She then commanded Chariclea to be led away, still keeping her hold upon her neck, and ordering her guards to disperse the crowd, who were with difficulty prevented from interfering for her rescue; but who at length gave way, partly suspecting her to be a sorceress, and partly through awe of the person, and dreading the power, of Arsace.
Chariclea then was again committed to the custody of Euphrates; again thrown into prison, and reserved for a second trial, and a second sentence; rejoicing however amidst her troubles, that she should once more have an opportunity of seeing, and conversing with, Theagenes; for Arsace, out of a refinement of cruelty, had ordered them to be confined in one dungeon, that each might be a spectator of the other's sufferings; for she well knew that a tender heart is much more hurt by the pains of those it loves than by its own. In this instance, however, her savage mind was disappointed; and what she meant as a punishment turned out a consolation. They took a melancholy pleasure in suffering for each other, and in suffering equally. Had a greater share of torments been inflicted upon either, the other would have been jealous, and thought his love defrauded—moreover they were now together—they could converse with, comfort, and encourage one another to bear their calamities with fortitude, and to resist courageously every trial that might endanger their purity or fidelity. They passed the greatest part of the night in speaking on such topics, as might indeed be expected from a pair, whose whole delight was in their mutual conversation, and who despaired of ever passing another night together again.
At length they came to the miraculous event which happened at the pyre. Theagenes attributed it to the benevolence of the gods, who were angry at the injustice of Arsace, and who pitied Chariclea's innocence and piety. She herself was in doubt whether to thank or complain of heaven. The manifest interposition of the gods at the place of execution, was a mark of their kindness and protection; but to be preserved from death, only to be plunged afresh in new and unceasing troubles, was rather a sign of their having incurred, and still continuing under, the divine displeasure: unless indeed, it were some wonder-working method of the deity delighting to plunge them into the deepest misery, in order to show its power of saving them when their condition appeared desperate.
She was going on in a complaining style, when Theagenes stopped her, bidding her speak more reverently, nor to scrutinize the conduct of the Deity. Suddenly she exclaimed,—"May the gods be propitious to us, for I just now call to mind a dream, (or rather waking vision), which I had last night, and which the unexpected sight of you again, and the various matters which we have since talked of, had driven from my memory. The vision was this:—The beatified Calasiris appeared to me (whether in reality or in idea, I am not certain) and repeated these lines, for the words fell into verse;
'Wearing Pantarbè, fear not flames, fair maid,
Fate, to whom nought is hard, shall bring thee aid.'"[14]
Theagenes on his part appeared suddenly like one under supernatural impulse, for springing forwards, as far as his fetters would permit him, he exclaimed—-"The gods be gracious to us! recollection makes me also a poet; I had, myself, a like vision. Calasiris, or some deity in his shape, appeared to me, and addressed me in these lines:
'From Arsace, the morrow sees thee free—
To Ethiopia with the virgin flee.'[15]
"Now, I readily comprehend the meaning of the oracle which is given to me. By Ethiopia, is signified the dark abode of those who dwell under the earth—by the virgin, Proserpine—by freedom, my release from this wretched body: but I do not so readily understand that which relates to you—there appears to be a contradiction in it. The name of Pantarbè means 'all fear,' and yet from it you are promised assistance."
"My dearest Theagenes," replied Chariclea, "you have been so accustomed to misfortunes that you use yourself to interpret every thing in its worst sense—the mind of man so readily takes a colour from its circumstances. The oracles appear to me to admit of much more favourable meaning. The virgin, instead of Proserpine, means perhaps me, with whom you are to escape to Ethiopia, my country, after you shall have been delivered from the prisons of Arsace. How all this is to be brought about is not very apparent, but it is not incredible. Every thing is possible to the gods; and they who have favoured us with this prediction, will watch over its accomplishment. The prophecy which relates to me, so far from being obscure, is, as you see, fulfilled; and I am, contrary to all expectation, alive, and unhurt, at least by the flames: I was hitherto ignorant that I carried the cause of my preservation about me, but now I fancy that I understand the words. I took particular care at the time of my trial, as indeed I had been wont to do before, to have the jewels which were exposed with me, bound closely about my body, concealing them under my garments—in case I should escape, they would help to support my life—if I were doomed to suffer, they would adorn my funeral. Among these, which consist of costly necklaces, and Indian and Ethiopian jewels, there is a ring, given by my father to my mother when they were betrothed: within the bezil is a stone called Pantarbè; it is inscribed with sacred letters, and endowed with mystic virtues, from whence, as I conjecture, it obtains the power to preserve those who wear it from the force of fire. This, therefore, most probably, and the good pleasure of the gods, is what has preserved me. I remember too, that our friend, Calasiris, (now in happiness,) told me that something of this virtue was hinted at in the writing inscribed on the fillet which was exposed with me, and which I always wear round my waist."
"What you say," replied Theagenes, "may perhaps be true—what has happened seems to confirm your conjecture: but what Pantarbè will deliver us from the dangers which threaten us to-morrow? This stone, though it preserves from fire, does not confer immortality, and the wicked Arsace will find out some other, and new kind of punishment. How do I wish that she would involve us both in the same sentence, that one and the same hour might end our troubles! I should not esteem such a departure death, but repose and ease to our manifold miseries."