The Roman Traitor Volume Ii Part 34

No revelation from on high had taught those poor Romans, that 'joy shall be in heaven, over the sinner that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine just persons that need no repentance.'

Yet groping darkly on their way by the dim lights of nature and philosophy, they had perceived, at least, that it is harder far for one corrupted from her very childhood, corrupted by the very parents who should have guided, with all her highest qualities of mind and body perverted studiously till they had hardened into vices, to raise herself erect at once from the slough of sensuality and sin, and spring aloft, as the b.u.t.terfly trans.m.u.ted from the grub, into the purity and loveliness of virtue-than for one, who hath known no trial, suffered no temptation, to hold the path of rect.i.tude unswerving.

And Julia, whose high soul and native delicacy were all incapable of comprehending the nature, much less the seductions, of such degradation, as that poor victim of parental villainy had undergone, saw clearly and understood at a glance, the difficulty, the gloriousness, the wonder of that beautiful regeneration.

"No, no. Dear Lucia, dear sister, if you love that name," she said in soothing tones, holding her cold hands clasped in her own quivering fingers, "indeed, indeed you must not think or speak of yourself thus.

Your sins, if you have sinned, are the sins of others, your virtues and your excellence, all, all your own. I have heard many times of women, who have fallen from high virtue, in spite of n.o.ble teachings, in spite of high examples, and whom neither love nor shame could rescue from pollution-but never, never, did I hear of one who so raised herself, alone, unaided, in spite of evil teaching, in spite the atrocity of others, in spite of infamous examples, to purity, devotion such as thine!

But, fear not, Lucia. Fear not, dearest girl, you shall not die, believe-"

"I do not fear, I desire it," said the dying girl, who was growing weaker and fainter every moment. "To a life, and a love like mine, both guilty, both unhappy, death is a refuge, not a terror; and if there be, as you believe, who are so wise and virtuous, a place beyond the grave, where souls parted here on earth, may meet and dwell in serene and tranquil bliss, perhaps, I say, perhaps, Julia, this death may compensate that life-this blood may wash away the sin, the shame, the pollution."

"Believe it, O believe it!" exclaimed Julia earnestly. "How else should the G.o.ds be all-great and all-wise; since vice triumphs often _here_, and virtue pines in sorrow. Be sure, I say, be sure of it, there is a place hereafter, where all sorrows shall be turned to joy, all sufferings compensated, all inequalities made even. Be sure of that, dear Lucia."

"I am sure of it," she replied, a brighter gleam of pleasure crossing her features, on which the hues of death were fast darkening. "I am sure of it _now_. I think my mind grows clearer, as my body dies away. I see-I see-there _is_ G.o.d! Julia-there is an hereafter-an eternity-rest for the weary, joy for the woful! yes! yes! I see-I feel it. We shall meet, Julia.

We shall meet, Paullus, Paullus!" And she sank back fainting and overpowered upon Julia's bosom.

In a moment or two, however, she opened her eyes again, but it was clear that the spirit was on the point of taking its departure.

"I am going!" she said in a very low voice. "I am going. His sword was more merciful than its master.-Bury me in a nameless grave. Let no stone tell the tale of unhappy, guilty Lucia. But come sometimes, Julia, Paullus, and look where I lie; and sometimes-will you not sometimes remember Lucia?"

"You shall live in our souls forever!" replied Julia, stooping down to kiss her.

"In your arms, Paullus, in your arms! will you not let me, Julia? 'Twere sweet to die in your arms, Paullus."-

"How can you ask?" cried Julia, who scarce could speak for the tears and sobs, which almost choked her.

"Here, Paullus, take her, gently, gently."

"Oh! sweet-oh! happy!" she murmured, as she leaned her head against his heart, and fixed her glazing eyes upon his features, and clasped his hand with her poor dying fingers. "She told you, Paullus, that for your love I died to save her!"

"She did-she did-dear, dearest Lucia!"-

"Kiss me," she whispered; "I am going very fast. Kiss me on the brow, Paullus, where years ago you kissed me, when I was yet an innocent child."

Then, fancying that he hesitated, she cried, "you will let him kiss me, now, will you not, Julia? He is yours"-

"Oh! kiss her, kiss her, Paullus," exclaimed Julia eagerly, "how could you fancy, Lucia, that I should wish otherwise? kiss her lips, not her brow, Paullus Arvina."

"Kiss me first thou, dear Julia. I _may_ call you dear."

"Dear Lucia, dearest sister!"

And the pure girl leaned over and pressed a long kiss on the cold lips of the unhappy, guilty, regenerated being, whose death had won for her honor, and life, and happiness.

"Now, Paullus, now," cried Lucia, raising herself from his bosom by a last feeble effort, and stretching out her arms, "now, ere it be too late!"-

He bowed down to her and kissed her lips, and she clasped her arms close about his neck, and returned that last chaste caress, murmuring "Paullus, mine own in death, mine own, own Paullus!"-

There was a sudden rigor, a pa.s.sing tremulous spasm, which ran through her whole frame for a moment-her arms clasped his neck more tightly than before, and then released their hold, all listless and unconscious-her head fell back, with the eyes glazed and visionless, and the white lips half open.

"She is dead, Julia!" exclaimed Paullus, who was not ashamed to weep at that sad close of so young and sorrowful a life, "dead for our happiness!"

"Hush! hush!" cried Julia, who was still gazing on the face of the dead-"There is a change-see! see! how beautiful, how tranquil!"-

And in truth a sweet placid smile had settled about the pallid mouth, and nothing can be conceived more lovely than the calm, holy, pure expression which breathed from every lineament of the lifeless countenance.

"She is gone, peace to her manes."

"She is at rest, now, Paullus, she is happy!" murmured Julia. "How excellent she was, how true, how brave, how devoted! Oh! yes! I doubt not, she is happy."

"The G.o.ds grant it!" he replied fervently. "But I have yet a duty," and drawing his short straight sword he severed one long dark curl from the lifeless head, and raising it aloft in his left hand, while with the right he pointed heavenward the gleaming steel, "Ye G.o.ds!" he cried, "supernal and infernal! and ye spirits and powers, shades of the mighty dead! Hear earth, and heaven, and thou Tartarus! by this good steel, by this right hand, in presence of this sacred dead, I swear, I devote Catiline and his hated head to vengeance! By this sword may he perish; may this hair be steeped in his lifeblood; may he know himself, when dying, the victim of my vengeance-may dogs eat his body-and his unburied spirit know neither Tartarus nor Elysium!"-

It was strange, but as he ceased from that wild imprecation, a faint flash of lightning veined the remote horizon, and a low clap of thunder rumbled afar off, echoing among the hills-perchance the last of a storm, unheard before and unnoticed by the distracted minds of the spectators of that scene.

But the superst.i.tious Romans accepted it as an omen.

"Thunder!"-cried one.

"The G.o.ds have spoken!"-

"I hail the omen!" exclaimed Paullus, sheathing his sword, and thrusting the tress of hair into his bosom. "By my hand shall he perish!"

And thenceforth, it was believed generally by the soldiers, that in the coming struggle Catiline was destined to fall, and by the hand of Paul Arvina.

CHAPTER XIX.

THE EVE OF BATTLE.

Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased.

MACBETH.

Nearly a fortnight had elapsed since the rescue of Julia, and the sad death of Catiline's unhappy daughter, and yet the battle which was daily and hourly expected, had not been fought.

With rare ability and generalship, Catiline had avoided an action with the troops of Antonius, marching and countermarching among the rugged pa.s.ses of the Appennines, now toward Rome, now toward Gaul, keeping the enemy constantly on the alert, hara.s.sing the consul's outposts, threatening the city itself with an a.s.sault, and maintaining with studious skill that appearance of mystery, which is so potent an instrument whether to terrify or to fascinate the vulgar mind.

During this period the celerity of his movements had been such that his little host appeared to be almost ubiquitous, and men knew not where to look for his descent, or how to antic.i.p.ate the blow, which he evidently had it in contemplation to deliver.

In the meantime, he had given such of his adherents as fled from Rome immediately on the execution of the conspirators, an opportunity to join him, and many had in fact done so with their clients, and bands of gladiators.

The disaffected of the open country had all united themselves to him; and having commenced operations with a force not exceeding two thousand men, he was now at the head of six times that number, whom he had formed into two complete legions, and disciplined them with equal a.s.siduity and success.

Now, however, the time had arrived when it was for his advantage no longer to avoid an encounter with the troops of the commonwealth; for having gained all that he proposed to himself by his dilatory movements and Fabian policy, time namely for the concentration of his adherents, and opportunity to discipline his men, he now began to suffer from the inconveniences of the system.