BOOK XIV.
MARY MAGDALENÉ.
Paul declines to undertake the healing of Simon at Felix's request. But Simon had first refused to suffer Paul's access to him, at the same time warning both Felix and Drusilla of the evil likely to result to their little son from a touch to him of Paul's hand which the sick sorcerer had just observed through the lattice. Felix and Drusilla, freshly angered at Paul, resolve together on his destruction. A second meeting assembles to hear Mary's story. This time there is an interruption occasioned by a disturbing written message from Felix, sent to Julius the centurion, one of the listeners.
MARY MAGDALENÉ.
When one set high, but hopeless gross in grain
Of nature—and through habit of license long
And self-indulging pride of place and power
Grown grosser—by reverse of fortune falls,
And can no longer wield his insolence
So widely as his wish were and his wont
Has been, then often he will salve himself
That sore-felt loss of brutal privilege
By being more insolent still where yet he may:
So Felix now wreaked his revenge on Paul.
Paul knew him powerless, but he would not turn
Retort on the humiliated man,
Or aught abate toward him the obeisance due
The ruler that he lately was—a strict
Respect enforced by his own self-respect.
Of nature—and through habit of license long
And self-indulging pride of place and power
Grown grosser—by reverse of fortune falls,
And can no longer wield his insolence
So widely as his wish were and his wont
Has been, then often he will salve himself
That sore-felt loss of brutal privilege
By being more insolent still where yet he may:
So Felix now wreaked his revenge on Paul.
Paul knew him powerless, but he would not turn
Retort on the humiliated man,
Or aught abate toward him the obeisance due
The ruler that he lately was—a strict
Respect enforced by his own self-respect.
Felix had with fair princely promises—
Commended to those simple islanders
By large report of recent royal state
His and of prospects brighter yet at Rome,
As by Drusilla's airs of queen—made shift
To lodge himself commodiously with his train:
Under his roof apart Simon lay sick.
Commended to those simple islanders
By large report of recent royal state
His and of prospects brighter yet at Rome,
As by Drusilla's airs of queen—made shift
To lodge himself commodiously with his train:
Under his roof apart Simon lay sick.
"Thou hast heard doubtless what I would from thee"—
So without greeting Felix said to Paul—
"Thy trick of healing for a gentleman
I have the humor to regard with love.
A fellow-countryman of thine he is,
Something too of a fellow-conjurer"—
And Felix grinned at his own pleasantry;
"He has fallen sick in this accurséd place.
'Physician, heal thyself,' thou wilt say to him,
For, aye, he is helpless for his own relief.
Heal him; thou shalt not unrewarded go.
I think that I can serve thy cause at Rome,
Where there is need greater than thou wouldst guess.
For they love justice there so well they sell
It high; great sums, money in hand, they want;
Or preferably sometimes they will commute
For other things than money still dearer to men.
A mighty mart is Rome; they barter there
Justice for pleasure, pleasure in various kinds,
Most of it such as thou couldst not provide—
Unless indeed thy pretty countrywoman—"
But a sharp spearthrust look, shot forth from Paul,
Sudden as lightning and as branding bright,
Broke that word off, and Felix faltered on
With forced resumption of his insolence:
"A good round price they ask, whatever the kind.
Have me for friend at court and thou shalt thrive.
Simple and easy; make this gentleman well,
Nothing but that; just a few mumbled words,
A magic touch of hand, presto, all's done.
What thou art giving to these wretches here,
These beggarly Melitans, with no reward
Except the fun of seeing them jump for joy,
Look, I am purchasing from thee at great price.
But stay, thy patient has not yet been told
What thus is planned for him. Let me prepare
Thy way a little, ere thy task thou try."
So without greeting Felix said to Paul—
"Thy trick of healing for a gentleman
I have the humor to regard with love.
A fellow-countryman of thine he is,
Something too of a fellow-conjurer"—
And Felix grinned at his own pleasantry;
"He has fallen sick in this accurséd place.
'Physician, heal thyself,' thou wilt say to him,
For, aye, he is helpless for his own relief.
Heal him; thou shalt not unrewarded go.
I think that I can serve thy cause at Rome,
Where there is need greater than thou wouldst guess.
For they love justice there so well they sell
It high; great sums, money in hand, they want;
Or preferably sometimes they will commute
For other things than money still dearer to men.
A mighty mart is Rome; they barter there
Justice for pleasure, pleasure in various kinds,
Most of it such as thou couldst not provide—
Unless indeed thy pretty countrywoman—"
But a sharp spearthrust look, shot forth from Paul,
Sudden as lightning and as branding bright,
Broke that word off, and Felix faltered on
With forced resumption of his insolence:
"A good round price they ask, whatever the kind.
Have me for friend at court and thou shalt thrive.
Simple and easy; make this gentleman well,
Nothing but that; just a few mumbled words,
A magic touch of hand, presto, all's done.
What thou art giving to these wretches here,
These beggarly Melitans, with no reward
Except the fun of seeing them jump for joy,
Look, I am purchasing from thee at great price.
But stay, thy patient has not yet been told
What thus is planned for him. Let me prepare
Thy way a little, ere thy task thou try."
When Felix entered where the sorcerer lay
The peevish sick man was the first to speak:
"That Paul had little Felix by the hand;
Just now I saw him through the lattice here.
It is an evil hand, beware of it.
Its touch brings certain mischief where he will,
And that toward thee and thine he will, be sure."
Felix was startled, but he cheerily said:
"Go to, I was just bargaining with Paul
To have him use his laying on of hands
For thee, good Simon. Cheer thee up, my man;
We shall soon have thee out of this." But he:
"Paul shall not touch me, shall not look at me.
I fear him, and I hate him; out upon him!"
"Listen to reason, Simon," Felix said;
"Thou canst not doubt he really works strange cures;
There was the father of Sir Publius,
And scores of sick among this native rabble
Have come out whole from under those same hands."
"It served his turn," piped Simon. "It shall serve
No less his turn to heal thee," Felix said;
"I have made it his account to play us true."
"Hark thee, my master, for this word stands fast,"
Said Simon, rousing halfway from his bed,
"I will have none of Paul; I will get well
From spite, rather than have those hands on me."
And Simon moved in act as if to rise;
But Felix stayed him still his bed to keep.
Then, thwarted, he returned to Paul, and said:
"He will not let thee lay thy hands on him,
A fit of foolish stubbornness, he fears
Thee, or pretends he fears; he certain hates
Thee, no pretence. Well, he is right perhaps;
You fellow-Jews ought to know one another.
But I would trust thee, Roman as I am."
(Vaunting his Roman franchise Felix thus
His clinging freedman's quality betrayed);
"That is, safe pledge in hand, thou understandest,
Such as I hold, thou knowing well thy life
Hangs on my word for thee at Rome; would trust
Thee, nay, I trust thee, Paul, and thou shalt yet
Despite this worthy's Jewish contumacy,
Heal him, ha! ha! without his knowing it.
Put him to sleep, thou canst; thou hast the drugs
Doubtless will soundly do it; compound them thou,
And I will undertake he swallows them.
Then thou canst fetch thy passes with the hand
At leisure over all his ailing frame,
And heal him—joke as it were at his expense!"
The peevish sick man was the first to speak:
"That Paul had little Felix by the hand;
Just now I saw him through the lattice here.
It is an evil hand, beware of it.
Its touch brings certain mischief where he will,
And that toward thee and thine he will, be sure."
Felix was startled, but he cheerily said:
"Go to, I was just bargaining with Paul
To have him use his laying on of hands
For thee, good Simon. Cheer thee up, my man;
We shall soon have thee out of this." But he:
"Paul shall not touch me, shall not look at me.
I fear him, and I hate him; out upon him!"
"Listen to reason, Simon," Felix said;
"Thou canst not doubt he really works strange cures;
There was the father of Sir Publius,
And scores of sick among this native rabble
Have come out whole from under those same hands."
"It served his turn," piped Simon. "It shall serve
No less his turn to heal thee," Felix said;
"I have made it his account to play us true."
"Hark thee, my master, for this word stands fast,"
Said Simon, rousing halfway from his bed,
"I will have none of Paul; I will get well
From spite, rather than have those hands on me."
And Simon moved in act as if to rise;
But Felix stayed him still his bed to keep.
Then, thwarted, he returned to Paul, and said:
"He will not let thee lay thy hands on him,
A fit of foolish stubbornness, he fears
Thee, or pretends he fears; he certain hates
Thee, no pretence. Well, he is right perhaps;
You fellow-Jews ought to know one another.
But I would trust thee, Roman as I am."
(Vaunting his Roman franchise Felix thus
His clinging freedman's quality betrayed);
"That is, safe pledge in hand, thou understandest,
Such as I hold, thou knowing well thy life
Hangs on my word for thee at Rome; would trust
Thee, nay, I trust thee, Paul, and thou shalt yet
Despite this worthy's Jewish contumacy,
Heal him, ha! ha! without his knowing it.
Put him to sleep, thou canst; thou hast the drugs
Doubtless will soundly do it; compound them thou,
And I will undertake he swallows them.
Then thou canst fetch thy passes with the hand
At leisure over all his ailing frame,
And heal him—joke as it were at his expense!"
Paul had stood listless with his eyes downcast
And with his heart withdrawn from what he heard,
And Felix had felt effect that penetrated
Yea even his triple mail of insolence
And dashed him sore; he had rallied all his force
Against it to maintain his tone assumed
Of falsely-festive brutal cynicism.
Helplessly dumb he hearkened, while Paul replied:
"Lord Felix cannot know the grace of God,
Whereof mine is but trust and stewardship.
My power of healing is not mine, but God's;
I have it, not to use it as I will,
But as God wills, who shows His will to me.
I dare not, would not, use it otherwise,
I could not, He would take it away from me;
Would not continue it rather, for it is
Dependent momently on His immanent will.
I had no hint from Him as of behest
That I accomplish thine announced desire.
I might have promptly sent thee back such word
By thine own messenger; but I had seemed
So to be wanting somewhat in the heed
Due to thy station; I therefore came myself
To tell thee, O lord Felix, to thy face,
That I am servant of the Most High God,
Subject as such to no man's bidding, thine
Or other's, and not free to mine own choice.
Yet so I half misrepresent myself,
For to mine own choice I feel wholly free,
My choice being His who works in me to choose.
Toward Simon, although he love me not, I bear,
God is my witness, no ill will; instead,
Would I could serve him! and perhaps I might,
I know not, were his heart but right with God.
Let him renounce his ways of wickedness;
God to all men is good who will repent.
But His face is as fire not to be quenched,
Wrathful, devouring to the uttermost,
Against all, no respect of person, who
Strengthen themselves in their iniquity.
None shall escape at last, although, because
God's judgment is a while delayed, they may
Dream that it never will descend on them.
Delay is but forbearance, not neglect;
God's goodness leadeth to repentance; woe,
Woe, yea, and sevenfold woe, alight on those,
All, who despise that grace of God in Christ!"
And with his heart withdrawn from what he heard,
And Felix had felt effect that penetrated
Yea even his triple mail of insolence
And dashed him sore; he had rallied all his force
Against it to maintain his tone assumed
Of falsely-festive brutal cynicism.
Helplessly dumb he hearkened, while Paul replied:
"Lord Felix cannot know the grace of God,
Whereof mine is but trust and stewardship.
My power of healing is not mine, but God's;
I have it, not to use it as I will,
But as God wills, who shows His will to me.
I dare not, would not, use it otherwise,
I could not, He would take it away from me;
Would not continue it rather, for it is
Dependent momently on His immanent will.
I had no hint from Him as of behest
That I accomplish thine announced desire.
I might have promptly sent thee back such word
By thine own messenger; but I had seemed
So to be wanting somewhat in the heed
Due to thy station; I therefore came myself
To tell thee, O lord Felix, to thy face,
That I am servant of the Most High God,
Subject as such to no man's bidding, thine
Or other's, and not free to mine own choice.
Yet so I half misrepresent myself,
For to mine own choice I feel wholly free,
My choice being His who works in me to choose.
Toward Simon, although he love me not, I bear,
God is my witness, no ill will; instead,
Would I could serve him! and perhaps I might,
I know not, were his heart but right with God.
Let him renounce his ways of wickedness;
God to all men is good who will repent.
But His face is as fire not to be quenched,
Wrathful, devouring to the uttermost,
Against all, no respect of person, who
Strengthen themselves in their iniquity.
None shall escape at last, although, because
God's judgment is a while delayed, they may
Dream that it never will descend on them.
Delay is but forbearance, not neglect;
God's goodness leadeth to repentance; woe,
Woe, yea, and sevenfold woe, alight on those,
All, who despise that grace of God in Christ!"
No shudder of terror swept over Felix now,
As when that wave of trembling shook him so
At Cæsarea in the judgment hall.
He recognized an echo in Paul's words
Of what he heard that day from those same lips
And then thought dreadful. 'Strange,' he dully mused,
'How moments of weakness sometimes find out men!
Why should I then have feared, and naught to fear,
Save words, mere words? Solemnly spoken, aye,
And I could not but hearken to the man,
Majestic in his gesture and austere.
Even now I sit and listen to the voice,
But I am fenced and mailed that it hurts not.
Would that I felt but half as safe from Rome!'
As when that wave of trembling shook him so
At Cæsarea in the judgment hall.
He recognized an echo in Paul's words
Of what he heard that day from those same lips
And then thought dreadful. 'Strange,' he dully mused,
'How moments of weakness sometimes find out men!
Why should I then have feared, and naught to fear,
Save words, mere words? Solemnly spoken, aye,
And I could not but hearken to the man,
Majestic in his gesture and austere.
Even now I sit and listen to the voice,
But I am fenced and mailed that it hurts not.
Would that I felt but half as safe from Rome!'
So Felix in a half unconscious sort
Heard Paul's words then hollow and meaningless;
Only rebounded from them to the doubt,
The hateful haunting doubt, of what lay hid
Within the horizon of this present world
For him; deaf, since that day of final doom,
To Sinai thundering from the world to come!
Heard Paul's words then hollow and meaningless;
Only rebounded from them to the doubt,
The hateful haunting doubt, of what lay hid
Within the horizon of this present world
For him; deaf, since that day of final doom,
To Sinai thundering from the world to come!
Two witnesses had witnessed that which passed
Thus between Paul and Felix: secret one,
Eavesdropper from behind a hanging nigh,
Felix's jealous and suspicious spouse
Drusilla; one in open view, and frank,
Observant while obtrusive not, well-poised
In sense of self-effacing loyalty,
Young Stephen, shadow of his uncle Paul.
He, as of course, fulfilling duty, went
Wherever his illustrious kinsman went,
If aught of peril to him, or need, could there
By watchful love be guessed. Paul now by Stephen
Attended from that alien presence forth,
Drusilla from her hiding burst, and cried:
"A Jewish mother's curse fast cling to Paul,
False, renegade Jew, who has his cursing hand
Folded on little Felix's this day!
Heed Simon, and beware of Paul. O, why,
Why didst thou, couldst thou, think of summoning him,
Hated of all his nation so, to blight
The hope and fortune of our shaken house
With creeping leper's plague upon our boy;
Or perhaps other mischief worse than that!
O, Felix! Felix! O, my lord, my lord!"
Thus between Paul and Felix: secret one,
Eavesdropper from behind a hanging nigh,
Felix's jealous and suspicious spouse
Drusilla; one in open view, and frank,
Observant while obtrusive not, well-poised
In sense of self-effacing loyalty,
Young Stephen, shadow of his uncle Paul.
He, as of course, fulfilling duty, went
Wherever his illustrious kinsman went,
If aught of peril to him, or need, could there
By watchful love be guessed. Paul now by Stephen
Attended from that alien presence forth,
Drusilla from her hiding burst, and cried:
"A Jewish mother's curse fast cling to Paul,
False, renegade Jew, who has his cursing hand
Folded on little Felix's this day!
Heed Simon, and beware of Paul. O, why,
Why didst thou, couldst thou, think of summoning him,
Hated of all his nation so, to blight
The hope and fortune of our shaken house
With creeping leper's plague upon our boy;
Or perhaps other mischief worse than that!
O, Felix! Felix! O, my lord, my lord!"
Such woman's wailing and upbraiding broke
All the man's force in Felix to withstand.
He joined his imprecations upon Paul
And swore her ready oaths to work him woe.
Then as the pair conspired in vengeful vows
Against him, mutually to each other pledged,
"With that young cub of his too," Felix said,
"Fair-favored as he is, a meddlesome lad,
Following his greybeard uncle round about
With spaniel looks and watch-dog carefulness;
And our friend Sergius Paulus, understood!"
All the man's force in Felix to withstand.
He joined his imprecations upon Paul
And swore her ready oaths to work him woe.
Then as the pair conspired in vengeful vows
Against him, mutually to each other pledged,
"With that young cub of his too," Felix said,
"Fair-favored as he is, a meddlesome lad,
Following his greybeard uncle round about
With spaniel looks and watch-dog carefulness;
And our friend Sergius Paulus, understood!"
Simon made good his threat of getting well,
And fostered and fomented all he could
The viperous hatch of hatred against Paul.
Stephen reported to his company
The incident and the spirit of the scene
Beheld by him enacted between Paul
And Felix; and all knew full well the dark
Presage of consequence for Paul it bore.
And fostered and fomented all he could
The viperous hatch of hatred against Paul.
Stephen reported to his company
The incident and the spirit of the scene
Beheld by him enacted between Paul
And Felix; and all knew full well the dark
Presage of consequence for Paul it bore.
A little more deeply shadowed in their mind,
Pathetically hopeful yet in God,
They met next day again, as had been planned,
In the same spot with the same weather still
Prolonging that winter interlude of spring,
When Mary thus her broken-off tale resumed:
"The wonder of the works that Jesus did,
Wonderful as they were for grace and power,
Was less than of the words that Jesus spake.
'Spirit and life' these were, as Himself said.
Once I remember, near Gennesaret,
On a green grassy mound which swelled so high
That mountain even it meetly might be called,
Sitting Him down as on a natural throne
Of kinglike gentle state, there, with the waves
Of that bright water kneeling at His feet
And the blue cope of sky canopying His head,
He His disciples round about Him drew
And taught us of the coming kingdom of heaven.
'Blesséd the poor in spirit,' He began,
'For unto them belongs the kingdom of heaven;
Blesséd the souls that mourn, for in God's time
They shall be comforted; blesséd the meek,
For theirs the heritage of the earth shall be;
Blesséd the souls ahungered and athirst
For righteousness, for they shall yet be filled;
Blesséd the merciful, for mercy they
In turn shall find; blesséd the pure in heart,
For they God's face shall see; blesséd, who make
Peace among men, for they shall thence be called
Children of God; blesséd, who for the sake
Of righteousness shall persecuted be,
For unto them belongs the kingdom of heaven.'"
Pathetically hopeful yet in God,
They met next day again, as had been planned,
In the same spot with the same weather still
Prolonging that winter interlude of spring,
When Mary thus her broken-off tale resumed:
"The wonder of the works that Jesus did,
Wonderful as they were for grace and power,
Was less than of the words that Jesus spake.
'Spirit and life' these were, as Himself said.
Once I remember, near Gennesaret,
On a green grassy mound which swelled so high
That mountain even it meetly might be called,
Sitting Him down as on a natural throne
Of kinglike gentle state, there, with the waves
Of that bright water kneeling at His feet
And the blue cope of sky canopying His head,
He His disciples round about Him drew
And taught us of the coming kingdom of heaven.
'Blesséd the poor in spirit,' He began,
'For unto them belongs the kingdom of heaven;
Blesséd the souls that mourn, for in God's time
They shall be comforted; blesséd the meek,
For theirs the heritage of the earth shall be;
Blesséd the souls ahungered and athirst
For righteousness, for they shall yet be filled;
Blesséd the merciful, for mercy they
In turn shall find; blesséd the pure in heart,
For they God's face shall see; blesséd, who make
Peace among men, for they shall thence be called
Children of God; blesséd, who for the sake
Of righteousness shall persecuted be,
For unto them belongs the kingdom of heaven.'"
"I cannot," interrupting so herself,
Said Mary, "cannot ever make you know
How like a heavenly-chanted music flowed
The stream of these beatitudes from Him.
The lovely paradox of blessedness
Pronounced upon the persecuted, seemed
So like the purest, simplest reasonableness,
When those unfaltering lips declared it true!
All things seemed easy and certain that He said;
Certain, yet some things awful and austere;
As when in that same speech with altered strain
He sternly spake of judgment and hell-fire;
It was as if the mount whereon He sat,
Verdurous and soft, were into Sinai turned,
And muttered thunder. But when with a change
And cadence indescribable He said:
'Love ye your enemies, and them that curse
You, bless, do good to them that hate you, pray
For them that use you only with despite
And persecute you still, that ye may be
The children of your Father in the heavens,
For He His sun maketh to rise alike
Upon the evil and upon the good,
And without difference sendeth rain upon
The just with the unjust. For if ye love
Them that love you, what have ye for reward?
Do not the oppressive publicans the same?
And if your brethren only ye salute,
What more than others do ye do? Do not
The oppressive publicans likewise? But ye,
Be perfect, as your heavenly Father is:'
And then when, closing, with authority
He said: 'Whoever heareth these sayings of Mine
And doeth them, I will liken him to one
Who wisely built his house upon a rock;
The rain descended then and the floods came
And the winds blew and beat upon that house,
And it fell not, being founded on a rock:
And every one that heareth these sayings of Mine
And doeth them not, he shall be likened to one
Who foolishly his house built on the sand;
The rain descended then and the floods came
And the winds blew and beat upon that house—
It fell, and mighty was the fall thereof;'
When thus, I say, He tempered His discourse,
Sweetness and awfulness were blended so
In His majestic and benignant mien
As never yet I knew them—never until
They met and kissed each other at Calvary.
That," Mary with a look toward Krishna said,
After a pause of reminiscence mute,
"That was when Jesus died upon the cross."
"Tell me of that," said Krishna answering her,
Forgetful for an instant of reserve;
Then added with self-recollection swift:
"But all in order due, or as thou wilt,
For I am debtor to thy courtesy,
And I shall listen fain to what thou sayest,
All, and however thou shalt order it.
I find thy Master's doctrine sweet to hear,
And partly not unlike our Buddha's strain."
"Perhaps our guest, if I may name him such,"
Downcast toward Krishna turning, Mary said—
"Most welcome we all make him, I am sure,
To this our simple hospitality
Of converse or of audience, wherein I
Seem to be bearing here a part too large—
Perhaps," repeated Mary, "now our guest
Will tell us something of his master Buddha"—
She therewith resting, as to yield him room.
"Another day, if I may choose, for that,"
Said Krishna; "pardon me my hasty word,
And pray thee let thine own tale choose its way."
Said Mary, "cannot ever make you know
How like a heavenly-chanted music flowed
The stream of these beatitudes from Him.
The lovely paradox of blessedness
Pronounced upon the persecuted, seemed
So like the purest, simplest reasonableness,
When those unfaltering lips declared it true!
All things seemed easy and certain that He said;
Certain, yet some things awful and austere;
As when in that same speech with altered strain
He sternly spake of judgment and hell-fire;
It was as if the mount whereon He sat,
Verdurous and soft, were into Sinai turned,
And muttered thunder. But when with a change
And cadence indescribable He said:
'Love ye your enemies, and them that curse
You, bless, do good to them that hate you, pray
For them that use you only with despite
And persecute you still, that ye may be
The children of your Father in the heavens,
For He His sun maketh to rise alike
Upon the evil and upon the good,
And without difference sendeth rain upon
The just with the unjust. For if ye love
Them that love you, what have ye for reward?
Do not the oppressive publicans the same?
And if your brethren only ye salute,
What more than others do ye do? Do not
The oppressive publicans likewise? But ye,
Be perfect, as your heavenly Father is:'
And then when, closing, with authority
He said: 'Whoever heareth these sayings of Mine
And doeth them, I will liken him to one
Who wisely built his house upon a rock;
The rain descended then and the floods came
And the winds blew and beat upon that house,
And it fell not, being founded on a rock:
And every one that heareth these sayings of Mine
And doeth them not, he shall be likened to one
Who foolishly his house built on the sand;
The rain descended then and the floods came
And the winds blew and beat upon that house—
It fell, and mighty was the fall thereof;'
When thus, I say, He tempered His discourse,
Sweetness and awfulness were blended so
In His majestic and benignant mien
As never yet I knew them—never until
They met and kissed each other at Calvary.
That," Mary with a look toward Krishna said,
After a pause of reminiscence mute,
"That was when Jesus died upon the cross."
"Tell me of that," said Krishna answering her,
Forgetful for an instant of reserve;
Then added with self-recollection swift:
"But all in order due, or as thou wilt,
For I am debtor to thy courtesy,
And I shall listen fain to what thou sayest,
All, and however thou shalt order it.
I find thy Master's doctrine sweet to hear,
And partly not unlike our Buddha's strain."
"Perhaps our guest, if I may name him such,"
Downcast toward Krishna turning, Mary said—
"Most welcome we all make him, I am sure,
To this our simple hospitality
Of converse or of audience, wherein I
Seem to be bearing here a part too large—
Perhaps," repeated Mary, "now our guest
Will tell us something of his master Buddha"—
She therewith resting, as to yield him room.
"Another day, if I may choose, for that,"
Said Krishna; "pardon me my hasty word,
And pray thee let thine own tale choose its way."
Then Mary: "It were sad to tell the end,
How Jesus died, save that He afterward
Rose gloriously, and that before He died,
In prospect near of dying, He spake words
So gracious and so full of victory!
How well we know it now; but, alas, then
Our hearts were holden and we did not know!
Strange that we did not know, for oft he said,
Oft, and in many ways, remembered since,
That He would die and after rise again.
Yet, at the last, when He of dying spake,
Our hearts were charged with sorrow, and when He died
Our hearts, they broke with sorrow and with no hope.
How Jesus died, save that He afterward
Rose gloriously, and that before He died,
In prospect near of dying, He spake words
So gracious and so full of victory!
How well we know it now; but, alas, then
Our hearts were holden and we did not know!
Strange that we did not know, for oft he said,
Oft, and in many ways, remembered since,
That He would die and after rise again.
Yet, at the last, when He of dying spake,
Our hearts were charged with sorrow, and when He died
Our hearts, they broke with sorrow and with no hope.
"O, it was beautiful, most beautiful—
It seems so to the backward-looking eye,
Which sees it now, when all is over and done,
The shame and sharpness of the cross gone by,
And He safe sitting in the glory of God—
Beautiful and pathetic beyond words
(Pathetic still, though all be over and done,
Secure the issue and blesséd), the way in which
Our Savior faced His future welcoming it,
That future with its unescapable cross,
Its mystery of His Father's smile withdrawn!
For truly, though our Lord by faith foreknew
The end beyond the seeming end, the dawn
To be after the shadow of the night—
The dawn, the day, the everlasting day!—
Yet horror possessed His almost-drowning soul
Of that which He must suffer ere the end.
Peter and James and John told us of how,
Alone of all companionship, retired
From them even whom He had chosen to be with Him,
He, in the garden of Gethsemane
At midnight of the night before the cross,
Prayed, and in agony great drops of blood
Shed as in sweat, desiring with desire
To have the cup removed that He must drink.
It could not be, it was not, dread of death,
Though painful and though shameful, shook Him so—"
It seems so to the backward-looking eye,
Which sees it now, when all is over and done,
The shame and sharpness of the cross gone by,
And He safe sitting in the glory of God—
Beautiful and pathetic beyond words
(Pathetic still, though all be over and done,
Secure the issue and blesséd), the way in which
Our Savior faced His future welcoming it,
That future with its unescapable cross,
Its mystery of His Father's smile withdrawn!
For truly, though our Lord by faith foreknew
The end beyond the seeming end, the dawn
To be after the shadow of the night—
The dawn, the day, the everlasting day!—
Yet horror possessed His almost-drowning soul
Of that which He must suffer ere the end.
Peter and James and John told us of how,
Alone of all companionship, retired
From them even whom He had chosen to be with Him,
He, in the garden of Gethsemane
At midnight of the night before the cross,
Prayed, and in agony great drops of blood
Shed as in sweat, desiring with desire
To have the cup removed that He must drink.
It could not be, it was not, dread of death,
Though painful and though shameful, shook Him so—"
So Mary, swerved to sudden wonder, said,
And question in her look as if for Paul.
Paul answered: "Nay, oh, nay, not dread of death;
That cup how many, finite like ourselves,
Have taken and quaffed with overcoming joy
In martyrdom for truth! Some mixture worse,
O, unimaginably worse! to Him
Embittered His inevitable cup,
That He, beyond His human brethren brave,
So shrank from drinking it. His was to bear
As Lamb of God in sacrifice, the weight
Of the world's sin. This crushed Him sinless down
Immeasurable abysses into woe,
The woe of feeling forsaken by His God.
Supported by believing in the joy
Far set before Him He endured the cross,
Despising the shame, and is in sequel now,
We know, and love to know, at the right hand
Of God His Father throned forevermore,
There waiting—He, inheritor of the name
Exalted high above whatever name,
The name of King of kings and Lord of lords—
Until His footstool all His foes be made."
And question in her look as if for Paul.
Paul answered: "Nay, oh, nay, not dread of death;
That cup how many, finite like ourselves,
Have taken and quaffed with overcoming joy
In martyrdom for truth! Some mixture worse,
O, unimaginably worse! to Him
Embittered His inevitable cup,
That He, beyond His human brethren brave,
So shrank from drinking it. His was to bear
As Lamb of God in sacrifice, the weight
Of the world's sin. This crushed Him sinless down
Immeasurable abysses into woe,
The woe of feeling forsaken by His God.
Supported by believing in the joy
Far set before Him He endured the cross,
Despising the shame, and is in sequel now,
We know, and love to know, at the right hand
Of God His Father throned forevermore,
There waiting—He, inheritor of the name
Exalted high above whatever name,
The name of King of kings and Lord of lords—
Until His footstool all His foes be made."
"Amen!" in fervent chorus, Krishna heard
Break, soft and solemn, from the lips of all,
With Mary, who then thus her tale renewed:
"Before His passion in Gethsemane
And on the cross loomed nigh enough to Him
To cast its solemn shadow deep and dark
Over His prophet mind and over us,
We had been walking joyous through the land,
Green flowery land it was of hill and dale,
With flocks and herds, and villages of men,
The land of Galilee, gushing with springs,
And spreading fair her lake Gennesaret,
Now placid a pure mirror to the sky,
Anon tumultuous, if rash wing of wind
Swooped down upon it from the mountain shore—
We had been walking through this lovely land
With Jesus, He, like sower gone forth to sow,
Scattering His gifts of healing everywhere
Broadcast about Him as He passed along;
Or sometimes feeding the great multitudes
That, like to sheep having no shepherd, thronged
His way, feeding them freely from a hand
That multiplied the bounty it bestowed;—
It was like journeying sphered with journeying spring
Created for us where we set our feet;
Our hearts were garlanded as for festival,
So gladsome was it to behold our King
Advancing in such progress through the land
And lavishing such largess on His poor.
But largess of beneficence from His hand
Was nothing to the largess from His lips
Of wisdom and of grace and of good news—
To the obedient; the rebellious He
Judgments and terrors dire announced against
That fastened and kindled like Gehenna fire.
I was baptized with shuddering but to hear
The woes leap living from those holy lips—
Which then nigh seemed to smoke like Sinai top
With indignation—on the Pharisees,
The Sadducees, the lawyers, and the scribes,
Unworthy found and judged for hypocrites.
Most fearful as most fair theophany, He!
One looked to see them flame, as lightning-struck,
Those cities of people that rejected Him,
Bethsaida, Chorazin, and that proud
Capernaum, when on them His woes He launched,
Hurtling them from His mouth like thunderbolts.
Break, soft and solemn, from the lips of all,
With Mary, who then thus her tale renewed:
"Before His passion in Gethsemane
And on the cross loomed nigh enough to Him
To cast its solemn shadow deep and dark
Over His prophet mind and over us,
We had been walking joyous through the land,
Green flowery land it was of hill and dale,
With flocks and herds, and villages of men,
The land of Galilee, gushing with springs,
And spreading fair her lake Gennesaret,
Now placid a pure mirror to the sky,
Anon tumultuous, if rash wing of wind
Swooped down upon it from the mountain shore—
We had been walking through this lovely land
With Jesus, He, like sower gone forth to sow,
Scattering His gifts of healing everywhere
Broadcast about Him as He passed along;
Or sometimes feeding the great multitudes
That, like to sheep having no shepherd, thronged
His way, feeding them freely from a hand
That multiplied the bounty it bestowed;—
It was like journeying sphered with journeying spring
Created for us where we set our feet;
Our hearts were garlanded as for festival,
So gladsome was it to behold our King
Advancing in such progress through the land
And lavishing such largess on His poor.
But largess of beneficence from His hand
Was nothing to the largess from His lips
Of wisdom and of grace and of good news—
To the obedient; the rebellious He
Judgments and terrors dire announced against
That fastened and kindled like Gehenna fire.
I was baptized with shuddering but to hear
The woes leap living from those holy lips—
Which then nigh seemed to smoke like Sinai top
With indignation—on the Pharisees,
The Sadducees, the lawyers, and the scribes,
Unworthy found and judged for hypocrites.
Most fearful as most fair theophany, He!
One looked to see them flame, as lightning-struck,
Those cities of people that rejected Him,
Bethsaida, Chorazin, and that proud
Capernaum, when on them His woes He launched,
Hurtling them from His mouth like thunderbolts.
"To ears fresh wounded from such frightful woes,
How balmy and how healing were these words
Cadenced ineffably from those same lips:
'Come unto Me, all ye that labor, ye
That heavy laden are, come ye, and I
Will give you rest. My yoke upon you take
And learn of Me, for meek and lowly in heart
Am I, and ye rest to your souls shall find.'
How balmy and how healing were these words
Cadenced ineffably from those same lips:
'Come unto Me, all ye that labor, ye
That heavy laden are, come ye, and I
Will give you rest. My yoke upon you take
And learn of Me, for meek and lowly in heart
Am I, and ye rest to your souls shall find.'
"With invitation or with warning He
Or with most sweet instruction heavenly wise,
Our soul, our senses, feasting thus, the while
He wrought too with that easy omnipotence
His manifold mighty miracles of grace,
We walked long time with Jesus; how long time
I know not, for the days and weeks they came
And went unnoted and the seasons changed.
But at last He, how shall I say it? became
Almost a different being from Himself.
He spake of a mysterious hour, 'Mine hour,'
He called it with some solemn meaning, what,
We could not or we did not then divine,
Couched in the word; that hour was now drawn near.
It seemed to frown upon Him imminent
And cast a somber shadow on His face.
He dreaded it, and yet He welcomed it,
Hasting the more to meet it as it neared.
Or with most sweet instruction heavenly wise,
Our soul, our senses, feasting thus, the while
He wrought too with that easy omnipotence
His manifold mighty miracles of grace,
We walked long time with Jesus; how long time
I know not, for the days and weeks they came
And went unnoted and the seasons changed.
But at last He, how shall I say it? became
Almost a different being from Himself.
He spake of a mysterious hour, 'Mine hour,'
He called it with some solemn meaning, what,
We could not or we did not then divine,
Couched in the word; that hour was now drawn near.
It seemed to frown upon Him imminent
And cast a somber shadow on His face.
He dreaded it, and yet He welcomed it,
Hasting the more to meet it as it neared.
"We were afraid of Him, with a new fear,
He looked so awful in His loneliness.
For He no longer with us walked; He walked
Before us, hasting to Jerusalem.
How steadfastly His face was thither set!
He as if saw the features of His hour
Coming out clearer and clearer, and always there!
He now would oftentimes His chosen twelve
Take from the rest apart to tell them how
The Son of Man, oft so He named Himself,
Should be delivered up to the chief priests
And to the scribes, and be by them condemned
To death; and how the Gentiles in their turn
Should mock Him and should scourge Him and should spit
Upon Him and should kill Him; then how He
Should from the dead the third day rise again.
But they those sayings understood not then,
So simple and easy afterward, though strange.
Like a refrain recurring in a song,
Some sad refrain that lingers in the ear
Persistent through whatever else is sung,
So did these doubtful boding prophecies
Again and yet again, not understood,
At intervals return amid the strain
Of other teaching opulent and sweet
That flowed and flowed in changes without end,
Unending, from His lips. And all the while
Were miracles and signs, as by the way
And little reckoned, dropping from His hands
Like full-ripe fruit from an unconscious tree!
He looked so awful in His loneliness.
For He no longer with us walked; He walked
Before us, hasting to Jerusalem.
How steadfastly His face was thither set!
He as if saw the features of His hour
Coming out clearer and clearer, and always there!
He now would oftentimes His chosen twelve
Take from the rest apart to tell them how
The Son of Man, oft so He named Himself,
Should be delivered up to the chief priests
And to the scribes, and be by them condemned
To death; and how the Gentiles in their turn
Should mock Him and should scourge Him and should spit
Upon Him and should kill Him; then how He
Should from the dead the third day rise again.
But they those sayings understood not then,
So simple and easy afterward, though strange.
Like a refrain recurring in a song,
Some sad refrain that lingers in the ear
Persistent through whatever else is sung,
So did these doubtful boding prophecies
Again and yet again, not understood,
At intervals return amid the strain
Of other teaching opulent and sweet
That flowed and flowed in changes without end,
Unending, from His lips. And all the while
Were miracles and signs, as by the way
And little reckoned, dropping from His hands
Like full-ripe fruit from an unconscious tree!
"And so it came to pass that we at length
Were nigh to Bethphagé and Bethany.
Here resting, to a village opposite
Our Master sent to fetch an ass's colt
Appointed for His use, one virgin yet
Of touch from human rider to his back;
Thereon the lowly King sat Him to ride.
How little did what we saw follow look
Like the fulfilment of ill-boding words!
For now the people flung their garments down
Before Him in the way, they branches strewed
From trees on either side to keep the feet
Of even that ass's colt which He bestrode
From touching the base ground, the while a shout
Went up, one voice, from the great multitude
Before Him and behind Him where He rode,
'Hosanna to the Son of David! Lo,
Blesséd is He that cometh in the name
Of the Lord God! Hosanna in the highest!'
How little then to us, blind eyes, it looked
As if this march triumphal of our King
Was to a death of shame upon the cross!"
Were nigh to Bethphagé and Bethany.
Here resting, to a village opposite
Our Master sent to fetch an ass's colt
Appointed for His use, one virgin yet
Of touch from human rider to his back;
Thereon the lowly King sat Him to ride.
How little did what we saw follow look
Like the fulfilment of ill-boding words!
For now the people flung their garments down
Before Him in the way, they branches strewed
From trees on either side to keep the feet
Of even that ass's colt which He bestrode
From touching the base ground, the while a shout
Went up, one voice, from the great multitude
Before Him and behind Him where He rode,
'Hosanna to the Son of David! Lo,
Blesséd is He that cometh in the name
Of the Lord God! Hosanna in the highest!'
How little then to us, blind eyes, it looked
As if this march triumphal of our King
Was to a death of shame upon the cross!"
With wondering interruption Julius asked:
"But how, but wherefore, was it thus? No crime
Had Jesus done; and what suspicion even
Of crime intended by him could there lie
In any mortal's mind against a man
So wise so pure and so beneficent
As he was in the obvious view of all?"
He added: "I could understand how some,
Offended at his stern rebuke of them
Before the people, might in secret wish
His death, might plot it, and might compass it,
By private means of murder; but how one
Like Jesus should fall under law, be tried
In open forum as criminal, be found
Guilty, be sentenced, and be put to death,
All as in process due of justice, that
I cannot understand, that baffles me.
And under Roman rule and government!
For crucifixion seems to mean so much.
Perhaps some reason of state demanded it:
Justice must often yield to reasons of state."
"But how, but wherefore, was it thus? No crime
Had Jesus done; and what suspicion even
Of crime intended by him could there lie
In any mortal's mind against a man
So wise so pure and so beneficent
As he was in the obvious view of all?"
He added: "I could understand how some,
Offended at his stern rebuke of them
Before the people, might in secret wish
His death, might plot it, and might compass it,
By private means of murder; but how one
Like Jesus should fall under law, be tried
In open forum as criminal, be found
Guilty, be sentenced, and be put to death,
All as in process due of justice, that
I cannot understand, that baffles me.
And under Roman rule and government!
For crucifixion seems to mean so much.
Perhaps some reason of state demanded it:
Justice must often yield to reasons of state."
"A reason of state," said Paul, "was the pretext,
And but pretext it was, the real ground not.
With deep hypocrisy my nation came
And pleaded to thy nation against Him
Pretension on His part to be a king,
Saying, 'We have no king but Cæsar;' so
Falsely affecting loyalty to Rome,
And therewith falsely too attainting Him
Of treason in purpose to dispute with Cæsar
His claim of worldly lordship over them.
Thy nation, Julius, with full equal deep
Hypocrisy, believing the charge no more
Than they believed who brought it, washed its hands
Vainly of guilt, condemning innocent blood.
Jew joined with Gentile, Gentile joined with Jew,
In one conclusive act of wickedness,
That the whole world at once might before God
Be guilty of the death of Christ His Son;
Our sin it was that slew the Lamb of God!"
And but pretext it was, the real ground not.
With deep hypocrisy my nation came
And pleaded to thy nation against Him
Pretension on His part to be a king,
Saying, 'We have no king but Cæsar;' so
Falsely affecting loyalty to Rome,
And therewith falsely too attainting Him
Of treason in purpose to dispute with Cæsar
His claim of worldly lordship over them.
Thy nation, Julius, with full equal deep
Hypocrisy, believing the charge no more
Than they believed who brought it, washed its hands
Vainly of guilt, condemning innocent blood.
Jew joined with Gentile, Gentile joined with Jew,
In one conclusive act of wickedness,
That the whole world at once might before God
Be guilty of the death of Christ His Son;
Our sin it was that slew the Lamb of God!"
While the centurion hung confounded, dumb
With silence that half conscience-smitten seemed,
Pondering Paul's words, charged, heavy charged, with blame
Involving him too in complicity
Of guilt with the whole world for Jesus' death—
A messenger from Felix came once more;
This time to Julius with a letter sealed.
Julius, unready for intrusion such
Upon that moment's privacy of thought,
With petulant gesture broke the seal and read
These brusque words, which, though writ with other's hand,
Were self-shown straight from Felix's own heart;
No salutation, and no signature,
Ambages none of complaisance or form,
Frank unrelieved mock-kingly insolence,
Drusilla's phrase, but spirit Felix's:
"Does it become a Roman officer
Honored with grave responsibility
As thou art for the custody and safe
Conduct of arrant criminals to Rome,
To be consorting with the chief of these
In affable familiar intercourse?
How thinkest thou? If report were brought to Rome
Of such acquittal of the office thine,
Would it seem well? Dost thou judge nothing at all
Due from thee to the dignity of trust
Received from the august imperial hand?
Is such thy measure of the faith required
In one of Cæsar's deputies? Or thou
Perhaps at heart art Christian: ask thyself
If thine be a religio licita!
Apostate from the emperor to Christ
Am I to recognize in thee? Judge then
What duty will demand from me arrived
At Rome, me who am loyal still to him,
Nero Augustus Cæsar named with gods!"
With silence that half conscience-smitten seemed,
Pondering Paul's words, charged, heavy charged, with blame
Involving him too in complicity
Of guilt with the whole world for Jesus' death—
A messenger from Felix came once more;
This time to Julius with a letter sealed.
Julius, unready for intrusion such
Upon that moment's privacy of thought,
With petulant gesture broke the seal and read
These brusque words, which, though writ with other's hand,
Were self-shown straight from Felix's own heart;
No salutation, and no signature,
Ambages none of complaisance or form,
Frank unrelieved mock-kingly insolence,
Drusilla's phrase, but spirit Felix's:
"Does it become a Roman officer
Honored with grave responsibility
As thou art for the custody and safe
Conduct of arrant criminals to Rome,
To be consorting with the chief of these
In affable familiar intercourse?
How thinkest thou? If report were brought to Rome
Of such acquittal of the office thine,
Would it seem well? Dost thou judge nothing at all
Due from thee to the dignity of trust
Received from the august imperial hand?
Is such thy measure of the faith required
In one of Cæsar's deputies? Or thou
Perhaps at heart art Christian: ask thyself
If thine be a religio licita!
Apostate from the emperor to Christ
Am I to recognize in thee? Judge then
What duty will demand from me arrived
At Rome, me who am loyal still to him,
Nero Augustus Cæsar named with gods!"
These things read Julius with a knitted brow
That discomposure with resentment showed;
Then mastering himself to courtesy
Wherein some air of condescension played,
He made his peace by gesture without word,
And slowly, like one doubting, went away.
That discomposure with resentment showed;
Then mastering himself to courtesy
Wherein some air of condescension played,
He made his peace by gesture without word,
And slowly, like one doubting, went away.
With nothing said or signed to set in light
The meaning of the message thus conveyed,
Paul from the person of the messenger,
Well-known a slave of Felix's, divined
The meaning mischievous, but kept his thought
And only said: "With the centurion now
Our guest no longer, and the day so far
Declined from its meridian, meet perhaps
It were to let our interrupted tale
From Mary—thanks to whom once more we owe—
Rest till to-morrow, if to-morrow be
Ours, and the weather then still smile as now:
God will still smile, through weather fair or foul.
And now to God our Father blessing be,
From whom all blessing is, and to His Son,
And to the Holy Ghost. Amen!"
The meaning of the message thus conveyed,
Paul from the person of the messenger,
Well-known a slave of Felix's, divined
The meaning mischievous, but kept his thought
And only said: "With the centurion now
Our guest no longer, and the day so far
Declined from its meridian, meet perhaps
It were to let our interrupted tale
From Mary—thanks to whom once more we owe—
Rest till to-morrow, if to-morrow be
Ours, and the weather then still smile as now:
God will still smile, through weather fair or foul.
And now to God our Father blessing be,
From whom all blessing is, and to His Son,
And to the Holy Ghost. Amen!"
"Amen!"
They echoed all, with not even Krishna mute;
Then silently and solemnly withdrew.
They echoed all, with not even Krishna mute;
Then silently and solemnly withdrew.
BOOK XV.
YOUNG STEPHEN AND FELIX.
Drusilla has a confidential conference with Simon the sorcerer, now recovered, though still weak. He tempts her to think of ensnaring the emperor with her charms. He insinuates into her mind the idea of making away with Felix on the ground of his being an obstacle in her path to success With this in view, he forms suddenly a plot to convict Felix in his wife's eyes of infidelity to herself. He easily awakens Drusilla's jealousy, and she, with her own motives, enters into Simon's present proposals. Eunicé is accordingly invited to visit Drusilla as one repentant and desirous of being a Christian—Felix having meantime been filled by Simon with the notion that Eunicé is enamored of him, Felix. She comes with her mother to Felix's house, and the two are there entrapped; but at the crisis of danger they are rescued by young Stephen.
YOUNG STEPHEN AND FELIX.
That bland sweet weather changed to truculent
At sunset, and through all the winter night
Raged with wild wind and sleet of rain and hail.
The roofs, the doors, the casements, of the house
Where Felix and Drusilla sojourned, shook
As toward dilapidation of its frame.
Drusilla lay in terror of her life
Tossing upon her couch and could not sleep.
Brief intervals and lulls of tempest came;
But images of distant danger then
Mixed with the imminent menaces of the night.
So with the earliest morning—furious yet
The unabated rack of elements—
Drusilla sent for Simon, rallied now
Out of his low estate, and, tremulous
With weakness, through that very weakness made
More searchingly clairvoyant than his wont.
At sunset, and through all the winter night
Raged with wild wind and sleet of rain and hail.
The roofs, the doors, the casements, of the house
Where Felix and Drusilla sojourned, shook
As toward dilapidation of its frame.
Drusilla lay in terror of her life
Tossing upon her couch and could not sleep.
Brief intervals and lulls of tempest came;
But images of distant danger then
Mixed with the imminent menaces of the night.
So with the earliest morning—furious yet
The unabated rack of elements—
Drusilla sent for Simon, rallied now
Out of his low estate, and, tremulous
With weakness, through that very weakness made
More searchingly clairvoyant than his wont.
Untimely roused, and unrefreshed with sleep,
And shaken as still she was with panic fears,
The Jewess, ever conscious of herself
And proudly the more conscious now before
One whom she fain would hold her vassal, sat
Like a queen giving audience, well-arrayed,
Yet artfully in speaking seemed to plead.
"Simon," she said, "be once more my resource."
"Not once more, but an hundred hundred times,
Liege lady," Simon said, "if mine art serve."
"But, Simon, will it serve for no reward?"
Drusilla, not without some pathos, said;
Yet also not without some scrutiny
Of Simon, which that deep dissembler bore
Flinching, but scarcely flinching, as he said:
"My fortune I account bound up with thine."
"Yea, Simon, what through thee I gain," she said,
"Reckon that thou no less gainest through me.
As has been, is, our pact; art thou content?"
"More than content, most thankful," Simon said;
"I pray thee of conditions now no more,
But speak thy wishes; they shall be commands."
"Well, faithful Simon," wheedling now she spoke,
"That proud Drusilla thou once knewest in me,
Is abject in sheer sense of helplessness.
My lord is broken in spirit with lack of hope:
I stay him up, as best I may, to show
The world some front of kingly boldness yet,
But truth is, I am broken with staying him.
What can we do at Rome? How mend our case?
Friends have we few, and on the fallen thou knowest
Enemies swarm like flies on rotting flesh.
All is for sale at Rome, but who can buy
That goes barehanded thither, as do we?
Thou hast the truth; now, Simon, like the rest,
Leave us, as rats forsake a dooméd ship!"
"Thou pleasest to be facetious, O my queen,"
Said Simon; "thou barehanded never art,
Go where thou wilt, with beauty such as thine,
Such beauty, and such wit to use it well."
With pregnant ambiguity he spoke,
And deeply read the features of her face.
And shaken as still she was with panic fears,
The Jewess, ever conscious of herself
And proudly the more conscious now before
One whom she fain would hold her vassal, sat
Like a queen giving audience, well-arrayed,
Yet artfully in speaking seemed to plead.
"Simon," she said, "be once more my resource."
"Not once more, but an hundred hundred times,
Liege lady," Simon said, "if mine art serve."
"But, Simon, will it serve for no reward?"
Drusilla, not without some pathos, said;
Yet also not without some scrutiny
Of Simon, which that deep dissembler bore
Flinching, but scarcely flinching, as he said:
"My fortune I account bound up with thine."
"Yea, Simon, what through thee I gain," she said,
"Reckon that thou no less gainest through me.
As has been, is, our pact; art thou content?"
"More than content, most thankful," Simon said;
"I pray thee of conditions now no more,
But speak thy wishes; they shall be commands."
"Well, faithful Simon," wheedling now she spoke,
"That proud Drusilla thou once knewest in me,
Is abject in sheer sense of helplessness.
My lord is broken in spirit with lack of hope:
I stay him up, as best I may, to show
The world some front of kingly boldness yet,
But truth is, I am broken with staying him.
What can we do at Rome? How mend our case?
Friends have we few, and on the fallen thou knowest
Enemies swarm like flies on rotting flesh.
All is for sale at Rome, but who can buy
That goes barehanded thither, as do we?
Thou hast the truth; now, Simon, like the rest,
Leave us, as rats forsake a dooméd ship!"
"Thou pleasest to be facetious, O my queen,"
Said Simon; "thou barehanded never art,
Go where thou wilt, with beauty such as thine,
Such beauty, and such wit to use it well."
With pregnant ambiguity he spoke,
And deeply read the features of her face.
Those features molded nobly fair, but now
Through their disfiguring discomposure wronged,
Slowly regained the aspect clear and calm
Wherein the proud possessor long before
Learned that her sumptuous beauty best prevailed
To make her sovereign of the hearts of men:
Habit, with reminiscence of her past
Triumphs, usurped her mind that she forgot
Simon, the raging storm, her doubts and fears.
Simon considered his mistress at his ease;
He saw she was not flattered by his words
To be a childlike plaything in his hands;
He saw she was too haughty to resent,
Too haughty to acknowledge by word or sign,
Perhaps too haughty even to recognize
In her deep mind, much more in heart to feel,
Hint as conveyed by him in what he said
That in the marriage markets of the world
Such charms as hers were merchantable ware;
And that he Simon abode at her command
Loyally ready to renew for her,
On some august occasion still to seek,
That intermediary office his
Which once from King Azizus parted her
To make her of the Roman Felix spouse.
Through their disfiguring discomposure wronged,
Slowly regained the aspect clear and calm
Wherein the proud possessor long before
Learned that her sumptuous beauty best prevailed
To make her sovereign of the hearts of men:
Habit, with reminiscence of her past
Triumphs, usurped her mind that she forgot
Simon, the raging storm, her doubts and fears.
Simon considered his mistress at his ease;
He saw she was not flattered by his words
To be a childlike plaything in his hands;
He saw she was too haughty to resent,
Too haughty to acknowledge by word or sign,
Perhaps too haughty even to recognize
In her deep mind, much more in heart to feel,
Hint as conveyed by him in what he said
That in the marriage markets of the world
Such charms as hers were merchantable ware;
And that he Simon abode at her command
Loyally ready to renew for her,
On some august occasion still to seek,
That intermediary office his
Which once from King Azizus parted her
To make her of the Roman Felix spouse.
Drusilla in no manner made response;
But not less Simon knew his wish was sped;
He knew the Venus Victrix heart in her
Was flattering to the height her sense of power.
He could not err by over-audacity
In tempting this presumptuous woman's pride.
He ventured: "It were loyal service done
Thy husband, to whom loyal service thou
Already even to sacrifice hast done
In being his consort, thou a queen before,
And he"—'but lately raised from servile state,'
Simon would fain have said outright, to ease
The pressure of hate and scorn he felt for Felix,
But knew he must no more than thus arrest
That word upon the point of utterance caught—
"It were I say, well-weighed, a service to him
If thou shouldst wake the matchless power thou hast
Of kindling admiration and desire,
To exercise it in supreme assay
At the tribunal where he must be judged,
Making the judge himself thy willing thrall!"
But not less Simon knew his wish was sped;
He knew the Venus Victrix heart in her
Was flattering to the height her sense of power.
He could not err by over-audacity
In tempting this presumptuous woman's pride.
He ventured: "It were loyal service done
Thy husband, to whom loyal service thou
Already even to sacrifice hast done
In being his consort, thou a queen before,
And he"—'but lately raised from servile state,'
Simon would fain have said outright, to ease
The pressure of hate and scorn he felt for Felix,
But knew he must no more than thus arrest
That word upon the point of utterance caught—
"It were I say, well-weighed, a service to him
If thou shouldst wake the matchless power thou hast
Of kindling admiration and desire,
To exercise it in supreme assay
At the tribunal where he must be judged,
Making the judge himself thy willing thrall!"
The subtle sorcerer watched with wary eye
Askance, to see his mistress give at this
Some sign of pleased and startled vanity:
Impassible placidity he saw—
Serene, withdrawn, uninterrupted muse.
A little disconcerted, he bode mute,
Half glad in hope that he had not been heard.
When at length she, that queenly creature, broke,
Herself, with speech the growing spell of awe
He felt upon him cast by her supreme
Beauty suspense in its august repose,
Its silence and reserve and mystery,
Then Simon knew that she had been before
Him with the soaring thought of Nero led—
The emperor of the world in triumph led—
A captive at Drusilla's chariot wheels!
A flash of light invaded Simon's mind:
'Were there not hidden here the way long sought
To free himself from the abhorréd yoke
Of Felix? This bold woman would not stick
At putting such an obstacle as was
A husband such as he, out of her path—
This by whatever means—a path that led
Steep to enthronement by the emperor's side.'
Thenceforward Felix's worst foe was one
Of his own household at his table fed.
Askance, to see his mistress give at this
Some sign of pleased and startled vanity:
Impassible placidity he saw—
Serene, withdrawn, uninterrupted muse.
A little disconcerted, he bode mute,
Half glad in hope that he had not been heard.
When at length she, that queenly creature, broke,
Herself, with speech the growing spell of awe
He felt upon him cast by her supreme
Beauty suspense in its august repose,
Its silence and reserve and mystery,
Then Simon knew that she had been before
Him with the soaring thought of Nero led—
The emperor of the world in triumph led—
A captive at Drusilla's chariot wheels!
A flash of light invaded Simon's mind:
'Were there not hidden here the way long sought
To free himself from the abhorréd yoke
Of Felix? This bold woman would not stick
At putting such an obstacle as was
A husband such as he, out of her path—
This by whatever means—a path that led
Steep to enthronement by the emperor's side.'
Thenceforward Felix's worst foe was one
Of his own household at his table fed.
"The emperor is a bloody man, if true
Be all, be half, that they report of him—"
Drusilla thus, as in soliloquy
Rather than in discourse to ear addressed,
Spoke slowly—"he, the latest story goes
Sped like a shudder of horror around the world,
Has got his mother slain, bunglingly drowned
By accident forsooth, at his command—
Accident such as asks design to chance,
A vessel foundering in a placid sea,
On a serene and starry summer night—
And after all not drowned, even awkwardly,
But rescued to be stabbed, with mother's cry
First from her lips, 'I never will believe
This of my son!' but then with, 'Strike me here!'
Confessing that she knew it was her son!
And his young queen Octavia, silly sweet,
And good, and pure, and fair, and amiable,
And in short all a Roman emperor's spouse
Should not be—she, they say, leads a slave's life,
Or worse, amid her husband's palace scorned,
And happy if at last only with death
And not with shame he rid her from his side."
Be all, be half, that they report of him—"
Drusilla thus, as in soliloquy
Rather than in discourse to ear addressed,
Spoke slowly—"he, the latest story goes
Sped like a shudder of horror around the world,
Has got his mother slain, bunglingly drowned
By accident forsooth, at his command—
Accident such as asks design to chance,
A vessel foundering in a placid sea,
On a serene and starry summer night—
And after all not drowned, even awkwardly,
But rescued to be stabbed, with mother's cry
First from her lips, 'I never will believe
This of my son!' but then with, 'Strike me here!'
Confessing that she knew it was her son!
And his young queen Octavia, silly sweet,
And good, and pure, and fair, and amiable,
And in short all a Roman emperor's spouse
Should not be—she, they say, leads a slave's life,
Or worse, amid her husband's palace scorned,
And happy if at last only with death
And not with shame he rid her from his side."
Thus speaking, his bold mistress, Simon knew,
Called up deterrent thoughts so formidable,
Not to succumb before them shocked, appalled,
But to confront them fairly, know them well,
Then with defiance triumph over them.
Still, with slant thrust at Felix in his thought,
He dared a word of double-edged reply:
"Emperors, and those however now ill-placed
Yet worthy to be empresses, are free
To seek their consorts, consorts true I mean,
Wherever they can find them in the world;
And obstacles must not be obstacles
To them; their pathway must somehow be cleared.
Such, one may all too easily judge amiss.
Wait till thou see the emperor fitly wed!
That emperor-mother Agrippina balked
Her boy too often of his wish. She would
Be empress of the emperor of the world;
Her blood in him made this impossible:
It was her folly and crime invoked her fall.
As for that young Octavia—thou hast said."
Called up deterrent thoughts so formidable,
Not to succumb before them shocked, appalled,
But to confront them fairly, know them well,
Then with defiance triumph over them.
Still, with slant thrust at Felix in his thought,
He dared a word of double-edged reply:
"Emperors, and those however now ill-placed
Yet worthy to be empresses, are free
To seek their consorts, consorts true I mean,
Wherever they can find them in the world;
And obstacles must not be obstacles
To them; their pathway must somehow be cleared.
Such, one may all too easily judge amiss.
Wait till thou see the emperor fitly wed!
That emperor-mother Agrippina balked
Her boy too often of his wish. She would
Be empress of the emperor of the world;
Her blood in him made this impossible:
It was her folly and crime invoked her fall.
As for that young Octavia—thou hast said."
"Poppæa"—so Drusilla had resumed,
But Simon rashly took the word from her:
"Poppæa is a rival to be weighed
Doubtless—highborn, and beautiful, and deep
In cunning, and sure mistress of herself—
As art not thou too, and full equally?—
But then she has a husband in the way,
And is she of the stuff to deal with him?"
But Simon rashly took the word from her:
"Poppæa is a rival to be weighed
Doubtless—highborn, and beautiful, and deep
In cunning, and sure mistress of herself—
As art not thou too, and full equally?—
But then she has a husband in the way,
And is she of the stuff to deal with him?"
Simon's hatred of his lord had pricked him on
Beyond the mark of prudence; he recoiled
From his own words before Drusilla spoke,
And added, for diversion of her thought:
"But doubtless thou wilt need to buy thy way
To opportunity at Rome; betimes
Prepare thee bribes to drop along thy path.
Our Gentile brethren have a pretty tale"—
And Simon with sarcastic humor leered—
"Of how a runner once upon a time
Won him a famous race by letting fall
Gold apples on the course too tempting bright
Not to delay his rival gathering them.
Provide thyself with apples of gold to drop,
While thou art speeding featly to thy goal."
"Gold, Simon!" Drusilla said, "thou teasest me,
Too well thou knowest I have no gold; our store
Was swallowed all in that devouring sea."
"I speak in figure, my lady," Simon said;
"I mean neither literal apples nor literal gold."
"Pray, no more parable to me," severe
With air resumed once more of queen enthroned,
Drusilla answered, and, with only look,
As haughtily disdaining further word,
Demanded that he make his meaning plain.
Simon, with indirection sly, replied:
"Hast thou remarked the daily opening bloom
Of beauty in the face, and in the form,
Of that Eunicé, our young countrywoman?"
Beyond the mark of prudence; he recoiled
From his own words before Drusilla spoke,
And added, for diversion of her thought:
"But doubtless thou wilt need to buy thy way
To opportunity at Rome; betimes
Prepare thee bribes to drop along thy path.
Our Gentile brethren have a pretty tale"—
And Simon with sarcastic humor leered—
"Of how a runner once upon a time
Won him a famous race by letting fall
Gold apples on the course too tempting bright
Not to delay his rival gathering them.
Provide thyself with apples of gold to drop,
While thou art speeding featly to thy goal."
"Gold, Simon!" Drusilla said, "thou teasest me,
Too well thou knowest I have no gold; our store
Was swallowed all in that devouring sea."
"I speak in figure, my lady," Simon said;
"I mean neither literal apples nor literal gold."
"Pray, no more parable to me," severe
With air resumed once more of queen enthroned,
Drusilla answered, and, with only look,
As haughtily disdaining further word,
Demanded that he make his meaning plain.
Simon, with indirection sly, replied:
"Hast thou remarked the daily opening bloom
Of beauty in the face, and in the form,
Of that Eunicé, our young countrywoman?"
Drusilla gave a fiercely jealous start—
On Simon, eagerly alert, not lost,
Brief though it was, and instantly subdued;
It was as instantly interpreted—
A welcomed effect, though calculated not.
She had recalled what late she overheard
Hinted from Felix to the prisoner Paul,
"Unless indeed thy pretty countrywoman"—
And construed it as meaning that his eye,
Her husband's, had been levying on the maid.
"Women are not like men to note such things,"
Drusilla answered with a frigid air,
Yet not as with unwillingness to learn
What sequel there might be in Simon's thought.
That sequel Simon changed to suit the case
He had now created unexpectedly.
He would torment Drusilla's jealous mind,
And whet her temper to the proper edge
For helpful quarrel with that spouse of hers
So hateful to him.
On Simon, eagerly alert, not lost,
Brief though it was, and instantly subdued;
It was as instantly interpreted—
A welcomed effect, though calculated not.
She had recalled what late she overheard
Hinted from Felix to the prisoner Paul,
"Unless indeed thy pretty countrywoman"—
And construed it as meaning that his eye,
Her husband's, had been levying on the maid.
"Women are not like men to note such things,"
Drusilla answered with a frigid air,
Yet not as with unwillingness to learn
What sequel there might be in Simon's thought.
That sequel Simon changed to suit the case
He had now created unexpectedly.
He would torment Drusilla's jealous mind,
And whet her temper to the proper edge
For helpful quarrel with that spouse of hers
So hateful to him.
"Women that are wives,"
Said Simon, "well might condescend to pay
Some heed to such things! But the present need
Is to have bribes in hand of the right sort
To lavish where occasion may arise
When we reach Rome. Try if thou canst not gain
This pretty damsel for our purposes.
Play patroness to her, have her at court
Here—for wherever the true queen is, there
Is court, though in a desert—flatter her,
And ply her to thy will. Arrived at Rome,
Where all is venal yet venal not all for gold,
Offer her as likest seems to serve thy cause.
There is my scheme for thee; and thy lord will,
I doubt not, wink at least to forward it."
Simon could not forbear the tempting chance
To end, as he began, with what would bait
Further Drusilla's flushed and jealous mind.
Said Simon, "well might condescend to pay
Some heed to such things! But the present need
Is to have bribes in hand of the right sort
To lavish where occasion may arise
When we reach Rome. Try if thou canst not gain
This pretty damsel for our purposes.
Play patroness to her, have her at court
Here—for wherever the true queen is, there
Is court, though in a desert—flatter her,
And ply her to thy will. Arrived at Rome,
Where all is venal yet venal not all for gold,
Offer her as likest seems to serve thy cause.
There is my scheme for thee; and thy lord will,
I doubt not, wink at least to forward it."
Simon could not forbear the tempting chance
To end, as he began, with what would bait
Further Drusilla's flushed and jealous mind.
'Is Simon playing me false in a deep game
To serve lord Felix at his wife's expense?'
Drusilla wondered; 'would he dare so far?
Does he even seek to make a tool of me?
Of me, Drusilla, make a pliant tool—
I serve their turn forsooth against myself?
Be it so, and let them trow their plotting speeds!
I will try to be as simple as they could wish.'
In secret with herself she wondered thus;
But spoke aloud with cleared and brightened look:
"The storm, I see, which I had quite forgot,
Thanks to the charms of thy society,
Is much abated; let us break our fast,
And then go thou and bid her hither to me,
That pretty child. Tell her I need her much,
For I am deeply sorry for my sins,
And think that, with a little guide like her
To take me by the hand and lead me right,
I could forsake them all and follow with her
Henceforward, a true sister in the faith.
A little lure of harmless simple hope
To win a wicked woman from her ways,
I think thou wilt find useful with the maid,
If, as is likely, she be loth to come."
To serve lord Felix at his wife's expense?'
Drusilla wondered; 'would he dare so far?
Does he even seek to make a tool of me?
Of me, Drusilla, make a pliant tool—
I serve their turn forsooth against myself?
Be it so, and let them trow their plotting speeds!
I will try to be as simple as they could wish.'
In secret with herself she wondered thus;
But spoke aloud with cleared and brightened look:
"The storm, I see, which I had quite forgot,
Thanks to the charms of thy society,
Is much abated; let us break our fast,
And then go thou and bid her hither to me,
That pretty child. Tell her I need her much,
For I am deeply sorry for my sins,
And think that, with a little guide like her
To take me by the hand and lead me right,
I could forsake them all and follow with her
Henceforward, a true sister in the faith.
A little lure of harmless simple hope
To win a wicked woman from her ways,
I think thou wilt find useful with the maid,
If, as is likely, she be loth to come."
Felix, Drusilla, and the sorcerer
That morning at their simple meal reclined
Together in a show of amity;
But inwardly it was a state of feud
Or hollow truce of armed hypocrisy.
Eating in silence with small appetite,
Their breakfast soon they ended; Simon then
Withdrew and did his errand. He did more;
For having perforce to meet the mother too,
Whose daughter was seen ever at her side,
He feigned to be himself a penitent,
Protesting his belief that he was healed,
Unworthy to be healed, because Paul came
But near him where he lay sick in his bed;
And this although he had wickedly refused
To see Paul and to suffer Paul's hands on him.
He said his mistress was afraid, as he
Was too, of Felix; both of them must move
Warily, no suspicion to excite
In one so irritable and so violent.
They therefore could not ask for Paul to come,
Or indeed any man among Paul's friends.
But Ruth might safely come and bring the maid
Her daughter. Simon begged the matron would
Kindly indulge Drusilla's preference,
Caprice perhaps it was, for making her child
And not herself—senior, and so more wise
Doubtless—her chosen guide and confidant.
Eunicé's youth had won Drusilla's heart.
That morning at their simple meal reclined
Together in a show of amity;
But inwardly it was a state of feud
Or hollow truce of armed hypocrisy.
Eating in silence with small appetite,
Their breakfast soon they ended; Simon then
Withdrew and did his errand. He did more;
For having perforce to meet the mother too,
Whose daughter was seen ever at her side,
He feigned to be himself a penitent,
Protesting his belief that he was healed,
Unworthy to be healed, because Paul came
But near him where he lay sick in his bed;
And this although he had wickedly refused
To see Paul and to suffer Paul's hands on him.
He said his mistress was afraid, as he
Was too, of Felix; both of them must move
Warily, no suspicion to excite
In one so irritable and so violent.
They therefore could not ask for Paul to come,
Or indeed any man among Paul's friends.
But Ruth might safely come and bring the maid
Her daughter. Simon begged the matron would
Kindly indulge Drusilla's preference,
Caprice perhaps it was, for making her child
And not herself—senior, and so more wise
Doubtless—her chosen guide and confidant.
Eunicé's youth had won Drusilla's heart.
All Simon's plausible art could not prevail
To gain from Ruth the promise he desired;
She only told him she would ponder well
What he had said and do as wisest seemed.
But Simon, cheering himself that in the end
Ruth by the tempting bait held out to her,
The hope of doing good, would be enticed,
Went straight to Felix, and with many a wink
Of sly salacious import hinted to him
That he, his master, had quite unawares,
With just his manly martial front and port,
Taken captive a fair Hebrew damsel who,
If all sped as he hoped, would soon appear
There at the mansion, by her mother led,
To feed her fancy on his noble looks.
The simple mother, she knew nothing of it,
But came to visit Drusilla in the hope,
Which, naughty child! the daughter had inspired
Of gaining my lady over to the faith.
Should Felix condescend to speak to her
The maid would be all blushes, that of course,
She coyly would insist she only came
Bearing her mother company to wait
Upon the mistress of the house with her.
Felix would understand how much was meant,
Or rather how little, by the pretty airs
And arch pretexts of feminine coquetry.
To gain from Ruth the promise he desired;
She only told him she would ponder well
What he had said and do as wisest seemed.
But Simon, cheering himself that in the end
Ruth by the tempting bait held out to her,
The hope of doing good, would be enticed,
Went straight to Felix, and with many a wink
Of sly salacious import hinted to him
That he, his master, had quite unawares,
With just his manly martial front and port,
Taken captive a fair Hebrew damsel who,
If all sped as he hoped, would soon appear
There at the mansion, by her mother led,
To feed her fancy on his noble looks.
The simple mother, she knew nothing of it,
But came to visit Drusilla in the hope,
Which, naughty child! the daughter had inspired
Of gaining my lady over to the faith.
Should Felix condescend to speak to her
The maid would be all blushes, that of course,
She coyly would insist she only came
Bearing her mother company to wait
Upon the mistress of the house with her.
Felix would understand how much was meant,
Or rather how little, by the pretty airs
And arch pretexts of feminine coquetry.
It was as Simon hoped: Ruth, overcome
In prudence by her generous desire
To serve a soul in need; some natural zeal
Perhaps commingling to bring home such spoil
Of her Eunicé's winning, a surprise
And joy to Paul and all the rest—so led,
Ruth with Eunicé to Drusilla went.
But not alone; Stephen their counsel shared,
And he, deeply misdoubting of it all,
Went with them. In the inner court he stayed,
Awaiting watchful, eye and ear, while they,
Having with all obeisance been received
And ushered inward by the instructed slave,
Should do their errand with the mistress there.
He was disturbed, when Felix, with a scowl
Askance at him, crossing the court in haste
Followed the women through the selfsame door,
Scarce shut behind them ere he entered too.
In prudence by her generous desire
To serve a soul in need; some natural zeal
Perhaps commingling to bring home such spoil
Of her Eunicé's winning, a surprise
And joy to Paul and all the rest—so led,
Ruth with Eunicé to Drusilla went.
But not alone; Stephen their counsel shared,
And he, deeply misdoubting of it all,
Went with them. In the inner court he stayed,
Awaiting watchful, eye and ear, while they,
Having with all obeisance been received
And ushered inward by the instructed slave,
Should do their errand with the mistress there.
He was disturbed, when Felix, with a scowl
Askance at him, crossing the court in haste
Followed the women through the selfsame door,
Scarce shut behind them ere he entered too.
It was of her astute design and art,
Drusilla's, that her husband should have scope
To show at full in act before her eyes
What ground of truth there was for Simon's hints
Against his faith to her. She had hid herself,
Not to be seen but see, while in the room
Whither the women were ushered Felix might,
Were such his mind, waylay the pretty maid,
Proving himself what Simon would have him be.
Drusilla's, that her husband should have scope
To show at full in act before her eyes
What ground of truth there was for Simon's hints
Against his faith to her. She had hid herself,
Not to be seen but see, while in the room
Whither the women were ushered Felix might,
Were such his mind, waylay the pretty maid,
Proving himself what Simon would have him be.
"Thou with thy daughter, madam, art well come;
These are dull days in Melita for us,"
So, with a gross familiar air ill masked
In mock of supercilious courtesy,
Felix to Ruth; who noticed with dismay
That servitor and servitress at once,
As if at silent signal unperceived,
Vanished from presence and left her alone,
Her and Eunicé, no Drusilla seen,
With Felix and his bristling insolence.
Her fears were not allayed when Felix said
Further: "My lady will be glad to see
Thee, madam, for she dies of weariness
In this insufferable place, with naught
Of new to while the endless hours away;
But as for this our pretty little maid,
She shall accept my awkward offices
To entertain her, while her mother waits
Apart on dame Drusilla and chats with her."
So saying, he stepped to the half-open door
And clapped his hands in summons for a slave.
One quickly answered, and the master said:
"Where is thy mistress? Take this madam to her,"
Pointing to Ruth.
These are dull days in Melita for us,"
So, with a gross familiar air ill masked
In mock of supercilious courtesy,
Felix to Ruth; who noticed with dismay
That servitor and servitress at once,
As if at silent signal unperceived,
Vanished from presence and left her alone,
Her and Eunicé, no Drusilla seen,
With Felix and his bristling insolence.
Her fears were not allayed when Felix said
Further: "My lady will be glad to see
Thee, madam, for she dies of weariness
In this insufferable place, with naught
Of new to while the endless hours away;
But as for this our pretty little maid,
She shall accept my awkward offices
To entertain her, while her mother waits
Apart on dame Drusilla and chats with her."
So saying, he stepped to the half-open door
And clapped his hands in summons for a slave.
One quickly answered, and the master said:
"Where is thy mistress? Take this madam to her,"
Pointing to Ruth.
Ruth in a whirl of thought
Wondered, 'Are these things all a wicked wile
Of Simon's to entrap us here? Does she,
Drusilla, too, collude? Or does she know
Nothing of all? Or, knowing, does she fear
Felix, and therefore leave us helpless thus?
How far may I abiding true to her
Involve Drusilla in a plea to him?'
She stood, not stirring at the servant's beck,
And spoke in tones held clear and firm with will:
"It is my daughter, sir, the errand has
With dame Drusilla. She shall go to her,
And as the custom is between us twain
We will together go, for twain with us
Is one. Dismiss us, then, I pray, to go."
"Thou art hard-hearted, madam," Felix said;
"One surely is enough to meet the dame
Drusilla, and the other might solace me.
I pay my lady's taste a compliment
In myself choosing for my company,
As seems she chose for hers, thy daughter fair
Rather than thee; for, without prejudice
To thine own comeliness, thy daughter is,
Thou wilt confess it, madam, nay, with pride,
A trifle fresher in her youthful bloom."
Wondered, 'Are these things all a wicked wile
Of Simon's to entrap us here? Does she,
Drusilla, too, collude? Or does she know
Nothing of all? Or, knowing, does she fear
Felix, and therefore leave us helpless thus?
How far may I abiding true to her
Involve Drusilla in a plea to him?'
She stood, not stirring at the servant's beck,
And spoke in tones held clear and firm with will:
"It is my daughter, sir, the errand has
With dame Drusilla. She shall go to her,
And as the custom is between us twain
We will together go, for twain with us
Is one. Dismiss us, then, I pray, to go."
"Thou art hard-hearted, madam," Felix said;
"One surely is enough to meet the dame
Drusilla, and the other might solace me.
I pay my lady's taste a compliment
In myself choosing for my company,
As seems she chose for hers, thy daughter fair
Rather than thee; for, without prejudice
To thine own comeliness, thy daughter is,
Thou wilt confess it, madam, nay, with pride,
A trifle fresher in her youthful bloom."
Eunicé standing by her mother glowed
With an indignant shame sublimely fair;
It kindled up her beauty into flame
Dreadful to see, had he who saw it been
But capable of awe from virtue shown
Lovelier with noble wrath; Felix admired
Only more fiercely and was not afraid.
With an indignant shame sublimely fair;
It kindled up her beauty into flame
Dreadful to see, had he who saw it been
But capable of awe from virtue shown
Lovelier with noble wrath; Felix admired
Only more fiercely and was not afraid.
A flash of movement instant changed the scene.
Stephen, who, through the door left open, caught
Felix's first ominous words of insolence,
Had, winging his feet with his suspicious fears,
Fled out into the open—whither, scarce thought—
Yet with instinctive wish that went to Paul.
He chanced on Aristarchus walking nigh,
In solitary muse, after his wont;
Him, with such instance as spared needless words,
He hurried forth to find and fetch back Paul.
Returning he dashed swiftly through the court,
Avoiding who perhaps with servile sloth
Reluctant might have moved to stay him there,
And through the door where his Eunicé was
Defenceless in that ruthless robber's den.
Stephen, who, through the door left open, caught
Felix's first ominous words of insolence,
Had, winging his feet with his suspicious fears,
Fled out into the open—whither, scarce thought—
Yet with instinctive wish that went to Paul.
He chanced on Aristarchus walking nigh,
In solitary muse, after his wont;
Him, with such instance as spared needless words,
He hurried forth to find and fetch back Paul.
Returning he dashed swiftly through the court,
Avoiding who perhaps with servile sloth
Reluctant might have moved to stay him there,
And through the door where his Eunicé was
Defenceless in that ruthless robber's den.
The youth's ear, quivering quick with jealous love,
Snatched Felix's last words, his ravening eye
Seized on the splendid vision of his bride
Betrothed, gleaming there in her loveliness
Illumined so with virtue and with shame
Beside her mother, facing such a foe!
His instinct was far swifter than his thought;
Counting not odds, not deeming there was odds,
He like an arrow from a bow that twanged
Shot into place between his bride and him,
That spoiler, and there stood. His face he turned
Defiantly on Felix, lightning of scorn
In sheafs of flashes shooting from his eyes,
Distended his fine nostrils with disdain,
His right arm raised in gesture to forefend,
And his light frame a-quiver with repose
Of purpose to dare all and to prevail.
Snatched Felix's last words, his ravening eye
Seized on the splendid vision of his bride
Betrothed, gleaming there in her loveliness
Illumined so with virtue and with shame
Beside her mother, facing such a foe!
His instinct was far swifter than his thought;
Counting not odds, not deeming there was odds,
He like an arrow from a bow that twanged
Shot into place between his bride and him,
That spoiler, and there stood. His face he turned
Defiantly on Felix, lightning of scorn
In sheafs of flashes shooting from his eyes,
Distended his fine nostrils with disdain,
His right arm raised in gesture to forefend,
And his light frame a-quiver with repose
Of purpose to dare all and to prevail.
It was a duel of silence betwixt those twain,
That slender youth through whose translucent flesh
Blushed the bright blood of innocence and truth.
That burly man corrupt in every vein
With the thick fœcal currents of debauch.
Ruth and Eunicé would not cower or cry:
Eunicé's spirit partook of that high strain
Which was her martyr father's, and she now
Triumphed to see transfigured to more fair
Than ever with his glorious hardihood
The youth that worthily bore her father's name
And worthily held the empire of her heart.
In confidence of Stephen which subtly too
Wrought to make him more confident of himself,
Eunicé stood confronting the event.
That slender youth through whose translucent flesh
Blushed the bright blood of innocence and truth.
That burly man corrupt in every vein
With the thick fœcal currents of debauch.
Ruth and Eunicé would not cower or cry:
Eunicé's spirit partook of that high strain
Which was her martyr father's, and she now
Triumphed to see transfigured to more fair
Than ever with his glorious hardihood
The youth that worthily bore her father's name
And worthily held the empire of her heart.
In confidence of Stephen which subtly too
Wrought to make him more confident of himself,
Eunicé stood confronting the event.
Felix succumbed and was the first to speak:
"Well, youngster, thou hast struck an attitude!
What wilt thou? And what doest thou here? Knowest not
Thou beardest thus the lion in his lair?"
Felix's air of pride and lordliness
Was ever such flatulent swell of windy words.
Stephen some space disdained him loftily
With dumb and blank refusal of reply;
Then grudged him this: "I into the wolf's den
Enter to rend the ravin from his paw."
The youth thus having spoken half-way turned
Toward the two women and with instant voice,
Low-toned yet less to be inaudible
To Felix than for intimate passion of love,
Said: "Haste, fly! I will follow as I may."
"Well, youngster, thou hast struck an attitude!
What wilt thou? And what doest thou here? Knowest not
Thou beardest thus the lion in his lair?"
Felix's air of pride and lordliness
Was ever such flatulent swell of windy words.
Stephen some space disdained him loftily
With dumb and blank refusal of reply;
Then grudged him this: "I into the wolf's den
Enter to rend the ravin from his paw."
The youth thus having spoken half-way turned
Toward the two women and with instant voice,
Low-toned yet less to be inaudible
To Felix than for intimate passion of love,
Said: "Haste, fly! I will follow as I may."
Ruth with Eunicé had not reached the door
When, frantic to be balked of his desire,
Felix lunged after them with lusty stride
Seeking to stay the damsel in her flight.
For all her fear she still forbore to cry,
But could not check her impulse of appeal
To Stephen, and she uttered forth his name.
The eager agile stripling had no need
To hear that call from his belovéd; he,
Already at her side, had, with clenched fist,
Which flashing like a scimitar came down,
Smitten Felix on the forearm with such might
That for the moment it was numbed with pain,
And dropped as palsied from its reach for her.
Eunicé with backhanded movement quick
Seized, as she flew following her mother forth,
On Stephen's girdle behind her and drew him,
Willingly led in that captivity,
To share their flight and rescue from their foe.
When, frantic to be balked of his desire,
Felix lunged after them with lusty stride
Seeking to stay the damsel in her flight.
For all her fear she still forbore to cry,
But could not check her impulse of appeal
To Stephen, and she uttered forth his name.
The eager agile stripling had no need
To hear that call from his belovéd; he,
Already at her side, had, with clenched fist,
Which flashing like a scimitar came down,
Smitten Felix on the forearm with such might
That for the moment it was numbed with pain,
And dropped as palsied from its reach for her.
Eunicé with backhanded movement quick
Seized, as she flew following her mother forth,
On Stephen's girdle behind her and drew him,
Willingly led in that captivity,
To share their flight and rescue from their foe.
Beside himself with rage at his defeat,
And aching still with pain from Stephen's blow,
Felix now stamped and shouted: "Slaves! What, ho!
Rascals, where are ye all?" Some, trembling, came,
But ere their master could possess his wits
To give them orders, Paul before him stood.
Worse crazed at that sight, Felix fiercely cried:
"Him! Him! Are ye all blind? Seize him, I say!"
Betwixt their terror of Felix and their awe
Of Paul, august in his unmovéd calm
And venerable with virtue and with age,
Well-known to them besides as one who wrought
With other power than mortal, the poor slaves
Hung helpless to perform their master's hest.
"These do not need to seize me, here I am,"
Said Paul, "and of no mind to fly; I came
Hastily summoned as to some distress
Here, what I know not, that I might relieve."
"Smite him upon the mouth," Felix broke forth,
"And make him feel distress to need relief!"
The freedman's truculence waxed with every word,
And swaggering forward he his hand upraised
As if himself to strike the blow he bade;
When, with a maniple of soldiers armed
Accompanied, Julius the centurion stood
Abruptly at the door.
And aching still with pain from Stephen's blow,
Felix now stamped and shouted: "Slaves! What, ho!
Rascals, where are ye all?" Some, trembling, came,
But ere their master could possess his wits
To give them orders, Paul before him stood.
Worse crazed at that sight, Felix fiercely cried:
"Him! Him! Are ye all blind? Seize him, I say!"
Betwixt their terror of Felix and their awe
Of Paul, august in his unmovéd calm
And venerable with virtue and with age,
Well-known to them besides as one who wrought
With other power than mortal, the poor slaves
Hung helpless to perform their master's hest.
"These do not need to seize me, here I am,"
Said Paul, "and of no mind to fly; I came
Hastily summoned as to some distress
Here, what I know not, that I might relieve."
"Smite him upon the mouth," Felix broke forth,
"And make him feel distress to need relief!"
The freedman's truculence waxed with every word,
And swaggering forward he his hand upraised
As if himself to strike the blow he bade;
When, with a maniple of soldiers armed
Accompanied, Julius the centurion stood
Abruptly at the door.
Stephen with his charge
Had met the band of soldiers on their way
Just as, with circumspection looking back,
He saw Paul, by a different path arrived,
And earlier, enter at Felix's abode.
He quickly acted on a counsel new.
For, with a farewell of, "Now ye are safe,
Yet hie ye to the uttermost remove
From Felix," to the women spoken, he
Turning walked back with Julius who his pace
Now slacked to listen while the stripling told
What had befallen and how he feared for Paul
Imperilled in that violent house alone.
Had met the band of soldiers on their way
Just as, with circumspection looking back,
He saw Paul, by a different path arrived,
And earlier, enter at Felix's abode.
He quickly acted on a counsel new.
For, with a farewell of, "Now ye are safe,
Yet hie ye to the uttermost remove
From Felix," to the women spoken, he
Turning walked back with Julius who his pace
Now slacked to listen while the stripling told
What had befallen and how he feared for Paul
Imperilled in that violent house alone.
"Come in good time, however hither called,"
Felix to Julius said, with such a tone
As seemed to ask how he was thither called.
"Thy servant Syrus begged that I would come,"
Said Julius, "for the safety of thy house
Endangered by two women and a boy,
Who had found entrance and were threatening thee."
In truth, that sly young slave of Felix's—
For reason ill-affected toward his lord,
As much enamored of the Christian folk
For their fair manners, and the comely looks
Of some of them, and the beneficent
Working of wonders seen or heard from Paul—
Had summoned Julius in the true behoof
Of Ruth with her Eunicé and of Stephen;
This, shrewdly under guise of service shown
His master. Julius understood the guile
And humored it, while Felix's thick wits
Spread ample cover to render Syrus safe.
"Of course," so Julius added, "it had not seemed
Needful to come, but that I also heard
A prisoner of my charge would here be found,
For whose safe keeping I am answerable."
Then glancing in a kindly neutral way
At Stephen, he, with show of grave rebuke
That could not wholly hide his lively sense
Of whimsical humor in the part he played
As mediator in such case, went on:
"This Hebrew youth confesses that, in haste
Of spirit, he offered thee some disrespect."
With language purposely made light and vague
Thus the centurion glozed Stephen's offence,
Discreetly shunning to let Felix know
That he knew from the offender's own report
How, for good cause, as to a happy end,
The indignant youth inflicted on him there
The shame and anguish of that timely blow.
"What wilt thou, my lord Felix," Julius asked,
"Wilt thou forgive the lad outright? Or pleasest
Thou rather I condignly deal with him?"
It was astutely so proposed, to save
Appearances to Felix and for him.
Gross-witted as he was, he yet was proud,
And such end of the incident appeared
At once some homage to his dignity
And an escape unhoped from threatened shame.
He condescended loftily to leave
The case of Stephen in the centurion's hands;
And the centurion presently retired
With Paul and Stephen both. Stephen he bade
See to it that he never thenceforth act
Less worthily of himself than he that day
Had done, and with no other reprimand
Dismissed him to rejoin his company.
Felix to Julius said, with such a tone
As seemed to ask how he was thither called.
"Thy servant Syrus begged that I would come,"
Said Julius, "for the safety of thy house
Endangered by two women and a boy,
Who had found entrance and were threatening thee."
In truth, that sly young slave of Felix's—
For reason ill-affected toward his lord,
As much enamored of the Christian folk
For their fair manners, and the comely looks
Of some of them, and the beneficent
Working of wonders seen or heard from Paul—
Had summoned Julius in the true behoof
Of Ruth with her Eunicé and of Stephen;
This, shrewdly under guise of service shown
His master. Julius understood the guile
And humored it, while Felix's thick wits
Spread ample cover to render Syrus safe.
"Of course," so Julius added, "it had not seemed
Needful to come, but that I also heard
A prisoner of my charge would here be found,
For whose safe keeping I am answerable."
Then glancing in a kindly neutral way
At Stephen, he, with show of grave rebuke
That could not wholly hide his lively sense
Of whimsical humor in the part he played
As mediator in such case, went on:
"This Hebrew youth confesses that, in haste
Of spirit, he offered thee some disrespect."
With language purposely made light and vague
Thus the centurion glozed Stephen's offence,
Discreetly shunning to let Felix know
That he knew from the offender's own report
How, for good cause, as to a happy end,
The indignant youth inflicted on him there
The shame and anguish of that timely blow.
"What wilt thou, my lord Felix," Julius asked,
"Wilt thou forgive the lad outright? Or pleasest
Thou rather I condignly deal with him?"
It was astutely so proposed, to save
Appearances to Felix and for him.
Gross-witted as he was, he yet was proud,
And such end of the incident appeared
At once some homage to his dignity
And an escape unhoped from threatened shame.
He condescended loftily to leave
The case of Stephen in the centurion's hands;
And the centurion presently retired
With Paul and Stephen both. Stephen he bade
See to it that he never thenceforth act
Less worthily of himself than he that day
Had done, and with no other reprimand
Dismissed him to rejoin his company.
As for Drusilla, she now had her proof;
And seeing his purpose prosper Simon was glad.
And seeing his purpose prosper Simon was glad.