The blood had mounted in the countenance of Aurelius, ere he reached these last words. The tears also had been dried up on the pale cheek of Athanasia; and although her voice was not heard, I saw that her lips moved fervently along with those of the priest. Even in me, ignorant of their source, the words of the royal prophet produced I know not what of buoyance and emotion, and perhaps my lips, too, had involuntarily essayed to follow them; for when he [pg 301]paused from his reading, the old man turned to me with a face full of benignity, and said, “Yes, Valerius, it is even so; Homer, Pindar, Æschylus—these, indeed, can stir the blood; but it is such poetry as this that alone can sooth in sorrow, and strengthen in the hour of tribulation. Your vain-glorious Greeks called all men barbarians but themselves; and yet these words, and thousands not less precious than these, consoled the afflictions, and ennobled the triumphs of the chosen race of Israel long, long years, ere ever the boasted melody of Ionian or Doric verse had been heard of. From this alone, young man, you may judge what measure of candour inhabits along with the disdain of our proud enemies:—how fairly, without question, or opportunity of defence, the charge of barbarity is heaped upon what they are pleased to call our superstition;—how wisely the learned and the powerful of the earth have combined in this league against the truth which they know not,—of which they fear or despise the knowledge. Surely the truth is mighty, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against her.”
“But, alas! my dear father,” said Athanasia, “I fear me this is not the place, nor the situation, in which Valerius might be most likely to listen to your words. It may be that his own narrow escape, to say nothing of our present danger, has rendered him even more cautious than he was before.”
“And who, my dear child,” he replied hastily,—“and who is he that shall dare to blame caution, or to preach, above all in such things as these, the rashness that is of folly? Valerius will not believe that we, like the miserable creatures whose impious songs he heard [pg 302]last night, are studious only of working upon the fears of the ignorant, and harassing, with dark and lying dreams, the imaginations of the simple. Here are no wild stories of blood-thirsty deities, and self-sacrificing maniacs. Here is that which Socrates vainly sought by all the ingenuity of reason. Here is that of which some faint and mysterious anticipations would appear to have been shadowed forth in the visions of Plato. Here is that which, as that Mighty Martyr who died in this very city hath said, innumerable prophets and kings of the old time desired to see, and yet saw not. Do nothing rashly, young man; but it is possible, as you yourself well know, that this may be the last opportunity I shall ever have of speaking with you; and therefore, before we part, I must needs charge you solemnly, that henceforth, if your knowledge increase not, the sin shall be upon your head. I charge you, Valerius, that when you return to your island, you blot not from your memory the things that you have seen and heard in this great city of light and of darkness. Examine—judge—ask aid, and aid shall not be refused you. I take Athanasia to witness, that I have given you the warning that is needful.”
“Oh, sir!” said Athanasia, “I am sure it shall not be in vain that you have done so. I am sure Valerius will never forget this hour——”
She gazed in my face, and a tear was again visible, yet on all her countenance there was no other semblance of passion. The venerable Aurelius clasping his thin hands together, whispered,—“Would to God that I were here alone! Shall the axe be laid to the root of the fair young tree that hath but begun to blossom, [pg 303]when so many old trunks stand around withered with the lightnings, and sore broken by the winds?—The will of the Lord be done!”
“Amen!” said Athanasia, taking the old man by the hand, and smiling, I think, more cheerfully than I had yet seen her—“My dear father, I fear you yourself, after all, are teaching Valerius to take but a sad farewell of us.”
“Alas! my child,” he replied, “he must have a hard heart that could look unmoved on that sweet face in this hour of sadness. But we are in the hands of a greater than Trajan. If so it please Him, all may yet go well with us even here upon the earth. You may live to see many happy years among your kindred—and I, (the old man smiled most serenely,) and for me, my gray hairs may be laid in bloodless dust. Whatever awaits us, blessed be the name of the Lord!”
So saying, the old man retired from the chamber, and once more I was left alone in the presence of Athanasia. I took from my bosom the book and the letter which I had placed there, and laid them upon her knee. She broke the seal, and read hastily what Tisias had written, and then concealed the scroll within her tunic, saying, “Alas! Valerius, little did the brave old soldier suspect how soon his peril was to be mine—Will you permit me like him to make you my messenger?—will you seek out my cousin, my sister, and tell Sempronia in what condition you have found me?—no, not in what you found—but in what you now see me. Will you go, Valerius, and speak comfort to my poor friend? Her pity, at least, I am sure is mingled with no angry thoughts; and yet she only has reason to complain, for [pg 304]her secret thoughts were not hid from me, and, alas! I concealed mine from her.”
“I have already seen her,” said I, “and you do her no more than justice. But, indeed, Sempronius himself thinks of you even as gently as his daughter.”
“I doubt it not, Valerius; but, alas! there are many others besides these; and I know not what relic of weakness it is, but methinks I could have borne the worst more easily, had it not been for what I picture to myself of their resentment. Alas! I am cut off for ever from the memory of my kindred.” She threw open the lattice, as if that she might inhale the free air, and her eyes wandered to and fro over all the magnificent prospect that lay stretched out below us,—the temples and high porticos of the Forum—the gleaming battlements and long arcades of the Palatine—the baths, and theatres, and circuses between and the river—Tiber winding away among fields and groves—and the sky of Italy extending over all things its arch of splendour. When the trumpets were blown by the gate of the Senate-house, the sound floated upwards to us as gently as if it had been borne over the waters. The shouts of the multitude were faintly re-echoed from the towers and the rocks. The princely pageant shewed like a pomp of pigmies; spear, and helmet, and eagle glittered together, almost like dews upon the distant herbage. Athanasia rested her eye once more upon the wide range of the champaign, where fields and forests were spread out in interminable succession—away towards the northern region and the visible mountains. She raised her hand, and said, “Valerius, your home lies far away yonder. I must [pg 305]give you something which you shall promise me to carry with you, and preserve in memory—of Rome.”