoke, she 
 told the maids to kneel down in a row, and 
 kissed each one on her forehead, while she 
 
 350 
 
la 
 
 :>hysician, pain- 
 )ne; I thought 
 rrus — it was a 
 ; to do it." 
 
 wide open to 
 
 grinding his 
 
 the tyrant will 
 
 Iness sits upon 
 
 )s it. Oh, an 
 
 over his brow, 
 
 Andromachus 
 by her weep- 
 side the bed, 
 dress showed 
 fully arranged 
 liadem. She 
 im which she 
 , and pins, 
 with gold, it 
 u know that 
 of your mis- 
 the highest 
 ; spoke, she 
 ^ a row, and 
 , while she 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 checked the 
 
 convulsive v/eeping of several, 
 
 saying: 'She herself was glad to be permitted 
 to leave this world, but sorry that she could no 
 longer see her good attendants.' 
 
 " * Poor girls,' she added, ' I wished to give 
 you your freedom; but this was refused me. 
 So you must patiently endure the yoke until 
 the hour comes which is now approaching me, 
 and which will break your chains. Have 
 patience with me, if I say no more; and do 
 not, as is customary, strive to rouse the com- 
 passion of your tyrant and mine. It is hard 
 for me to speak.' You can imagine, Burrus, 
 how these words pierced my heart; I did not 
 venture to advance, but remained standing at 
 the back of the chamber. Then she gazed 
 with dull eyes into the distance as if seeking 
 some vague, joy-giving vision. 
 
 " * The kind Mistress will die,' said Meroe, 
 wonderingly, looking inquisitively into the 
 quiet face whose large dark eyes were almost 
 ghostly in their expression. Of what was she 
 thinking, Burrus? It was as still as a sick- 
 chamber. The maids moved noisehssly, and 
 repressed their tears. In the distance the 
 fountain in the ante-room plashed musically. 
 The coolness of the dusky room invited sleep, 
 and death seemed only like sleep's quieter 
 
 351 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 brother. As I went nearer, she saw me, and a 
 grateful, contented smile flitted over her worn 
 features. 
 
 _"*I thank you for coming,' she said- ^I 
 wis;t to die by your hand only.' 
 "I sighed deeply. 
 
 " 70U are right.' Friends should render one 
 another th,s service of love too,' I replied. 
 Since It must be done, no bungler shall 
 mutilate the body of my royal friend ' 
 
 " She again sank into a dreamy reverie; and 
 when I asked the subject of her thoughts, she 
 murmured : < Oh, do not disturb me ' I see 
 so many beautiful things. I hear loving words 
 too. Oh Andromachus, it is not hard -o die 
 when we love ! ' ' 
 
 " I ordered the waiting-women in the r-« 
 room to prepare a warm bath, drew my box 
 of instruments from my toga, opened it, and 
 selected a very sharp one. Several of the 
 maids shrieked at the sight of the glittering 
 kmfe. Octavia looked around her with an 
 expression of great annoyance; and I motioned 
 to the soldier on guard, who took the girls 
 away. » 
 
 Meroe shall stay,' said Octavia ; * give me 
 your hand, my good girl.' 
 
 " ' Oh, let me go too ! ' Meroe entreated, 
 
 352 
 
Lvia 
 
 e saw me, and a 
 I over her worn 
 
 »' she said ; * I 
 
 y' 
 
 3uJd render one 
 oo,' I replied. 
 
 bungler shall 
 
 friend.' 
 
 ly reverie ; and 
 f thoughts, she 
 fb me ! I see 
 ir loving words 
 ot hard lo die, 
 
 in in the next 
 
 drew my box 
 
 )pened it, and 
 
 everal of the 
 
 the glittering 
 
 her with an 
 
 nd I motioned 
 
 ook the girls 
 
 ^la. ; ' give me 
 
 roe entreated, 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 sighing. ' I cannot see it, Mistress, I cannot 
 see blood — ' 
 
 " * Do you wish to forsake your mistress in 
 this hour ? ' answered Octavia, reproachfully ; 
 and the slave-girl sat down again, groaning 
 and averting her face, beside her mistress. 
 
 " ' Is the bath ready ? ' I asked to divert my 
 wandering thoughts. The soldier on duty 
 answered that it was, and I said to Octavia : 
 
 "'Shall I begin?' 
 
 "'Only one word more,' she whispered, 
 shaken by a sudden chill that affected my 
 nerves also, ' have you any news of him ? ' 
 
 " ' Of Metellus ? ' I asked. 
 
 " ' Yes,' she replied. 
 
 " I shook my head. 
 
 "' If you love me, Andromachus,' she whis- 
 pered, pressing my hand to her lips, ' if you 
 wish to sweeten the tortures of my last hour, 
 promise to find the boy, to provide for his 
 future. Oh, Andromachus! I loved him 
 deeply ! ' She gave free course to her tears 
 a moment, but forced them back again as 
 quickly as they had come. I promised to 
 fulfil her wishes, and she pressed my hand 
 gently. 
 
 " ' That is kind,' she gasped, uttering the 
 words with difficulty ; 'I — am — ready — ' 
 ^^ 353 
 
-^f-mm^si: 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 " Then she again asked for Plato, read the 
 speech which Socrates addressed to his judges 
 after h,s sentence, laid the book aside, and 
 again said : ' I am ready.' 
 
 "She held out her beautiful arms to me 
 as she spoke ; I clasped her right hand, tak- 
 ing the instrument from the table ; and now 
 here was such a roaring in my ears, and I 
 trembled so violently, that I was obliged to 
 make a vehement effort to calm myself. I 
 think I stammered something about painless- 
 ness or gave some other consolation which 
 I did not believe. We physicians must always 
 have comfort at hand, like sea-captains in a 
 storm. Meroe rose, clutching her mistress's 
 
 facr^""' "°'' ^^^ S'°^"^^' half averting her 
 
 "'Is this the only consolation you have for 
 me, Meroe? ' asked the Empress, in a hollow 
 tone which sent a thrill of horror through 
 me. Her face was colorless. 
 
 " ' Oh, don't scream, Mistress,' wailed the 
 fool of a ^ slave M can't bear it ; oh, don't 
 scream — Whereupon her mistress made a 
 gesture of the hand which probably meant • 
 eave me ! I was forced to touch the skin 
 thrice with the knife before 1 could bring my- 
 
 354 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 self to cut the beautiful blue veins; the third 
 time Octavia shook her head disapprovingly, 
 exclaiming : ' It will not hurt, Ptetus ! ' 
 
 " Then, bursting into tears, I cut despair- 
 ingly ; but the blood would not flow, it had 
 probably gone back toward the centre of the 
 body; for fear contracts the blood-vessels. 
 Her heart was beating as if she was in the 
 most terrible fever. Scarcely had the incision 
 been made, when foolish Meroe shrieked and 
 ran away. My knees trembled; I saw nothing 
 more; but the Empress tried to speak, smiling 
 pleasantly, as if she wished to say : ' You are 
 innocent of it.' 1 cut again, deeper. At last, 
 with much difficulty, she uttered the words: 
 * Bath — the warm bath.' 
 
 " I called her women, not one of whom had 
 the courage to come ; though they screamed as 
 if they, not she, were to die; so I was obliged 
 to carry the half unconscious woman into the 
 adjoining room. 1 tried to induce her to un- 
 dress ; but she refused, her pale cheeks flushing 
 crimson for a moment. The warm water, as 
 soon as she was placed in it, grew scarlet — but 
 let me stop — this is enough. I held her 
 hands, shaking them under the water that the 
 blood might flow faster ; and she smiled, and 
 nodded gratefully as long as she had strength 
 
 355 
 
■^mm 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 to do so ; the smile on her features grew more 
 expressionless, her eyes became glassy, her 
 head drooped over the edge of the tub till her 
 beautiful hair touched the floor, and her chaste 
 bosom no longer moved. I was obliged to 
 release my hand by force from her cold, cling- 
 mg fingers." 
 
 Burrus had covered his face with his mantle 
 before Andromachus finished speaking. An- 
 dromachus would not disturb his friend's grief, 
 and withdrew, regretting in his troubled soul 
 that he had allowed himself to describe Octa- 
 via's death-agony so minutely to a man who 
 cherished her image so tenderly in his heart. 
 He glanced back once, and saw the Praetorian 
 commander still standing motionless; the 
 leaves were whirling around him through the 
 darkness, and the moon cast a fleeting ray upon 
 the muffled face, clearly revealing the folds of 
 the mantle. 
 
 Later, when Burrus, after pacing to and fro 
 in the gardens a long time, approached the 
 palace, a lank, long-haired figure stepped from 
 the shadow of a pine, and he recognized the 
 poet whom Seneca patronized. The figure 
 wiped its eyes with its ragged toga, appar- 
 ently scarcely able to endure its burden of 
 sorrow. 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 "Oh, the noble-hearted Empress!" wailed 
 the long-haired author, " that she must die so 
 young ! What a lofty nature she possessed, 
 and what a generous patroness of Art she was ! 
 Alas ! You know how attentively she listened 
 to my drama, and then ordered wine to be set 
 before me." 
 
 Burrus, walking on, made a contemptuous 
 gesture of the hand ; but the fellow followed 
 like his shadow, constantly pouring forth ful- 
 some praises. 
 
 " Art will go to ruin, now that she is no 
 more," he lamented ; " bread and wine will no 
 longer be given to the poets ; they will suffer 
 cold and hunger, and be tossed in soldiers' 
 blankets in the streets. Oh, how they will 
 suffer from hunger ! " 
 
 Burrus, who had reached the palace, was 
 about to enter, when the dramatist made a last 
 effort to attain his purpose. 
 
 " I have composed a paean to the noble 
 Octavia," he said, seizing the soldier's cloak. 
 " See," he unrolled the papyrus, " I wrote 
 two hundred and twenty-three iambics by the 
 dim oil lamp in my attic room, with no food 
 except an onion. The people say she was un- 
 faithful to her husband ; I have sung her chas- 
 tity in my verses." 
 
 357 
 
\t: 
 
 III 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 Burrus was tempted to deal the intrusive 
 teJlow a blow on his starving mouth, but 
 controlled his anger. 
 
 " The dead need poets less than the living " 
 he said ; " take this and begone." He gave him 
 a denarius as he spoke, which the poet hastily 
 pocketed, retiring with many bows. 
 
 roll' ^"^ ""^ ^''^"'" ^^ ''^^^^'^' holding up the 
 
 "It can be arranged to suit some other 
 death, answered the soldier. « You can put 
 It on the funeral pyre of the famous poisoner, 
 Locusta." ^ 
 
 As Burrus entered the palace, the wailing of 
 the women guided him to the room where 
 Octavia's body had lain. When, hurrying 
 through the ante-room, he reached the cham- 
 ber, he found Meroe prostrate beside an 
 empty bier. He turned inquiringly to an- 
 other maid : « The corpse has been removed," 
 was her reply. The articles scattered about — 
 mirrors, wreaths, garments, — lighted by a dim 
 oil lamp, gave the impression that the occu- 
 pant of the apartment had just gone away on a 
 journey ; the bier alone indicated its goal. The 
 lamp sent circling wreaths of smoke toward 
 the ceiling, and its feeble rays were reflected 
 trom the blood-stained water of a tub The 
 
 3S8 
 
Lvia 
 
 al the intrusive 
 ig mouth, but 
 
 ban the living," 
 
 He gave him 
 
 he poet hastily 
 
 )WS. 
 
 lolding up the 
 
 it some other 
 " You can put 
 mous poisoner, 
 
 the wailing of 
 ; room where 
 hen, hurrying 
 fled the cham- 
 ite beside an 
 ringly to an- 
 ;en removed," 
 2red about, — 
 hted by a dim 
 lat the occu- 
 )ne away on a 
 tsgoal. The 
 moke toward 
 vere reflected 
 a tub. The 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 floor was soiled, and showed the wet prints of 
 bare feet. 
 
 Burrus went out and met in the- adjoining 
 room one of Octavia's women. A young 
 palace servant was patting her chin. 
 
 " You never took any notice of me before," 
 whispered the girl. 
 
 " What ? She gave you this bracelet," said 
 the fellow, tenderly; "give it to me, and you 
 will find no lover more faithful than your 
 Fabius." 
 
 "Go! She is scarcely dead, and you are 
 talking in this way," pouted the maid. 
 
 " What of that ! Dead is dead," cried the 
 lad, laughing, and snatched the bracelet, kissing 
 and embracing her, while she, after a short 
 struggle, submitted. 
 
 359 
 
CHAPTER Xlir 
 
 N^almf T ""' /"■S''™y ^""- Rome, 
 -^ ■« a vrila whose wh te walls -M.^a a 
 
 «ew acres the moonlit surface nffK ' 
 
 to the swelling hills on th? r""" 
 
 % close to thf edg o the :u^''Tj! ^^°? 
 was already 6r advfnced ; no\oL InT^K 
 m parties floated on the wa^T o w::" 
 crests, scarcely rippled hv, tU. ■ °",*''ose 
 the moon sho' e 'rad a„tl/ A ."'^^/-''T/''' 
 pathway streamed from""[he \-^\^''^ 
 
 vitdart:::a:Vft^^-;f'''^'^-'-^' 
 
 and Lucrer:e:: 'si tint Br RuV'"'"' 
 whom Nero had bestowed it, looked 1'' °" 
 and paid little or no attent o„ to .'^ •?!'' 
 t.mid tokens of affection To her " "'f' 
 concerning the subierr „> k l 1"*"'°" 
 made no ^ply.^t ht "X^t^^ 
 of her to whom he owed \^. thinkmg 
 
 happiness! Did the th?. ,. ^""'''"'' ""'' 
 who had glided to the I"*"'' ""^ ^""^^^ 
 with the vilf 1/° tn i"T'; "r-'"P 
 li^ed, disturb himrn" " ''" ''''"''' «'" 
 
 • ""d he perceived the 
 360 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 11 
 
 ay from Rome, 
 'alls afFordcd a 
 e of the water 
 opposite shore, 
 ^^- The night 
 3ats filled with 
 ^es, on whose 
 night-breeze, 
 broad golden 
 'ght disk of 
 water to the 
 which Rufus 
 It Rufus, on 
 >ked gloomy, 
 to his wife's 
 her question 
 thoughts, he 
 ips thinking 
 randeur and 
 - the woman 
 f's wine-cup 
 hand, still 
 :rceived the 
 
 worthlessness of the worldly greatness for 
 which he had so long labored ? Was he re- 
 calling the words of the street-astrologer whom 
 he had once consulted concerning his future 
 and who had said : " Beware of woman ! " 
 Who could tell? Only it was evident that 
 the wealth which surrounded him, the high 
 position he occupied, had made him neither 
 more cheerful nor more affable. He had no 
 appreciation of the witchery of the moonlit 
 night, but gazed into the blue dusk as if it 
 were a prison; every gust of wind startled 
 him like the clanking of chains, every dash 
 of the waves like the voices of traitors. 
 
 Lucretia, with her head resting on his breast, 
 gave herself up to her doubtful happiness, the 
 happiness of being the object of this stern, 
 gloomy man's love. She was thinkmg of her 
 parents, who lived in Rome, by whose com- 
 mand she had given her hand to her pre- 
 server. Gratitude bound her t:- this heart, 
 but even this gratitude had gradually yielded 
 to a sense of fear. She had no will in his 
 presence; she was a tremulous breath which 
 his lips could shape according to his will. 
 So she flattered him, served him, was subject 
 to him more from a timH. sense of duty than 
 from gratitude. Since the hour that she lay 
 
 361 
 
1 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 acter had been crushed, the horror of that 
 time st,ll we,ghed upon her heart. When 
 Rufus v,s.ted her i., her illness, he made a 
 favorable impression upon her, his resolute 
 na ure awed her and she dared not oppose 
 her parents wishes. But, since the Jew had 
 become one of the Emperor's favorites, she 
 no longer understood him. 
 
 Gazing out into the blue rad^nce of the 
 moonlight she ventured to sing a. song under 
 her breath. Rufus asked harshly Ihat i[ 
 meant, and she stopped,—- 
 
 ;; I will light a lamp," she said timidly. 
 Why.? The moon shines brightly enough," 
 he answered Lucretia suppressed a yawn ; and 
 he asked whether she always felt sleepy in his 
 society, and when her eyes filled with tears, he 
 looked at her so sternly that she forced them 
 back in alarm. Her fear seemed to touch his 
 heart Kissing her, he said: "Do not be 
 angry with me, Lucretia ! You know I do 
 not mean what I say." The words had their 
 effect upon her timid nature, and she embraced 
 him with her white arms, while, for a time, he 
 condescended to treat her tenderly. 
 
 " Oh, how beautiful the night is at your 
 side. she whispered, almost believing that 
 
 362 
 
via 
 
 mness of char- 
 horror of that 
 heart. When 
 !ss, he made a 
 1", his resolute 
 ed not oppose 
 e the Jew had 
 favorites, she 
 
 id':ince of the 
 ; a. song under 
 rshly what it 
 
 timidly. 
 jhtJy enough," 
 d a yawn ; and 
 
 sleepy in his 
 with tears, he 
 : forced them 
 i to touch his 
 'Do not be 
 
 know I do 
 rds had their 
 5he embraced 
 or a time, he 
 ly. 
 
 • is at your 
 ilieving that 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 she loved the gloomy ma And for a 
 
 moment he really felt sincere aevotion. 
 
 Suddenly the distant rattle of arms inter- 
 rupted the stillness ; the red glare of torches 
 crimsoned the foliage in the garden ; and Rufus 
 started up in dread. 
 
 " What is the matter ? Why do you turn 
 pale ? " cried Lucretia, anxiously. " Are you 
 ill ? " 
 
 " Hush," he answered, " some one is com- 
 ing." 
 
 A slave came out on the terrace and said : 
 " Armed men have entered the garden, and 
 wish to see the owner of the villa." 
 
 Rufus's knees trembled, but he controlled 
 himself and said : " Bring them to me." 
 
 " You are seriously ill, dearest," cried Lu- 
 cretia, embracing his shaking knees, as he sank 
 down exhausted. 
 
 " Nonsense," he muttered, pushing her 
 caressing hand rudely away. The soldiers 
 entered, casting the red glare of their torches 
 on the floor. 
 
 " What do you want of me ? " asked Rufus, 
 controlling himself by a powerful effort. 
 
 " You have a young man named Metellus 
 in your villa ? " said the leader of the band. 
 "Am I right?" 
 
 363 
 
^ 
 
 
 IMAGE EVALUATION 
 TEST TARGET (MT-3) 
 
 // 
 
 ,*- 
 
 
 {^/ /'^ 
 
 
 1.0 
 
 I.I 
 
 ■-lis 
 
 |50 "1"^^ 
 
 11:25 ■ 1.4 
 
 1= 
 1.6 
 
 V 
 
 <^ 
 
 /J 
 
 
 m__x 
 
 Sciences 
 Corporation 
 
 23 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 
 
 (716) 872-4503 
 
 iV 
 
 '^ 
 
 
 \ 
 
 :\ 
 
 
 ;\ 
 
 ^^^ 
 
 >^ 
 
 n% f^i7 
 
.V 
 
 
 
 C/a 
 
11:' 
 
 in 
 
 ill 
 
 nu 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 relilf *""'■' ''P"''' """'"'■ -"> - -gh of 
 
 "Well this, allow is -you could not know 
 u-a .ra tor to the state; we are sent, by the 
 tmperor s orders, to ki/l him." 
 
 r F^ be it from me to shield a traitor " ev 
 
 do7otlt-"^°"'''"'''^^'"^^°~^ 
 
 Where'TTh^' ''"" T l''"™'' °''"'= ^^^^^ 
 bTno;theL:."^""''°'^^''''''^"-''"^he 
 
 fh." °''''" °"' °f "'^ ''"^^ '° ^how you to 
 
 thirrc;."""''""'^'^^-^--''-'^''-" 
 
 " Very well." 
 
 The soldiers withdrew, pressing their weao 
 ons to the,r breasts to prevent thdr clanS; 
 Rufus gazed into vacancy, pondering. ^ 
 Poppa^a Sabma would thank me ifl saved 
 h.m, he murmured ; " shall I send old Cato 
 up quick y ? If he should anticipate the lictorl 
 the youth might escape yet." ^ '"' ""o", 
 
 "What work have they i„ hand?" asked 
 Lncrefa, ,n alarm. "Does it concern the 
 young man whom you received into the v lla 
 when he begged for protection ' " 
 
 Rufus, as if urged by some noble impulse 
 went to the entrant of the villa, stood '^here' 
 
 364 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 irresolute, stepped forward, and then came 
 slowly back as his eyes chanced to fall upon 
 the white marble bust of Nero, which stood 
 beside the entrance. 
 
 " I am a friend of the Emperor," he mut- 
 tered in a hollow tone, listening to hear whether 
 the Praeto.ians had commenced their work or 
 even completed it. 
 
 While this scene was taking place in the 
 low-r part of the house, Metellus was sitting 
 on the flat vine-covered roof at a table, busily 
 engaged in reading. Stephanus lay asleep 
 beside his chair ; the reed-flute on which he had 
 been playing still rested between his half-parted 
 lips. 
 
 " How refreshing is this stillness, this peace," 
 murmured the youth, "after the days of excite- 
 ment ! " He let his head droop dreamily and 
 closed his eyes. The cool breeze, blowinrr 
 from the moonlit water, played with his hair^ 
 and bore with the perfume of the flowers bloom- 
 ing on the distant hills visions of half-forgotten 
 days. His passion had been partially crowded 
 out of his heart during the terror of the flight ; 
 the love of life, so powerful at his age, had 
 awakened in him ; and though he confessed 
 with shame that the love of the noble woman 
 had far surpassed his in strength and endurance, 
 
 365 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 he felt calmer and more content. Charming 
 -Pturous as his love might seem to a t^m ? 
 on sparnt was rather a ..eet natural impuS 
 iLfl: ^'"'y "ucceeded in throwing off 
 
 ve oT ^"°" l^ ""^y '"'^'^^ Ws flesh'a^J 
 
 carere „:::" p"°l '' r:-^'^ -"^ W™ fo; this 
 carelessness. Perhaps hrs affection for Steoh- 
 anus^had always been much more tender ttn 
 
 " Oh, you must learn whether she still 
 
 '■ves a vo,ce in his dream whispered « and 
 whe e, y„„ ^^„ ^^^^ ^^^_ g^ J ed and 
 
 What sweetness Hpq i'« fk^ ■ ^ ^ '-ah . 
 
 being loved even th^ K ~nsc,ousness of 
 love is fir ; ^^'' ""= "y^" "'■ fhat 
 
 own, yl r-'u T "^^" '^"o-eyour 
 "wn ■ ret u would have b- better h,A 
 
 you contented yourself with fnendsh pi and 
 "ever earned to know the glowing lift 
 consu„ goddess. Oh, how sleet f is t 
 re« m thearms of friendship; how treache ou ° 
 how mysterious is the power of love < " ' 
 
 denlv tt' '^'''"T'yi^, ^'^ thoughts ; and sud- 
 denly ,t seemed as ,f the light of the lamn 
 
 b uer a mist rose from it, the air above the 
 
 blue flame expanded and formed into a Ilitter 
 
 ■ng frame, and in this fr-me- was it if 
 
 or reality — he started ,m k ""°" 
 
 y ne started up, sighing, and gazed 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 sleepily around, suddenly overpowered by a 
 vague sense of fear. 
 
 " Stephanus," he cried, panting for breath 
 "Stephanas — " 
 
 "Master—" stammered the bov, rubbing 
 his eyes. 
 
 " Did you see nothing ? " asked Metellus, 
 trembhng, his eyes rolling feverishly. 
 
 "I saw in my dreams a white horse with 
 wmgs," replied the boy; "it was riving toward 
 the sky— it sounded sweet — oh,' dear, now 
 it is gone ! " 
 
 " No ! I mea.i — did not you see — a 
 woman — " 
 
 " A woman — " 
 
 " Here above the flame ; her eyes were so 
 dull, so glassy — her veins were cut at the 
 wrists — blood was flowing over her whole 
 body — " 
 
 " Oh, master, you are dreaming, you are 
 ravmg — " 
 
 "Alas, Stephanus! She is dead ! I know 
 It — " he stammered mournfully, and, bursting 
 into tears, clasped the boy to his heart. 
 
 " Oh, do not weep ! " said the lad, compas- 
 sionate y; « I will play for you, master, then 
 you will be happy again." 
 
 "She is dead and I live," fell sighing 
 
 367 
 
II 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 from the lips pressed upon Stephanus's 
 
 " Do not weep ; show me the star that 
 sh,„es upon Greece." urged the slave, pat ring 
 h. master's cheek; "why do you make you"! 
 se unhappy P Jo. promised' to take I^TL 
 
 If „ ™' '" "' "^« •' At once ! " 
 Metellus made no answer, but weot Ion., 
 
 and with h,s lower lip still quivering convul- 
 sively, stroked the boy's curls. 
 
 fellow """'iT' T '" "°"''"S," said the little 
 stairs '■' "" ''''P' ""'* ™'«^ °" *e 
 
 said MetelT "'^- °"'y ™'»''°" now. Stephanus," 
 a.d Metellus, m a broken voice; "be good 
 and love me, will you > " ^ 
 
 clast ofTm ""' ''""'' " ^"^"'=^' "hen che 
 clash of arms mterrupted him. Directly after 
 a helmet appeared beneath the curtain at he 
 
 a P^paleX:^^ ^""^^^"^ ™-' ^^^^ 
 " Is It you, Rufus ? " cried Mpf^H.^o • • 
 
 the iamp. wbose dim lig^t^rtpS 
 him to recognize the soldier. ^ 
 
 uDon th™"''? P',""'' ' """''•'°" "ePPed out 
 
 Z -T!' '''"'''' ■•'^^P^'fully. and said to 
 the astonished youth, 
 
 368 
 
-avia 
 
 pon Stephanus's 
 
 ne the star that 
 the slave, patting 
 
 > you make your- 
 :d to take me to 
 At once ! " 
 
 > but wept long 
 ■ wiped his eyes 
 juivering convul- 
 Is. 
 
 ?>" said the little 
 d voices on the 
 
 'ow, Stephanus," 
 3ice ; « be good 
 
 iswer, when che 
 
 Directly after 
 
 e curtain at the 
 
 metal frowned 
 
 fetellus, seizing 
 uld not permit 
 
 on stepped out 
 lly, and said to 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 " I come from Rome," then moving nearer, 
 and covering his mouth with his hand, he 
 whispered : " Octavia sends me to you ! " 
 
 " Octavia ? " cried Metellus, in joyful sur- 
 prise, " then she is still alive ? " 
 
 " She is still alive," replied the soldier, bow- 
 ing his iiead. 
 
 " So the vision in my dream deceived me ! 
 But speak ! What have you to tell me from 
 her, quick ! " said the excited artist. 
 
 " It is he," muttered the Praetorian under 
 his breath, and then continued, — 
 
 " She is not only living, but near you !" 
 
 " Near me ! Oh, ye gods ! " 
 
 " I was commanded to conduct you to her 
 secretly." 
 
 "Then she is making her escape? " 
 
 " As you say, making her escape ! " 
 
 The soldier, declining to answer any further 
 questions, invited the unsuspicious sculptor 
 to accompany him, the rest would be ex- 
 plained as soon as they reached the other 
 shore of the Gulf; he had strict orders to 
 keep silence. 
 
 "Don't go without me, master," pleaded 
 
 Stephanus; but Metellus did not hear, he was 
 
 rushing, as if in a delirious frenzy, down the 
 
 steps into the garden. She is still alive, was 
 
 24 369 
 
V 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 his sole thought, which floated Jike . ^• 
 divinity before his soul. '^^^^"^ 
 
 "Vou must know Im-A " -j i 
 when both stepped out int th '\'°^'^'"' 
 "you must k„o. that Oct °v,^l """"t "''^'"' 
 ^ite shore of the Gulf TZ u" ""r "PP"" 
 
 den among the h„l . ''°^' "" hid- 
 
 .,, '""6 'le bushes yonder .m »],. i, i . 
 
 w.il row you across as fal 1" '''.t^^'": ' 
 cannot stay after sunrise " P™"''''- ^™ 
 
 abs':r'^:Ln''h!fow7tt'' .''"^"-' -''""x 
 the centurion's side ^""K^t', walking on at 
 
 'hey went to th hore" , T'' T'^' ''°" 
 ened the boat, or th t : „ LV art?"'"'" 
 emerging from the bushe ,n. "'"' 
 
 ^kiff as it pushed offThenS"V"'°K*' 
 wounded at this moment with'' tn ■ '"'" 
 
 his mind seemed dazed bvth. P'''!^"""g "! 
 the meeting. ^ ""^ """c.pation of 
 
 " Everything is going well ruli,,. >• -j . 
 second solHlpi- i,. u- ' J"""', said the 
 
 -centupJS'"VP-^i.ashegave 
 
 othe?.w'::i:i:XX -."said the 
 
 'his cursed oar is brokTn p^h rr^' ''"' 
 
 against yonder rock th!^' "'^ """^ "f 
 
 Tu '"""''', ™cic, that we may cet afloat " 
 
 370 
 
avia 
 
 Bd like a radiant 
 
 said the soldier, 
 'e moonlit night, 
 
 18 on the oppo- 
 e boat lies hid- 
 ^n the beach; I 
 
 possible. You 
 
 steJJus, wholly 
 walking on at 
 ;Jy noticed how 
 soldier unfast- 
 f armed man, 
 ••ang into the 
 bt have been 
 perceiving it; 
 anticipation of 
 
 J'us," said the 
 ly as he gave 
 
 3. 
 
 ^e," said the 
 ucceeds; but 
 the boat off 
 ?et afloat." 
 d, replying: 
 He who is 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 world can be allowed 
 
 row," retorted the 
 
 going to the nether 
 plenty of time." 
 
 " Don't chatter, but 
 centurion. 
 
 " Chatter is the spice of all work," answered 
 his companion, grasping the oars. A silvery 
 mist veiled the moon ; a cool breeze swept over 
 the waves; the little boat, impelled by the 
 strokes, danced lightly over the glittering sur- 
 face ; not a breath, not a sound in nature gave 
 a premonition of the future ; the world lay 
 like an innocent, sleeping child. Metellus 
 gazed, shivering, at the moonlit water without 
 hearing the talk of the two men. Beyond the 
 silver wavelets, where the low hills rose, glim- 
 mered the walls of a little villa. Was that the 
 
 goal of the voyage ? 
 
 « Cannot ycu tell me in what way Octavia 
 
 escaped her foes.?" asked Metellus. 
 
 " Unfortunately, no, lord," replied the rower; 
 I was not present. But I think Androma- 
 
 chus skilfully assisted her; and, you know, 
 
 when such a leech is in attendance, people are 
 
 soon released from all suffering." 
 
 "Then you belong to 'the Empress's 
 attendants ? 
 
 "Yes, lord." 
 
 " I suppose she is spending the night in 
 
 371 
 
IF 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 could no longer control his emotion. 
 
 bhe ,s spending the night there," laughed 
 
 tnrr4?'\'."^''-^'''"-=''yZeu1 
 spending the night is good " 
 
 ;; Hush, Marcus," ordered the centurion. 
 h„u el *'" ?°°n ''« with her, lord," the 
 
 sorbed "^•'"''''''- ^"^""' ""' Win b! 
 orbed ,„ his own thoughts; his hfart was 
 
 throbbing; a sigh of happiness escaped his 
 yearning breast. ^ ^ 
 
 heart '"H ■;", "'"{ "'''' ' ™'« - his 
 aft:rTn''oXr;:ut^'"'^"''"''^^"''-»''^'J 
 
 yo::;rr;^;sf"^^^^-"j-"''- 
 
 " Perhaps to Egypt ? " 
 " Somewhat farther." 
 " To Ethiopia ? " 
 
 Metellus was already imagining the pleas- 
 ure of a journey together, when he noticed 
 
sculptor, who 
 lotion. 
 
 here," laughed 
 or ; by Zeus ! 
 
 ■ centurion. 
 »•, lord," the 
 vas again ab- 
 lis heart was 
 escaped his 
 
 voice in his 
 'h upon my 
 3ving sister! 
 e and noble 
 5nture to ap- 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 »• 
 
 he asked 
 
 'just where 
 
 ^ere sooner 
 
 the pleas- 
 he noticed 
 
 that the rower called to the centurion in a 
 low tone : " Here ? " The other muttered : 
 "Not yet! Farther!" and the man rowed 
 on. 
 
 They were now about a hundred feet from 
 the shore; the villa seemed close at hand. 
 Metellus could no longer remain seated in 
 the boat ; he rose and eagerly inhaled the cool 
 sea-breeze that fanned his brow. Just at that 
 moment a pang pierced his soul at the thought 
 that, in the bewilderment of the moment, he 
 had entirely forgotten Stephanus. Poor, for- 
 saken boy! If he left Italy with Octavia, 
 where would the lad, who had already become 
 dearer than a brother, find protection ? " Oh, 
 Stephanus, come ! " he murmured, and was 
 turning to tell the centurion that they must 
 row back to the shore again ; but to his sur- 
 prise the centurion was 'anding directly behind 
 him. 
 
 " Row — " the betrayed youth could say 
 no more ; a blow in the back robbed him 
 of speech and destroyed his balance so that 
 he only saved himself from falling over- 
 board by hastily grasping the edge of the 
 boat. 
 
 "What clumsiness!" he gasped; "take 
 care." 
 
 373 
 
I ?■; 
 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 "Take care? He thinto if 
 ■J „ . , "^ tninics It was an ac- 
 
 cident, cried the rower, laughing. "Zeus 
 help me! He is hard of hearing." 
 
 " What do you mean ? What do you want 
 ot me? stammered the deceived youth and 
 now, as they tried by force to wrench hh fin 
 
 brlin " ^°''' ' ^'^^' ^'^"'^ "P°" ^'^^ 
 
 "So that is your plan; you want to kill 
 me ? he cned, through his set teeth, strug- 
 gling desperately with the centurion, who 
 was vainly trying to force him out of the 
 boat. "^ 
 
 "I am betrayed," rang far over the calm 
 surface of the water ; « help, help ! " 
 ^ "Stop his mouth," panted the centurion; 
 neip me throw him overboard." 
 The other soldier seized the victim's feet 
 Metellus struck wHdly around him ; he saw, as' 
 If through a blood-red veil, the surface of the 
 water glimmering so calmly, so deceitfully be- 
 fore him ; the tension of his nerves was so 
 great that the shore seemed whirling before 
 him, the moon danced before his eyes ; he felt 
 the approach of the cold lonely death in the 
 still water. And the love of life awoke with 
 terrible, passionate power! Mere breathing 
 now appeared to him so sweet, all the sorrows 
 
 374 
 
Lvia 
 
 It 
 
 was an ac- 
 ghing. « Zeus 
 
 at do you want 
 ved youth, and 
 wrench his fin- 
 wned upon his 
 
 1 want to kill 
 t teeth, strug- 
 inturion, who 
 m out of the 
 
 )ver the calm 
 Ip ! " 
 
 ie centurion ; 
 >> 
 
 victim's feet, 
 n ; he saw, as 
 Jurface of the 
 eceitfuUy be- 
 rves was so 
 irling before 
 eyes ; he felt 
 death in the 
 : awoke with 
 ■e breathing 
 
 the sorrows 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 of life grew insignificant in comparison to the 
 mysterious, uncertain void of death. The 
 soldier's rude hand thrust his struggling head 
 nearer and nearer to the water. The anguish of 
 death oppressed his mind. It rested on him 
 as a falling rock crushes a butterfly. Nay, he 
 became weak, contemptible — clasping his 
 hands as well as his position would permit, he 
 begged piteously for his life, — the life which he 
 had so often despised. Nay, more ! The fear 
 of death made him base, rendered him a 
 shameless liar. 
 
 " I did not love Octavia," he wailed ; " I 
 hate her; I never wish to see her again." He 
 hesitated, the falsehood of his words pierced 
 his heart, but as if hunted by an invisible 
 power, he went on without reflection ; " put 
 me on shore, I will fly to a distant country, 
 and the Emperor shall never hear of me agam ; 
 you can tell him confidently that you have 
 accomplished your work of executioners." 
 
 The men released him, and whispered softly 
 together, while their victim, with wild eyes, 
 cowered in the bottom of the boat. 
 
 " He is a handsome fellow," said the cen- 
 turion ; " we will let him live." 
 But the other opposed him. 
 " What, do you want to let him live because 
 
 375 
 
I '1 
 
 111* 
 
 » ■ ■ * »'.l 
 
 siUtAimi 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 he is good-looking? So are nth.. 
 
 yet they must die too." "" ^'^P^^' 
 
 "Well then," replied the centurion «J will 
 take It upon mvsHf " T • " .' ^ will 
 
 ing figure n.nT r . "'"^ ^° ^^^ ^"eel- 
 "g figure, panting for breath, he said,— 
 
 shorf "Tr° ''' "''" ^"^ ^^^ '^ --h the 
 i>nore. L-an you swim ? " 
 
 ;; Yes," murmured the exhausted youth 
 "Then sol" cried rh« ^^ youtn. 
 
 him with hi foot '°"'"'' ^P"™'"g 
 
 ^^JJhat do you say? -asked the bewildered 
 
 ,^j X ,1,- rM-is-:; 
 
 Metellus uttered a sigh of relief. 
 
 swu.^\fr:f:,vL:ttee%o^%rer'''- 
 
 the water, which dashed up;a.dtou„°d'h"'° 
 wdrers, — the white neck nf a i,„ir i 
 
 ttc --^ - ^-i":o -: 
 
 " He will not reach it," said Marcus. 
 
 376 
 
avia 
 
 re other people, 
 
 enturion, " I will 
 »g to the kneel- 
 he said, — . 
 try to reach the 
 
 isted youth. 
 >idier, spurning 
 
 • the bewildered 
 
 '/' replied the 
 ircus, he added 
 
 will escape us ; 
 
 ef. 
 
 gasped, then 
 the boat into 
 around him, 
 waves, while 
 ■y gazed long 
 lid the black 
 alf* mad man 
 igth to gain 
 
 arcus. 
 
 Empress Octavia 
 
 " He is strong," replied the other ; " he 
 will." 
 
 The wind had risen. The waves dashed 
 higher ; they rowed on behind the swimmer, 
 and suddenly saw him turn. " Help me ! " 
 came faintly from his lips. 
 
 " Only keep on," shouted the centurion, 
 " a few more strokes, an you will reach the 
 shore." 
 
 Metellus's strength had failed ; he felt a re- 
 laxation of the nerves, against which it was 
 impossible to struggle. The terror of death 
 had affected his muscles too powerfully. The 
 chill of the water was robbing him of breath. 
 To divert his thoughts, he counted from one 
 to one hundred, and often murmured : "Steph- 
 anus, help me ! " or, " Octavia, where are 
 you ? " With his eyes fixed intently upon a 
 dark clump of bushes on the shore, he strained 
 his arms to the utmost ; but the outer world 
 was already vanishing. He began to swallow 
 the water. Then it seemed as though a voice 
 was droning incessantly in his ear : " I will 
 not die ! " but another voice, with an icy laugh, 
 responded : " You must." 
 
 Slower and slower grew the swimmer's move- 
 ments, more and more languid, again a half- 
 stifled : " Help me ! " floated over the waves, 
 
 377 
 
Empress Octavia 
 
 then the white form sank. The nect »!, 
 w.th a greenish glim„,er through "he fltd' 
 
 moonlight. '^^^> ^'^^"ing 
 
 THE END 
 
 1 1 ' 
 
 378 
 
 ^kdimt 
 
 BHfi 
 
 PVI 
 
 ^^^^n 
 
 li 
 
Lvia 
 
 "he neck shone 
 ugh the flood; 
 few bubbles of 
 ^ater rippled as 
 bright, shining