CHAPTER II.
As Cethegus emerged from the subterranean chamber into the ground-floor of the palace, and prepared to follow the Queen, his ear was caught and his progress arrested by the solemn and sorrowful tones of flutes. He guessed what it meant.
His first impulse was to turn aside. But he presently decided to remain.
It would happen some time, therefore it was best at once. He must find out how far she was informed.
The tones of the flutes came nearer, alternating with a monotonous dirge. Cethegus stepped into a wide niche of the dark corridor, into which the head of a little procession already turned.
Foremost came, two by two, six noble Roman maidens, covered with grey mourning veils, carrying reversed torches. Then followed a priest, before whom was borne the tall banner of the Cross, with long streamers. Next came a troop of the freedmen of the family of Boëthius, led by Corbulo and the flute-players. Then followed, borne by four Roman girls, an open coffin, covered with flowers. Upon it lay, on a white linen cloth, the dead Camilla, in bridal ornaments, a wreath in her dark hair, an expression of smiling peace upon her slightly-opened lips.
Behind the coffin, with loosened hair, staring fixedly before her, came the unhappy mother, surrounded by matrons, who supported her sinking form.
A company of female slaves closed the procession, which slowly disappeared into the vault.
Cethegus recognised the sobbing Daphnidion, and stopped her.
"When did she die?" he asked calmly.
"Oh, sir, a few hours ago! Oh, the good, kind, beautiful Domna!"
"Did she ever awaken to full consciousness?"
"No, sir, never. Only quite at the last she once more opened her large eyes, and appeared to seek for something. 'Where has he gone?' she asked her mother. 'Ah, I see him!' she then cried, and rose from her cushions. 'Child, my child, where will you go?' cried my mistress, weeping. 'Oh, there!' she replied with a rapturous smile; 'to the Isles of the Blessed!' and she closed her eyes and fell back upon her couch; that lovely smile remained upon her lips--and she was gone, gone for ever!"
"Who has caused her to be brought down here?"
"The Queen. She learned everything, and gave orders that the deceased, as the bride of her son, should be laid beside him and buried in the same tomb."
"But what says the physician? How could she die so suddenly?"
"Alas! the physician saw her only for a moment; he was too much occupied with the royal corpse; and then my mistress would not suffer the strange man to touch her daughter. It is just her heart that has been broken; one can easily die of that! But peace--they come!"
The procession returned in the same order as before, but without the coffin. Daphnidion joined it. Only Rusticiana was missing.
Cethegus quietly walked up and down the corridor, to wait for her.
At last her bowed-down form came slowly up the steps. She staggered and seemed about to fall.
Cethegus quickly caught her arm. "Rusticiana, take courage!"
"You here? God! you also loved her! And we--we two have murdered her!" and she sank upon his shoulder.
"Silence, unhappy woman!" he whispered, looking around.
"Alas! I, her own mother, have killed her! I mixed the fatal draught that caused his death."
"All is well," thought Cethegus. "She has no suspicion that Camilla drank, and still less that I saw her do so.--It is a terrible stroke of Fate!" he said aloud. "But reflect, what would have followed had she lived? She loved him!"
"What would have followed?" cried Rusticiana, receding. "Oh, if she but lived! Who can prevent love? Oh that she had become his--his wife--his mistress, provided only that she lived!"
"But you forget that he must have died?"
"Must? Why must he have died? So that you might carry out your ambitious plans? Oh, selfishness without example!"
"They are your plans that I carry out, not mine; how often must I repeat it? You have conjured up the God of Revenge, not I. Why do you accuse me if he demand a sacrifice? Think better of it. Farewell."
But Rusticiana violently seized his arm. "And that is all? And you have nothing more--not a word, not a tear for my child? And you would make me believe that you have acted thus to avenge her, to avenge me? You have never had a heart! You did not even love her--coldly you see her die! Ha, curses, curses upon thee!"
"Be silent, frantic woman!"
"Silent! no, I will speak and curse you! Oh that I knew of something that was as dear to you as Camilla was to me! Oh that you, like me, could see your whole life's last and only joy torn away--that you could see it vanish, and despair! If there be a God in heaven you will live to do so!"
Cethegus smiled.
"You do not believe in heavenly vengeance? Well, then, believe in the vengeance of a miserable mother! You shall tremble! I will hasten to the Queen and tell her all! You shall die!"
"And you will die with me."
"With a smile--if only I can see you perish!" and she would have hurried away, but Cethegus held her back with an iron grasp.
"Stop, woman! Do you think that I am not on my guard with such as you? Your sons, Anicius and Severinus, are here in Italy, secretly--in Rome--in my house. You know that death is the penalty of their return. A word--and they die with us. Then you may take to your husband your sons, as well as your daughter, who has died by your means. Her blood upon your head!" and quickly turning the angle of the corridor, he disappeared.
"My sons!" cried Rusticiana, and sank down upon the marble pavement.
A few days after, the widow of Boëthius, with Corbulo and Daphnidion, left the court for ever. In vain the Queen sought to detain her.
The faithful freedman took her back to the sheltered Villa of Tifernum, which she now deeply regretted ever having left. There, in the place of the little Temple of Venus, she erected a basilica, in the crypt of which an urn was placed, containing the hearts of the two lovers.
In her passionate soul her prayers for the salvation of her child were inseparably bound up with a petition for revenge upon Cethegus, whose real share in Camilla's death she did not even suspect; she only felt that he had used mother and daughter as tools for his plans, and had sacrificed the girl's happiness and life with heartless coldness.
And scarcely less continuously than the flame of the eternal lamp before the urn, the prayer and the curse of the lonely mother rose up to heaven.
The hour came which disclosed to her all the Prefect's guilt, and the vengeance which she called down from heaven did not tarry.