Читать книгу A Struggle for Rome (Vol. 1-3) - Felix Dahn - Страница 19

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On the same day Cethegus paid a visit to the two ladies. He had come over from Rome on important business, and had just left the privy-council which had been held in the invalid King's room. His energetic features were full of repressed anger.

"To work, Camilla!" he cried. "You are too long about it. This impertinent boy becomes more and more unmanageable. He defies me and Cassiodorus, and even his mother. He is intimate with dangerous people. With old Hildebrand and Witichis and their friends. He sends and receives letters behind our backs. He has managed that the Queen may never hold a council of the regency except in his presence. And in the council he crosses all our plans. This must cease. In one way or another."

"I have no more hope of influencing the King," said Camilla gravely.

"Why? Have you already seen him?"

The girl reflected. She had promised Athalaric not to allow his disobedience to come to the ears of his physicians; and besides, it went against her feelings to desecrate and betray their meeting. So she avoided the question and said:

"If the King refuses to obey his mother, the Queen-regent, he is not likely to suffer himself to be controlled by a young girl."

"What sweet simplicity!" laughed Cethegus. And he dropped the conversation as long as the girl remained in the room. But afterwards, in private, he forced from Rusticiana a promise to manage matters so that her daughter in future might frequently see and speak to the King. It was possible to do this, for Athalaric's health rapidly improved. He became daily more manly and more decided. It seemed as if his opposition to Cethegus strengthened him both bodily and mentally.

In a very short time he again spent many hours of the day in the extensive pleasure-grounds. It was here that his mother and the family of Boëthius frequently met him in the evening.

And while Rusticiana appeared to receive the gracious courtesies of the Queen with answering friendship, listening attentively to her confidential remarks, in order afterwards to report them, word for word, to the Prefect, the two young people walked before them through the shady paths of the garden. Often this select company entered one of the light gondolas in the little harbour, and Athalaric rowed them himself over the blue sea to one of the small wooded isles which lay not far away. On the return home, the purple sails were spread, and the fresh breeze, which always arose at sunset, carried them gently and idly back. Camilla and the King, accompanied by Daphnidion, frequently enjoyed this trip over the waves alone.

Amalaswintha naturally saw the danger of increasing by such freedom the inclination of her son for Camilla, which had not escaped her notice; but, above all other considerations, she was thankful for the favourable influence which this companionship evidently exercised upon her son. In Camilla's presence he was quieter and more cheerful; and at the same time more gentle in his manner to herself, which had often been abrupt and violent. He also controlled his feelings with a mastery which was doubly surprising in such an irritable invalid. And, lastly, the Queen-regent, supposing that his inclination should indeed ripen to earnest love, would not be averse to an alliance which promised completely to win the Roman aristocracy, and erase all memory of a cruel deed.

In Camilla a wonderful change was going forward. Day by day, as she more and more clearly saw the noble tenderness, the gifted soul, and the deep and poetical feelings of the young King develop, she felt her hate melt away. With difficulty she recalled to her memory the fate of her father, as an antidote to this sweet poison; she learnt better to distinguish justly which of the Goths and Amelungs had contributed to that fate, and, with growing certainty, she felt that it was unjust to hate Athalaric for a misfortune which he had merely not opposed, and indeed would hardly have been able to prevent. She would have liked, long ago, to speak to him openly, but she mistrusted her own weakness; she shunned it as a sin against father, fatherland, and her own freedom; she trembled as she felt how indispensable this noble youth had become to her, how much she thirsted to hear his melodious voice, and look into his dark and thoughtful eyes. She feared this sinful love--which she could now scarcely conceal from herself--and she would not part with the only weapon that remained to her: the reproach of his passive acquiescence in her father's death.

So she fluctuated from feeling to feeling; all the more hesitatingly, the more mysterious Athalaric's strange reserve became. After all that had happened, she could not doubt that he loved her; and yet--

Not a syllable, not a look betrayed this love. The exclamation with which he had left her at the Temple of Venus was the most important, the only important speech that had escaped him. She could not suspect what the youth had suffered before his love had become not extinguished, but self-denying. And still less in what new feeling he had found manly strength enough for such renunciation.

Her mother, who watched Athalaric with all the keenness of hate, and, in doing so, forgot to observe her own child, appeared even more astonished at his coldness.

"But patience," she said to Cethegus, with whom she often consulted behind Camilla's back. "Patience! soon, in three days' time, you will see him alter."

"It is high time," answered Cethegus. "But upon what grounds do you build?"

"Upon a means which has never yet failed me."

"You will not, surely, mix a love-philtre for him?" asked the Prefect, smiling.

"Certainly I shall. I have done so already."

He looked at her mockingly.

"And are you, then, so superstitious, you, the widow of the great philosopher, Boëthius? Upon my word, in love affairs all women are mad alike!"

"It is neither madness nor superstition," replied Rusticiana quietly. "Our family has possessed this secret charm for more than a hundred years. An Egyptian woman once gave it to one of my female ancestors on the Nile, and it has always proved its power. No woman of my family has ever loved without requital."

"That required no magic," observed the Prefect. "You are a handsome race."

"Spare your sarcasm. The love-philtre is unfailing, and if it has not yet taken effect----"

"So you have really---- What imprudence! How could you, unobserved----"

"Every evening, when he returns from a walk or a row with us, Athalaric takes a cup of spiced Falernian. The physicians ordered it. There are some drops of Arabian balsam in it. The cup always stands ready upon the marble table in front of the temple. Three times I have succeeded in pouring in my potion."

"Well," observed Cethegus, "until now it has done no particular good."

"That is only owing to my impatience. The herbs must be gathered during the new moon. I knew it well enough; but, hurried by your insistence, I tried it during the full moon, and, you see, it was not effectual."

Cethegus shrugged his shoulders.

"But yesterday," she went on, "it was new moon. I was not idle with my golden scissors, and when he drinks now----"

"A second Locusta! Well, my comfort is Camilla's beautiful eyes! Does she know of your arts?"

"Not a word to her! She would never suffer it. Silence! She comes!"

The girl entered in great excitement; her oval cheeks were red; a plait of her hair had got loose, and floated over her lovely neck.

"Tell me," she cried, "you who are wise and experienced, tell me what to think! I come from the boat. Oh, he has never loved me, the haughty man! He pities, he is sorry for me! No, that is not the right word. I cannot explain it." And bursting into tears, she hid her face upon her mother's neck.

"What has happened, Camilla?" asked Cethegus.

"Very often before," she began, with a heavy sigh, "an expression played about his mouth, and filled his eyes, as if he had been deeply offended by me, as if he had to forgive, as if he had made a great sacrifice for me----"

"Raw boys always imagine it to be a sacrifice, when they are in love."

At this Camilla's eyes flashed; she tossed her head, and turned quickly upon Cethegus.

"Athalaric is no boy, and no one shall laugh at him!"

Cethegus was silent, and quietly dropped his eyelids; but Rusticiana asked in surprise:

"Do you hate the King no more?"

"To the death! He shall be undone, but not mocked!"

"What has happened?" repeated Cethegus.

"To-day I again noticed that puzzling, proud, and cold expression upon his face more distinctly than ever. A little incident occurred which caused the King to speak more plainly. An insect--a beetle--had fallen into the water. The King stooped and took it out, but the little creature turned against the beneficent hand, and bit the fingers that held it. 'The ungrateful thing!' I exclaimed. 'Oh,' said Athalaric, with a bitter smile, 'we wound most those to whom we are most indebted!' and he glanced at me with a sad and proud expression. But, as if he had said too much, he briefly bid me farewell, and went away; but I----" and her bosom heaved, her finely-cut lips were compressed--"I can bear it no longer! The haughty one! He shall love me--or die!"

"That shall he," said Cethegus inaudibly; "one or the other."