  The short sea-trip from Rome, and the few days’ subsequent sauntering excursion, from the opposite side of the bay, had served to restore the face and frame of Cestus to a nearer approach to their native fulness of outline. Nevertheless, his broad physiognomy was yet pinched and shrunken, and his garments of rough woollen material hung sharply and loosely about his diminished bulk. The artificial colouring of his skin was yet continued, for the nature of the Suburan was cunning and suspicious, and did not deem the distance from Rome a sufficient reason to discard even this disguise. On perceiving the occupants of the workshop he stopped short on the threshold for a moment, and surveyed them with as much surprise as they regarded him. Masthlion raised his face from his hands, and, taking one step forward, gazed at the new-comer intently. Cestus fixed his small keen eyes on the lovely face and form of NeÆra, who, instinctively, inclined toward her lover. Then he withdrew his glance, and, marching up to Masthlion, clapped the potter on the shoulder with all his old swagger and assurance. ‘How now, kinsman? How fare you after all these years? Do you not remember me?’ cried he. Masthlion’s heavy brows were knitted: his eyes gazed, nay, almost glared intensely into his visitor’s face. It would be almost impossible to describe the mixture of feelings which agitated his whole frame. Wonder and relief were dominant, and anguish lay numb beneath. Suddenly his visage cleared, and he clutched the arm of Cestus convulsively, with such a grasp of iron that the Suburan winced. ‘Marvel of marvels!’ he gasped; ‘what, Cestus, is it [pg 189] ‘I’m glad on’t, kinsman, if it hath pleased thee,’ said Cestus. ‘I have had you in my mind every day for months past—nay, as you entered, you were present in my mind.’ ‘That was love indeed, and means a warm welcome—thanks, brother!’ ‘Welcome—ay, welcome!’ exclaimed the potter, seizing both hands of the Suburan and shaking them fervently, ‘the very man of all I wished to see, and the least expected. It is the doing of the gods—praised be the gods!’ ‘Humph!’ ejaculated Cestus, just a little doubtful whether his kinsman’s joy was altogether attributable to personal regard; ‘and, if you will let me have my say, I am just as light-hearted as you to find you on earth, and not departed to the land of spirits. Luck is with you, Cestus! But how of Tibia, my sister?’ ‘Did you not see her in the house?’ ‘She is breathing like yourself, then! No, I saw her not, nor any live being, though I looked in every room. More fortune, Cestus; for they are all just as you would wish them, even to—and this bonny wench, kinsman. This is the little lass I saw last, as a bit of a chit, with her doll of rags?’ ‘The same, Cestus—NeÆra; she has grown,’ said Masthlion. ‘Grown! You say true. NeÆra—I had forgotten your name—come, kiss your uncle, after how many years away, he dare not say, lest it make him feel so old.’ But the fair girl shrank back from the proffered salute, and offered her hand instead, saying she was glad to see her uncle. ‘Well—well!’ cried Cestus, with his loud rough laugh, ‘I will dispense with the kiss—I will not press it. I would not rob that young gentleman of even one; and, truth to tell, I have not a kissing look about my figurehead. You are, at the same time, the finest lass I have seen for many a day—I give thee joy, Masthlion, of thy lovely daughter. And this noble gentleman, kinsman, has no doubt come to the same conclusion long ago—you do not make us known—he is no apprentice to thy pottery trade I can see.’ ‘A friend, kinsman—and—and NeÆra’s betrothed,’ ex[pg 190] ‘Ho! ho!’ cried that worthy, ‘then ’tis all settled. Give thee joy—you have won a fair jewel, sir—but you give me no name, kinsman.’ Martialis had drawn himself to his full height, and his face was fixed in its haughtiest aspect, on the voluble, unretiring Suburan. ‘My name is Martialis; and if you are indeed the uncle of NeÆra I will take your hand,’ he said, stretching out his fingers accordingly. ‘I am proud to do so with such a free-minded noble,’ answered Cestus, suiting the action to the word, ‘for you are of knightly rank, I see, and as much above me as the eagle above a barn-door fowl. Nevertheless I can wish you happiness; fortune, without doubt, you already possess, so there is no need to wish you that.’ ‘I thank you!’ said Martialis coldly. ‘And you! I remember you being stouter in body and whiter in face. Whence have you come?’ inquired Masthlion. ‘It is a long story, kinsman, and I will tell you at leisure,’ replied Cestus; ‘enough for the present to tell you I have been at death’s door, and have come to gain back my strength in the pure air of Surrentum. I have come to tarry a season in your house, Masthlion, if you are willing—it shall cost you nothing, save the infliction of my company.’ ‘Stop, and welcome, till you are hale and strong; but, for the rest, I can yet afford to house my kinsman, as a guest, without turning tavern keeper—no man who tastes my bread and salt under my roof must pay for the same.’ ‘Well, as you like. I am delighted to see you, by Jupiter.’ ‘And I thee—I have needed thee, and have much to say.’ ‘And I also; most especially to have my eyes gladdened with NeÆra, my fair niece—but come, there yet remains sister Tibia.’ ‘Ay, true,’ said Masthlion, going to the door. ‘Into the house! Haste thee, girl—take thy uncle’s wallet! Prepare his room! Get water! The Centurion will excuse thee for [pg 191] They all, therefore, left the workshop, and proceeded into the house. The potter’s wife, in the meantime, had re-entered, and met them. She looked curiously at the strange figure of Cestus for a moment, and then rushed forward and embraced him, giving vent to as many signs and expressions of astonishment and delight as her quiet mild nature was capable of. There was, indeed, a faint similarity between the character of their faces, but very little between their dispositions. ‘Hark’ee, brother-in-law!’ said Cestus to Masthlion, as the latter was withdrawing out of the little guest chamber, whither NeÆra had conveyed the appliances wherewith the traveller was to refresh himself after his journey, ‘tell me something more of that tall young fellow downstairs. ’Tis a gay young cock to be haunting a potter’s house.’ ‘’Tis a matter which has already given much trouble—nor am I yet satisfied,’ returned Masthlion, knitting his heavy brows. ‘Just so; the girl is handsome, and people tattle. One of his breed is a dangerous visitor to your pigeon-cote,’ said Cestus. ‘He has acted fairly and honestly, and is in haste to wed her.’ ‘Bid him wait, and be patient for a while.’ ‘What was I to do? I bade her tell him to come no more—to give her up as unfitting. He refused, and I went to Rome to find thee.’ ‘Aha! Hast been to the great city, Masthlion, a-seeking me—well?’ ‘I could not find you, nor yet Balbus, with whom you dwelt.’ Cestus grinned. ‘No, it is not likely, for Balbus is not there.’ ‘I did my best; I was in despair, and could not but let things go as they were fated. You never came nigh all these years—it was reasonable to suppose that you were dead.’ ‘And nearly dead I have been.’ ‘Even as you were entering, he was pressing me for her marriage.’ [pg 192]‘I came just pat, did I not?’ ‘Thank the kind gods you have thereby relieved me of a heavy load, and I fear have—but that is for me alone.’ ‘But know you nothing more than the young fellow’s name?’ demanded Cestus. ‘I inquired in Rome. He bears a high character.’ ‘He is a citizen then. What brought him here?’ ‘He is a Pretorian Centurion with the Prefect at present in Capreae.’ ‘Ho! ho!’ murmured Cestus, ‘this may be useful. I am sorry you had your journey to Rome for nothing, kinsman; but I am not too late, as it happens, to ease your mind. I can, as you know, help you in this matter, and I really came with much the same business in my head. It is a long story, and had best be entered upon when we have a flagon of wine between us, and the women asleep in bed upstairs.’ ‘Good; that will be to-night, if you are not too tired,’ replied Masthlion, with a sigh of deep satisfaction. ‘Meanwhile, fob the Pretorian off; it may, perhaps, be worth his while—who knows?’ Masthlion retired to make himself presentable, and when both men appeared below, they found a simple meal ready awaiting them. They did not recline on couches to their food, after the luxurious manner of the higher classes, but sat round the table in the simple old-fashioned way. Cestus ate and drank vigorously. Nor did his tongue remain idle. Among many things, he informed them that he had met with a severe accident, in which he had broken some ribs, and in consequence of which his master had granted him leave of absence to visit his kinsfolk, as soon as he was able to move. He had nearly all the conversation to himself. His sister was naturally silent, and her husband was too busy with his thoughts to speak much. As far as the lovers were concerned, NeÆra’s mind was divided between disgust at having her blissful day spoiled by the unexpected visitor, and the disagreeable feeling of knowing that his stay was to be more or less prolonged. Her nature shrank from this unknown relative—his appearance, his loud, over-confident, self-sufficient style of talk, not unmixed with coarse wit or impertinence. He was an [pg 193] ‘What think you of your new-found uncle?’ he said. ‘Would he had never been better known to me than hitherto,’ she answered. ‘You do not like him?’ ‘How could I?’ ‘And you never before heard of him?’ ‘Never; would it were the same now!’ ‘It is strange,’ he muttered. These last words were not audible to NeÆra, and after a moment’s consideration he bade her bring her father for a few words. ‘You are angered—you are vexed at this man?’ she said anxiously. ‘He can be of no consequence to me, nor need I ever see him again.’ ‘You will never come while he is here, and he may stay—oh, so long.’ ‘We will see,’ he replied, smiling, as he took her in his arms again. ‘But go,’ he said, rousing himself; ‘time begins to press upon me; it will be sunset ere I reach the island. Go, bring your father.’ ‘Lucius, what meant he when he said, “Not father!” in the workshop?’ asked NeÆra earnestly, looking up into the soldier’s face ere she loosed herself from his embrace. They gazed into each other’s eyes. The black piercing orbs met the lustrous gray ones, shining with their lovelight, as if to read each other’s souls, and then he shook his head. ‘I know not,’ he said; ‘it may be nothing—it may be [pg 194] NeÆra departed, and brought Masthlion. Martialis proceeded to impress upon him the desirability of fixing a time for his marriage with NeÆra. He used all his arguments, but to no purpose, for the potter refused all negotiation. ‘In a reasonable time you shall know, but not thus soon.’ ‘Good. The next time I come I will demand it,’ answered the lover, in some heat. ‘Farewell!’ Masthlion left the room, and the Centurion, as he embraced his betrothed, said, ‘Your father is unreasonable,—of what use is it to delay?’ She murmured something to appease him, and he finally tore himself away. In order that she might come into contact as little as possible with Cestus, she began to engage herself in household work elsewhere than where he was. This she managed to protract until near the time for retiring, which she made earlier than usual; and, thus, was almost altogether quit of the object of her dislike. By and by the dame Tibia thought fit to follow her example, so the potter and his brother-in-law were left together. |
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