  On reaching the street, Domitia saw at once that the aspect of the populace was changed. Instead of the busy hum of trade, the calls of hucksters, the laugh of the mirthful, a stillness had come on every one; no face smiled, no voice was raised, scarcely any person moved. Those who had been bustling here and there stood motionless, trade had ceased. A sudden frost had arrested the flow of life and reduced all its manifestations to the lowest term. Such as had been running about collected in clusters, and conversed in whispers. Blank faces looked at Domitia as she entered her litter, with awed respect. “Eboracus! What is the meaning of this?” asked the lady. “Madam, I know not. None will confide what they seem to know or to suspect.” “Go forward,” said she, “I will visit my mother in the CarinÆ. She will know everything.” In another moment her train was in movement, and as she passed along, all bowed and saluted with their hands; they had done as much previously, but without the earnestness that was now observable. In the heart of Domitia was as it were a blade of ice transpiercing it. She was in deadly alarm lest her surmise should prove true. [pg 238]She would not draw the curtains of her litter, but looked at everything in the streets, and saw that all were in the same condition of stupefaction. On reaching the entrance to the palace occupied by her mother, Domitia noticed another palanquin and attendants. “The Vestal Abbess, Cornelia, is with the Lady Duilia,” said Eboracus. “I will go in!—I know her well, and esteem her,” said Domitia. She passed the vestibule, traversed the Atrium and entered the Tablinum. But Longa Duilia was not there. A slave coming up, said that she had entered with the Great Mother into a private apartment, where she might not be disturbed. “Well! I am no stranger. Lead the way.” In another instant she was ushered into her mother’s presence, and at once Duilia bowed to her with profound respect. “Mother—what does this mean?” “Here is the Lady Abbess, Cornelia, let me present her to your Highness.” “Mother—I salute the Lady Cornelia—what is this that has cast a shadow over Rome and frightened the people as with an eclipse?” “My dear, of course you have heard. It may be only rumor and yet,—he was suffering when he left Rome.” “Ye Gods! do not say so! Mother, withdraw your words of bad omen. Naught has befallen him! It was but a slight fever.” “So we esteemed it, but——” “But, mother——” Domitia panted. [pg 239]“The news are weighty, and concern you vastly, my daughter.” “It is too horrible for me to think. Surely, surely, mother, it is false.” “Hearken, my dear,—Lady Cornelia, come also to the top of the house. It is a fine situation for seeing and hearing, and out of all reach of eavesdroppers. I hear shouts, I hear horns blowing. Come—speedily! let us to the house-top.” Laying hold of Domitia and the Vestal Superior by the wrists, she drew them with her to the roof. The silence that had fallen on Rome had passed away, the town was now resonant with horns and trumpets pealing from the PrÆtorian camp, with the shouting of many voices from the same quarter. In the streets, messengers were running, armed with knotted sticks, and were hammering at the doors of Senators to summon them to an extraordinary meeting. The clash of arms resounded, so also the tramp of feet, as the city police marched in the direction of the Palatine. Here and there rose loud cries, but what they signified could not be judged. In another moment Eboracus came out on the housetop, and hastening to his mistress, said:— “Madam, the Augustus—Titus, has been. The CÆsar Domitian is proclaimed Emperor by the troops. The vigiles are hastening in cohorts to swear allegiance.” “I congratulate you—I congratulate you with all my heart!” exclaimed Longa Duilia, throwing her arms round her daughter. “I have reached the summit of my ambition. I vow a kid to Febronia for her opportune—ahem!—but who would have thought the Roman fever would have been so speedy in bringing [pg 240] “Let us go down,” said Domitia in a hard tone. “Come down, by all means,” acquiesced her mother. “I must see that the Gods be properly thanked. I stepped this morning out of bed left leg foremost.9 I knew some happiness would come to me to-day. As the Gods love me! I’ll give a little supper. Domitia! whom shall I invite? None of your second-class men now. There!—I thought as much; my wig has come off. Never mind! no men can see me, and women don’t count.” On reaching the private apartment of the lady, Domitia said:— “Mother—a word.” She was white, save that a flame was kindled on each cheek-bone and her eyes scintillated like burning coals. “Well, my dear, I am all ears—even to my toes.” “Mother, he murdered him. I know it—I feared there was mischief meant, when Domitian attended him to CutiliÆ and took Elymas with him. It was not fever that——” MOTHER, HE MURDERED HIM. [pg 241]“MOTHER, HE MURDERED HIM.” Page 240. “My dear, don’t bother your head about these matters. They all do it. We women, I thank the Gods, are outside of politics. But—well—well, you must not say such things, not even think them. It is all for the best in the best of worlds. I never had the smallest wish to see behind the scenes. Always eat your meat cooked and spiced, and don’t ask to see it as it comes from the shambles. If you are quite positive, then I won’t throw away the kid on Febronia. It is of no use wasting money on a goddess who really has not helped.” “Mother,” said Domitia, her whole frame quivering with excitement; “I am sure of it. Did not the Augustus give his daughter Julia to Flavius Sabinus? I know that Domitian was alarmed at that. I saw it in his looks, I heard it in his voice; his movements of hand and foot proclaimed it. He feared a rival. He feared what the will of Titus might be—whom he might name as his successor. Mark me, my mother; the first to fall will be Flavius Sabinus.” “Hist! the word is of bad omen.” “It was of bad omen to Sabinus and to Titus alike when Julia was given to her cousin.” “Well, my dear,” said Longa Duilia, “I do not see that we need concern ourselves about politics. You see,—every night, stars drop out of the heavens; the firmament is overcrowded, and those stars that are firmest planted elbow out the weakest. It is their way in heaven, and what other can you expect on earth? Of course, it were much to be desired—and all that sort of thing; but we did not make the world, neither do we rule it. All eggs in a nest do not hatch out, some addle.” [pg 242]“Mother, I will not go back to him.” “Folly! you cannot do other.” “I will not. My condition was bad enough before, it will be worse now.” “Domitia, set your mind at rest. I have no doubt that there have been little unpleasantnesses. Man and wife do not always agree. Your poor father would not be ruled by me. If he had—ah me!—Things would have been very different in Rome. But he suffered for his obstinacy. You must be content to take things as you find them. Most certainly it would be better in every way if peacocks had eyes on both sides of their tails, but as they have not, only very silly peacocks turn about and expose the eyeless side. Make the best of matrimony. It is not many marriages are like young walnuts, that you can peel off the bitter and eat only the sweet. In most, the skin adheres so tightly that you have to take the sweet with the gall, and be content that there is any sweet at all.” “I shall go away. I will not return to the palace.” “Go whither? the world belongs to Domitian. There is not a corner where you can hide. There are officials, and when not officials—spies. I have no doubt that the fish in that tank put up their heads and wish they were butterflies to soar above the roof and get away and sport among the flowers, instead of going interminably about the impluvium. But, my dear, they can’t do it, so they acquiesce in tank existence. Yours is the finest and best lot in the world,—and you would surrender it! From being a lioness you would decline to be a house cat!” Domitia turned abruptly away, tears of anger and disappointment were in her eyes. [pg 243]She said in a muffled voice:— “Lady Cornelia, will you come with me?” “I am at your service,” answered the Vestal. The ladies departed together, and at the portal each entered her own litter. “To the Atrium VestÆ,” said Domitia. Her retinue started, and a moment after followed that of the Vestal Cornelia. The streets were full of excited multitudes, currents running up one side, down another, meeting, coming to a standstill, clotting, and choking the thoroughfares, then breaking up and flowing again. If it had not been for the liveries of the two heralds, the palanquin of Domitia could not have got through, but when it was observed whose litter and servants were endeavoring to make way, the crowd readily divided, and every obstacle gave way immediately. But the Vestal Superior needed not that the CÆsar’s wife should open the road for her. As much respect was accorded to her as to Domitia. Both trains, the one following immediately after the other, entered and traversed the Forum, passed the Temple of Julius, and at the south extremity reached the Atrium of the Vestal Virgins, a long building without a window, communicating with the outer world by a single door. At this door Domitia descended from her litter, and awaited the Abbess. Cornelia also stepped from her litter. She was a tall and stately lady of forty years, who had once been beautiful, but whose charms were faded. She smiled— “You will pay me a visit, as you go your way? that is a gracious favor.” [pg 244]“A lengthy visit,” said Domitia. “Time will never seem long in your sweet society,” answered the Vestal and taking Domitia’s hand led her up the steps to the platform. No sooner was Domitia there, than she ran to the altar of the Goddess on which burned the perpetual fire, within a domed Temple, and clasped it. Cornelia had followed her, and looked at her with surprise. “I claim the protection of the Goddess,” said Domitia. “I will not return to the palace! I will be free from him.” Cornelia became grave. “If your Goddess has any might, any grace, she will protect me. Do you fear? Have you lost your rights? I claim them.” “Be it so,” said the Abbess. “None have appealed to the Goddess in vain, none taken sanctuary with her, who have been rejected. She will maintain your cause.” |
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