“Ay, that will I promise faithfully, Scipio. But stay, I have an idea! Why shouldst not thou hand over the command of the land forces to me and take the girl thyself? Our rank is so nearly equal that the Senate could say nought. In sooth, I think it would be wiser so; and thou wilt have far more prospect of obtaining new reinforcements when thou dost arrive in person with the news of thy great victory. And then during the voyage, who knows, the girl may relent, and, perhaps, long before its termination, of her own free will throw herself into thine arms. For Cleandra hath informed me—the wench speaks Latin well, by-the-bye—that she doth believe that deep down in her heart this Elissa doth really love thee. It would be a grand opportunity to make sure of her affection.”
Scipio’s face flushed; he sprang from his seat, and clasped Lælius by the hand.
“And why not, indeed?” he cried; “I thank thee, Caius. Thou art every whit as able a leader of men as am I. Our rank is equal, too; and ’tis true that were I to go in person now, just after taking New Carthage, I should carry greater weight than thee in the matter of the reinforcements. It seemeth not only feasible but right.”
Scipio looked happier than he had done for days; he looked like a scholar who had obtained an unexpected holiday. Lælius, who was delighted to see him thus, warmly returned the pressure of his hand.
Alas! Scipio’s joy was not long-lived, and the joyous expression soon left his face as reason came to his aid.
“Nay, nay,” he continued, with a deep sigh, “it may not be, my dear friend Caius, for, put it which way thou choosest, ’twould be really leaving my post for the sake of a woman. And ’twould surely end most miserably. For supposing the girl were to continue to prove recalcitrant, it could but end in tragedy, perchance in the death of Elissa herself, or mine own suicide, or maybe both. For the madness of this love hath gotten such a hold upon me, I could not bear to live by her side day by day knowing her mine, and yet not mine! I will not risk it, either for my own sake or Elissa’s; it would indeed be trying myself too high. ’Tis thou who must take her, and I must suffer here alone.”
Thus was the matter decided, and Scipio himself that day communicated his decision to Elissa, in Cleandra’s presence. He spoke to her so kindly, so nobly, showing, moreover, so plainly that in this great act of self-abnegation in sending her away he was thinking as much of her as of himself, that Elissa’s long-sustained pride broke down. The tears came to her eyes.
“Oh, Scipio!” she cried, “would that things might have been different! Yet are we both but the servants of the gods, and must obey the divine will, and bow our heads beneath the almighty hand. Would that I could come to thee with honour, and lay my hand in thine. But thou knowest that with honour I cannot, I may not, do so. And were I known to thee to be a woman without honour, thou wouldst neither love me nor respect me as thou dost now. Moreover, the gods would themselves despise me. But, Scipio, the gods cannot prevent my giving thee a sister’s love. And daily for thy great, thy noble treatment of me while here, thy prisoner and thy slave, will I call down upon my beloved brother’s head the blessings of the most high and invisible Melcareth, and pray and beseech him to protect thee from all dangers. And now as a sister only will I embrace thee with a sacred kiss.”
She threw her arms about his neck, and they stood thus awhile, mingling their tears together, while clinging in a close embrace, which for all Elissa’s brave words, could scarcely be deemed that of mere brother and sister.
Cleandra, kind-hearted girl that she was, utterly overcome by this sad and pathetic scene, sobbed audibly in a corner of the chamber.