“Heavens!” cried he, “what limits shall be affixed to this contagion! Rash boy! have you not seen already to what consequences this must lead?”
“What?” says Licinius—“what new calamity is this? Have my ears deceived me? Speak, dear Caius—for the sake of all the blood in your veins—you have not embraced this frenzy?”
“My friends,” said I, “why should I speak to one, when all of you are, I well know, alike interested? In all things else I bow to age and understanding so much above my own; but here I have thought for myself, and my faith is fixed.”
Licinius heard me with a countenance of painful and anxious emotion. In the eye of young Sextus I saw a tear ready to start, and his whole aspect was that of one sad and bewildered. Sempronius leaned his brow upon his hand, and turned himself away from me. But as [pg 354]for the Centurion, he preserved his usual air; and after a moment, all the rest continuing silent, said, “Valerius, I have been in love ere now, and perhaps am not out of the scrape at present; but you have thrown a new light upon the matter. What do you fancy to be the great merits of the present age, that it should be treated with more favour than all that have gone before it? And, if you come to speak of the Jews, every body knows they are a most pitiful, mean, knavish set of creatures. They were always by the ears among themselves; but I think it is rather too much that they should have the credit of bringing their betters (by which I mean all the world besides) into confusion. You are but green yet; all this will blow over anon, and you will laugh more heartily than any one else when you think of your weakness. But look up, good friend, I don’t think you are listening to me.”
“My dear Sabinus,” said I, “I do listen, but I think it is rather to the gay Prætorian, than to the patient friend I had expected to find in you.”
“Come!” said he again, “you take every thing so seriously. If you are resolved to be a Christian, I am very sorry for it; but even that shall not stand between me and a true friend. I hope you will soon see the thing as I do—I know you will; but, in the meantime, Valerius, you may count upon me.”—And the kind man squeezed my hand with his customary fervour.
He then turned round to the rest of our friends, and began to propose for their consideration a dozen different schemes of escape, that had already suggested themselves to his imagination.
Licinius took advantage of the first pause, to suggest that the Centurion seemed in a hurry to get rid of me. He then passed into an account of the speech he had delivered on the preceding afternoon before the Court of the Centumvirs, and of the unhesitating manner, so gratifying to his feelings, in which its judgment had been pronounced. For some moments, in his detail of these proceedings, he seemed almost to have lost sight of the present situation and views of the person most interested in their termination. But when, in the progress of his story, he came to enlarge upon the magnificence of my new possessions—the domains in Africa—the rich farms in Sicily—the numerous slaves engaged in their cultivation—the Spanish silver mine—and, last of all, the splendours of the great villa upon the banks of the Tiber—it was not difficult to perceive that he could scarcely restrain his indignation at the purpose I had been expressing. “And such,” said he, “are the realities which our young friend quits for the reasons he has mentioned! Well, every man must judge for himself. If it must be so, let it be so.”
I heard him patiently to the end, and then said, “You have well summed up the whole matter, my dear Licinius. It must indeed be so. I go immediately to Britain, and I trust she—for whom I would leave all these things, were they greater than they are—shall, by the aid of your kindness, go with me in safety. There is one request only which I have, in addition to all this, to lay before you; and that you may hear it the more patiently, it does not concern myself.
“In a word, then,” I continued, “should happier days arrive, I hope once more to be among you here in Rome. [pg 356]The wealth which, thanks to your zeal, Licinius, is this day mine, can be of little use to me in the British valley, to which, for the present, I retire. Above all, this beautiful villa of which you speak,—why, because for a time I am unable to occupy it, should the mansion of my fathers stand empty, when there are others among their descendants, who lie not under the same necessity of exile? Till I am enabled to breathe in freedom the air of Italy, I trust Licinius will consent to let Sextus represent me in my villa. There, too, I hope Sempronius will permit his daughter to be. It will give pleasure to Athanasia, to think that those halls contain the dearest of our friends. When we come back, if ever we do so, they will not grudge to make room for us beneath the same roof with themselves. Licinius—Sempronius—what say you?”