“Maiden, I invoke their fury, open my bosom to the wrath of Heaven, but lo! their thunders sleep. Thy goddess does not deign to vindicate her cause. She cannot, Lucia, for she has no being. The God I worship, Lucia Claudia, is a spirit immortal and invisible, seen with the eye of faith alone, whose throne is in the highest heaven. The fire thou worshippest is but an element formed by Him for the service of man, of whom He is the great Creator. The bright sun himself we call by a name signifying a servant.”
“The laws will do me justice, insulting Hebrew!” replied the vestal, not deigning to attend to his speech.
“Denounce me, if you will; yet hear me, Lucia Claudia, before you give me up to certain death.”
“Release me, slave! Even to grasp my robes is sacrilege. Pursue your cold inexplicable faith, but leave me to follow mine in peace.”
“I cannot leave you, Lucia Claudia, in darkness and idolatry to provoke the anger of the living God, for I love you too well to overlook your sin; yes, daughter of this strange heathen land, I love you, and would save your soul from ruin.” He sank at her feet, still grasping her garments, while he regarded her with eyes full of grief and hopeless passion.
“Release me, Adonijah!” repeated the vestal, but in a milder tone, and the Hebrew perceived that she trembled. “Go, Adonijah; I wish not your death. Strange to the customs of this land, you know not the penalty you have incurred in daring to lift your eyes to a vestal virgin.”
“I know it, Lucia Claudia, but I fear not to die; death may have terrors for the unbeliever, may be dreaded by the happy, but to the Hebrew captive it will only open a higher, nobler existence. Idolatress, my heart bleeds for you; I see you gentle, fair, and good, a creature formed for truth, yet misleading men to falsehood, the victim of a fraud, alike deceiving and deceived. Why were you not a daughter of my people? then you had worshipped the great Jehovah, nor lent yourself unto a lie. Then it had been no crime to love you; now it is deadly sin.”
The priestess made no reply; she renewed her efforts to escape, and Adonijah did not attempt to detain her. Silently he watched the fluttering of her white garments as if every sense were locked up in sight, and when her form was no longer visible, caught up the triangular instrument she had dropped in her hasty retreat and put it into his bosom, though he really believed it to be a magical instrument; so inconsistent often is the conduct of a lover.
Lucia Claudia had not listened to the rash declaration of Adonijah without emotion. No one had hitherto, besides Nymphidius, dared to cast even a look of admiration upon her, much less presumed to speak to her of love. The austerity of her carriage, her virtue, and consecration to virginity, had deterred the boldest from seeking to inspire her with affection. In spite of herself, the presumption of Adonijah did not give birth to the anger she felt it ought. He was unhappy, and he loved her; and she recalled his words and looks, and found a latent feeling of pity and intense interest lurking in her bosom for the daring slave. She no sooner discovered her danger than she resolved to fly from it, and, summoning her attendants, quitted the villa for Rome that very day, without even venturing to bid her brother farewell, lest his penetrating eye should discover the cause of her inquietude.