Loe raamatut: «Neæra. A Tale of Ancient Rome», lehekülg 30

CHAPTER IV

Escaping from the throng into privacy with his recovered child, Fabricius poured out upon her all the endearments of a nature transported with joy and thankfulness. His fervent warmth, and almost childish delight, touched Neæra very deeply, but yet it was impossible for her to respond as freely. She was still the humble cottage girl, and the stranger patrician awed her somewhat. In addition to this, the rapid bewildering occurrences and disclosures of the afternoon had left her in a state of confusion. She seemed to exist in the midst of a strange dream, and her labouring thoughts were dogged by unbelief.

All perplexities vanished for the time at the sudden appearance of her lover within the room. He came, not with the haggard look and the attendant guard of a desponding prisoner, but free, alone, and smiling. With a low cry she sprang toward him and was clasped in his arms. Here, at least, was no place for doubt; and, on his breast, she peacefully wept away all the darkness and misery which had loaded her mind so grievously during the last terrible days.

‘You are sadly pale and thin,’ he murmured, as he touched her cheek caressingly, after the first moments of her emotion had passed away. ‘Have they not treated you well?’

‘Quite well.’

‘The gods be praised – it is more than I once looked for,’ he said fervently.

‘But all is well now, and you are free,’ she said, looking up into his face, and smiling through her glittering tears. ‘Shall we not go soon from this place?’

‘You, doubtless, my sweet; your duty lies with your grandsire. Does she go back to Rome with you, Fabricius?’

‘Ay truly,’ answered the old man, who was watching them with infinite satisfaction, ‘and you also.’

‘Ah, if I knew it were so!’

‘Then rest assured – it is the will of Tiberius.’

‘Then if this sweet girl’s will be in unison with Caesar’s I will not strive against my fate – I await her decree.’

‘What Caesar commands I cannot forbid, and must fain put up with,’ said she demurely.

‘Then I will go; but circumstances are altered since I last saw thee. You have been transformed from the poor potter’s girl. Once you had scruples in matching with one out of your own station. Do you still keep them? Will you now stoop to a poor Pretorian?’

‘You took great labour to remove the scruples I had then – would you now bring them back again?’ she said.

‘Yes, if I might plant them in myself for you to charm away – it would be a task I could never weary of.’

‘But I should – so let us not begin,’ she replied, with a divine smile.

‘What is all this muttering between you?’ cried Fabricius, growing impatient.

‘I am asking her if she thinks as kindly of me now that she is changed from the potter’s child into the granddaughter of Fabricius,’ replied Martialis.

‘Well, and what says she to that? Come, child, let us hear your sweet notes,’ said Fabricius; ‘he that bearded Caesar in his own hall for your sake is worthy of some reward.’

‘I have already given him all I have to give,’ she said, smiling and blushing upon her lover.

‘What in the world can better it, my sweet Neæra?’ responded Lucius with a fervent kiss.

‘Neæra no longer, but Aurelia,’ cried Fabricius.

‘Neæra she must ever be to me,’ said Lucius.

* * * * * * *

Here we will leave Martialis in his prime, with the crown of his life in the person of a beloved wife and noble offspring. One of his sons, named after himself, was a man of learning and taste, and is immortalised in the letters of his friend and namesake, the great Roman epigrammist. We cannot refrain from concluding with that epistle of the latter which relates to the mansion of old Fabricius, and we present it in a well-known translation: —

‘On the long ridge of the Janiculan Hill lie the few acres belonging to Julius Martialis; land more blessed than the gardens of the Hesperides. Secluded retreats are spread over the hills, and the smooth summit, with gentle undulations, enjoys a cloudless sky; and while a mist covers the hollow valleys, shines conspicuous in a light all its own. The graceful turrets of a lofty villa rise gently toward the stars. Hence you may see the seven hills, rulers of the world, and contemplate the whole extent of Rome, as well as the heights of Alba and Tusculum, and every cool retreat that lies in the suburbs, with old Fidenae and little Rubra, and the fruit-bearing grove of Anna Perenna, which delights in virgins’ blood. Thence may be seen the traveller on the Flaminian and Salarian roads, while his carriage is unheard, so that its wheels are no interruption to gentle sleep; neither is it broken by the cry of the boatswain or the noise of hawsers, although the Mulvian bridge is near, and ships are seen gliding swiftly along the sacred Tiber. This country box, or rather mansion, is rendered additionally agreeable by the welcome of its owner. You will imagine it to be your own; so ungrudgingly, so liberally is it thrown open to you, and with such refined hospitality… You now who think all these attractions insignificant, cultivate, with a hundred spades, cool Tibur or Praeneste, and give the slopes of Setia to one single husbandman, whilst I, for my part, prefer to all your possessions the few acres of Julius Martialis.’

THE END

SOME OPINIONS OF THE PRESS

The Edinburgh Review says: —

“‘Neæra’ is given to us as a picture of Roman life, under an Emperor as infamous as the Antonines were honourable; and the picture is, we think, carefully drawn, and in its general features trustworthy… Mr. Graham has at the least given us a story of sustained interest; which he has done well in connecting with the little island rock of Capri. On this island Tiberius has left a lasting mark, and the remains of his work bear out the old stories told about him… We may take leave of Mr. Graham’s interesting and powerful tale with a few words in which he speaks of the palaces and prisons which rose here at the despot’s command.”

The Saturday Review says: —

“An admirable novel… ‘Neæra’ is a novel with a story, and as good a story as it often falls to one’s lot to find in a new book. The interest grows somewhat gradually at first, but increases constantly as the story progresses, and is multiplied by the interweaving of new threads and the occurrence of startling incidents up to the very last pages of the concluding volume. It is plain that a careful study of the masterpieces of classical literature, and of the places to which they refer, has necessarily preceded the writing of ‘Neæra.’ One of the best scenes in the book is the final appearance of all the characters before Tiberius, who is to decide whether Neæra is or is not the long-lost granddaughter of the Senator, and whether the villain is guilty or not of the blackest crimes… The style is for the most part good. Mr. Graham writes in a careful and leisurely way, choosing good sound phrases, and occasionally introduces passages which are really eloquent and beautiful.”

The St. James’s Gazette says: —

“Mr. Graham has a keen eye for what is called on the stage a striking situation, and his situations follow each other so thick and fast that his story never flags. From the suicide of Apicius to the tremendous fight in the dining-room under the eyes of Tiberius himself all is movement. And this movement is never hurried or huddled, nor are the means by which Mr. Graham extricates his characters from the difficulties into which he brings them ever far-fetched or improbable. He is a born story-teller, and ‘Neæra’ is in consequence an admirable story.”