Chapter XI
PROGRESS OF EVENTS. THE PLOT THICKENS. THE WEB IS WOVEN, BUT THE NET
CHANGES HANDS.
'AND you have the courage then, Julia, to seek the Witch of Vesuvius this
evening; in company, too, with that fearful man?'
'Why, Nydia?' replied Julia, timidly; 'dost thou really think there is
anything to dread? These old hags, with their enchanted mirrors, their
trembling sieves, and their moon-gathered herbs, are, I imagine, but crafty
impostors, who have learned, perhaps, nothing but the very charm for which I
apply to their skill, and which is drawn but from the knowledge of the
field's herbs and simples. Wherefore should I dread?'
'Dost thou not fear thy companion?'
'What, Arbaces? By Dian, I never saw lover more courteous than that same
magician! And were he not so dark, he would be even handsome.'
Blind as she was, Nydia had the penetration to perceive that Julia's mind
was not one that the gallantries of Arbaces were likely to terrify. She
therefore dissuaded her no more: but nursed in her excited heart the wild
and increasing desire to know if sorcery had indeed a spell to fascinate
love to love.
'Let me go with thee, noble Julia,' said she at length; 'my presence is no
protection, but I should like to be beside thee to the last.'
'Thine offer pleases me much,' replied the daughter of Diomed. 'Yet how
canst thou contrive it? we may not return until late, they will miss thee.'
'Ione is indulgent,' replied Nydia. 'If thou wilt permit me to sleep
beneath thy roof, I will say that thou, an early patroness and friend, hast
invited me to pass the day with thee, and sing thee my Thessalian songs; her
courtesy will readily grant to thee so light a boon.'
'Nay, ask for thyself!' said the haughty Julia. 'I stoop to request no
favor from the Neapolitan!'
'Well, be it so. I will take my leave now; make my request, which I know
will be readily granted, and return shortly.'
'Do so; and thy bed shall be prepared in my own chamber.' With that, Nydia
left the fair Pompeian.
On her way back to Ione she was met by the chariot of Glaucus, on whose
fiery and curveting steeds was riveted the gaze of the crowded street.
He kindly stopped for a moment to speak to the flower-girl.
'Blooming as thine own roses, my gentle Nydia! and how is thy fair
mistress?--recovered, I trust, from the effects of the storm?'
'I have not seen her this morning,' answered Nydia, 'but...'
'But what? draw back--the horses are too near thee.'
'But think you Ione will permit me to pass the day with Julia, the daughter
of Diomed?--She wishes it, and was kind to me when I had few friends.'
'The gods bless thy grateful heart! I will answer for Ione's permission.'
'Then I may stay over the night, and return to-morrow?' said Nydia,
shrinking from the praise she so little merited.
'As thou and fair Julia please. Commend me to her; and hark ye, Nydia, when
thou hearest her speak, note the contrast of her voice with that of the
silver-toned Ione. Vale!'
His spirits entirely recovered from the effect of the past night, his locks
waving in the wind, his joyous and elastic heart bounding with every spring
of his Parthian steeds, a very prototype of his country's god, full of youth
and of love--Glaucus was borne rapidly to his mistress.
Enjoy while ye may the present--who can read the future?
As the evening darkened, Julia, reclined within her litter, which was
capacious enough also to admit her blind companion, took her way to the
rural baths indicated by Arbaces. To her natural levity of disposition, her
enterprise brought less of terror than of pleasurable excitement; above all,
she glowed at the thought of her coming triumph over the hated Neapolitan.
A small but gay group was collected round the door of the villa, as her
litter passed by it to the private entrance of the baths appropriated to the
women.
'Methinks, by this dim light,' said one of the bystanders, 'I recognize the
slaves of Diomed.'
'True, Clodius,' said Sallust: 'it is probably the litter of his daughter
Julia. She is rich, my friend; why dost thou not proffer thy suit to her?'
'Why, I had once hoped that Glaucus would have married her. She does not
disguise her attachment; and then, as he gambles freely and with
ill-success...'
'The sesterces would have passed to thee, wise Clodius. A wife is a good
thing--when it belongs to another man!'
'But,' continued Clodius, 'as Glaucus is, I understand, to wed the
Neapolitan, I think I must even try my chance with the dejected maid. After
all, the lamp of Hymen will be gilt, and the vessel will reconcile one to
the odor of the flame. I shall only protest, my Sallust, against Diomed's
making thee trustee to his daughter's fortune.'
'Ha! ha! let us within, my comissator; the wine and the garlands wait us.'
Dismissing her slaves to that part of the house set apart for their
entertainment, Julia entered the baths with Nydia, and declining the offers
of the attendants, passed by a private door into the garden behind.
'She comes by appointment, be sure,' said one of the slaves.
'What is that to thee?' said a superintendent, sourly; 'she pays for the
baths, and does not waste the saffron. Such appointments are the best part
of the trade. Hark! do you not hear the widow Fulvia clapping her hands?
Run, fool--run!'
Julia and Nydia, avoiding the more public part of the garden, arrived at the
place specified by the Egyptian. In a small circular plot of grass the
stars gleamed upon the statue of Silenus--the merry god reclined upon a
fragment of rock--the lynx of Bacchus at his feet--and over his mouth he
held, with extended arm, a bunch of grapes, which he seemingly laughed to
welcome ere he devoured.
'I see not the magician,' said Julia, looking round: when, as she spoke, the
Egyptian slowly emerged from the neighboring foliage, and the light fell
palely over his sweeping robes.
'Salve, sweet maiden!--But ha! whom hast thou here? we must have no
companions!'
'It is but the blind flower-girl, wise magician,' replied Julia: 'herself a
Thessalian.'
'Oh! Nydia!' said the Egyptian. 'I know her well.'
Nydia drew back and shuddered.
'Thou hast been at my house, methinks!' said he, approaching his voice to
Nydia's ear; 'thou knowest the oath!--Silence and secrecy, now as then, or
beware!'
'Yet,' he added, musingly to himself, 'why confide more than is necessary,
even in the blind--Julia, canst thou trust thyself alone with me? Believe
me, the magician is less formidable than he seems.'
As he spoke, he gently drew Julia aside.
'The witch loves not many visitors at once,' said he: 'leave Nydia here till
your return; she can be of no assistance to us: and, for protection--your
own beauty suffices--your own beauty and your own rank; yes, Julia, I know
thy name and birth. Come, trust thyself with me, fair rival of the youngest
of the Naiads!'
The vain Julia was not, as we have seen, easily affrighted; she was moved by
the flattery of Arbaces, and she readily consented to suffer Nydia to await
her return; nor did Nydia press her presence. At the sound of the
Egyptian's voice all her terror of him returned: she felt a sentiment of
pleasure at learning she was not to travel in his companionship.
She returned to the Bath-house, and in one of the private chambers waited
their return. Many and bitter were the thoughts of this wild girl as she
sat there in her eternal darkness. She thought of her own desolate fate,
far from her native land, far from the bland cares that once assuaged the
April sorrows of childhood--deprived of the light of day, with none but
strangers to guide her steps, accursed by the one soft feeling of her heart,
loving and without hope, save the dim and unholy ray which shot across her
mind, as her Thessalian fancies questioned of the force of spells and the
gifts of magic.
Nature had sown in the heart of this poor girl the seeds of virtue never
destined to ripen. The lessons of adversity are not always
salutary--sometimes they soften and amend, but as often they indurate and
pervert. If we consider ourselves more harshly treated by fate than those
around us, and do not acknowledge in our own deeds the justice of the
severity, we become too apt to deem the world our enemy, to case ourselves
in defiance, to wrestle against our softer self, and to indulge the darker
passions which are so easily fermented by the sense of injustice. Sold
early into slavery, sentenced to a sordid taskmaster, exchanging her
situation, only yet more to embitter her lot--the kindlier feelings,
naturally profuse in the breast of Nydia, were nipped and blighted. Her
sense of right and wrong was confused by a passion to which she had so madly
surrendered herself; and the same intense and tragic emotions which we read
of in the women of the classic age--a Myrrha, a Medea--and which hurried and
swept away the whole soul when once delivered to love--ruled, and rioted in,
her breast.
Time passed: a light step entered the chamber where Nydia yet indulged her
gloomy meditations.
'Oh, thanked be the immortal gods!' said Julia, 'I have returned, I have
left that terrible cavern! Come, Nydia! let us away forthwith!'
It was not till they were seated in the litter that Julia again spoke.
'Oh!' said she, tremblingly, 'such a scene! such fearful incantations! and
the dead face of the hag!--But, let us talk not of it. I have obtained the
potion--she pledges its effect. My rival shall be suddenly indifferent to
his eye, and I, I alone, the idol of Glaucus!'
'Glaucus!' exclaimed Nydia.
'Ay! I told thee, girl, at first, that it was not the Athenian whom I loved:
but I see now that I may trust thee wholly--it is the beautiful Greek!'
What then were Nydia's emotions! she had connived, she had assisted, in
tearing Glaucus from Ione; but only to transfer, by all the power of magic,
his affections yet more hopelessly to another. Her heart swelled almost to
suffocation--she gasped for breath--in the darkness of the vehicle, Julia
did not perceive the agitation of her companion; she went on rapidly
dilating on the promised effect of her acquisition, and on her approaching
triumph over Ione, every now and then abruptly digressing to the horror of
the scene she had quitted--the unmoved mien of Arbaces, and his authority
over the dreadful Saga.
Meanwhile Nydia recovered her self-possession: a thought flashed across her:
she slept in the chamber of Julia--she might possess herself of the potion.
They arrived at the house of Diomed, and descended to Julia's apartment,
where the night's repast awaited them.
'Drink, Nydia, thou must be cold, the air was chill to-night; as for me, my
veins are yet ice.'
And Julia unhesitatingly quaffed deep draughts of the spiced wine.
'Thou hast the potion,' said Nydia; 'let me hold it in my hands. How small
the phial is! of what color is the draught?'
'Clear as crystal,' replied Julia, as she retook the philtre; 'thou couldst
not tell it from this water. The witch assures me it is tasteless. Small
though the phial, it suffices for a life's fidelity: it is to be poured into
any liquid; and Glaucus will only know what he has quaffed by the effect.'
'Exactly like this water in appearance?'
'Yes, sparkling and colorless as this. How bright it seems! it is as the
very essence of moonlit dews. Bright thing! how thou shinest on my hopes
through thy crystal vase!'
'And how is it sealed?'
'But by one little stopper--I withdraw it now--the draught gives no odor.
Strange, that that which speaks to neither sense should thus command all!'
'Is the effect instantaneous?'
'Usually--but sometimes it remains dormant for a few hours.'
'Oh, how sweet is this perfume!' said Nydia, suddenly, as she took up a
small bottle on the table, and bent over its fragrant contents.
'Thinkest thou so? the bottle is set with gems of some value. Thou wouldst
not have the bracelet yestermorn--wilt thou take the bottle?'
'It ought to be such perfumes as these that should remind one who cannot see
of the generous Julia. If the bottle be not too costly...'
'Oh! I have a thousand costlier ones: take it, child!'
Nydia bowed her gratitude, and placed the bottle in her vest.
'And the draught would be equally efficacious, whoever administers it?'
'If the most hideous hag beneath the sun bestowed it, such is its asserted
virtue that Glaucus would deem her beautiful, and none but her!'
Julia, warmed by wine, and the reaction of her spirits, was now all
animation and delight; she laughed loud, and talked on a hundred
matters--nor was it till the night had advanced far towards morning that she
summoned her slaves and undressed.
When they were dismissed, she said to Nydia, 'I will not suffer this holy
draught to quit my presence till the hour comes for its use. Lie under my
pillow, bright spirit, and give me happy dreams!'
So saying, she placed the potion under her pillow. Nydia's heart beat
violently.
'Why dost thou drink that unmixed water, Nydia? Take the wine by its side.'
'I am fevered,' replied the blind girl, 'and the water cools me. I will
place this bottle by my bedside, it refreshes in these summer nights, when
the dews of sleep fall not on our lips. Fair Julia, I must leave thee very
early--so Ione bids--perhaps before thou art awake; accept, therefore, now
my congratulations.'
'Thanks: when next we meet you may find Glaucus at my feet.'
They had retired to their couches, and Julia, worn out by the excitement of
the day, soon slept. But anxious and burning thoughts rolled over the mind
of the wakeful Thessalian. She listened to the calm breathing of Julia; and
her ear, accustomed to the finest distinctions of sound, speedily assured
her of the deep slumber of her companion.
'Now befriend me, Venus!' said she, softly.
She rose gently, and poured the perfume from the gift of Julia upon the
marble floor--she rinsed it several times carefully with the water that was
beside her, and then easily finding the bed of Julia (for night to her was
as day), she pressed her trembling hand under the pillow and seized the
potion. Julia stirred not, her breath regularly fanned the burning cheek of
the blind girl. Nydia, then, opening the phial, poured its contents into
the bottle, which easily contained them; and then refilling the former
reservoir of the potion with that limpid water which Julia had assured her
it so resembled, she once more placed the phial in its former place. She
then stole again to her couch, and waited--with what thoughts!--the dawning
day.
The sun had risen--Julia slept still--Nydia noiselessly dressed herself,
placed her treasure carefully in her vest, took up her staff, and hastened
to quit the house.
The porter, Medon, saluted her kindly as she descended the steps that led to
the street: she heard him not; her mind was confused and lost in the whirl
of tumultuous thoughts, each thought a passion. She felt the pure morning
air upon her cheek, but it cooled not her scorching veins.
'Glaucus,' she murmured, 'all the love-charms of the wildest magic could not
make thee love me as I love thee. Ione!--ah; away hesitation! away remorse!
Glaucus, my fate is in thy smile; and thine! hope! O joy! O transport, thy
fate is in these hands!'
