When they had entered the house, Psyche softly said, “’Tis easier to carry news of grief, O sweet lady, to those who are happy than to those already weighed down with sorrow.”
“They have done no further violence to my children?” asked Agrippina, excitedly.
“Let my sharp words be dulled by the love I bear thee, my lady. Rest thee on thy couch.”
“Tell me, my child, what news hast thou?”
“Oh, my gentle mistress, thy son Nero has been strangled at Ponza!” As she said these words, she hid her face in the robe of her mistress. At first Agrippina said nothing. The shock of this terrible news dulled her mind. Her face became white; her eyes frightful. She gasped. She ran her fingers through her hair and acted as if demented. Finally she spoke, but her voice was a hoarse whisper: “And this will be the end of all my children. Was ever woman born who has endured such suffering as mine has been? My cup of bitterness was already full. This added woe but strangles me as I drink. Tears have deserted mine eyes. The springs of my grief are dried up. Oh! my life is an arid desert, and those who have loved and trusted me have left their whitened bones strewn along the pathway of my weary life. What is it that keeps our spirits bound to our bodies when we yearn to tear them asunder?”
“May the mother of the gods comfort thee, O sad and grief-stricken soul!” said Psyche, as she burst into tears of tender sympathy.
Chapter XIX
BUT what of the young charioteer? What had Gyges been doing while Psyche was enduring the weary months of her hopeless imprisonment? On the day after the rainy and despairing night of his flight from Rome, he met Aldo at Tusculum, as had been agreed upon. Together they then lived among the oak woods and in the small villages in the Sabine Mountains, until the vigilance of their pursuers gradually decreased. They then went to Casinum, a small town on the Via Latina. Here Gyges found accommodations with a farmer who lived on the outskirts of the town. In order that his muscles might retain their strength and flexibility, the charioteer exercised himself by working in the fields and vineyards.
However, this monotonous life became too irksome. Gyges hungered for the excitement of the Circus and the companionship of his horses. He prevailed upon the farmer to give him a stable. He then ventured to Capua and bought a young unbroken stallion. Again he went and bought a second. Finally he became the happy possessor of four spirited steeds. So adroitly did he train them that in a short time they knew his every word, and they could run four abreast without the use of reins or harness.
Nevertheless, while he trained his horses, he did not cease to be tormented by the fearful uncertainty of Psyche’s fate. In everything he did or refrained from doing, her influence seemed to stimulate or to restrain him. In the temple of Apollo, that rested on the mountain towering high above the city, he would fervently offer up a prayer to the sun-god for her deliverance. On the summit of the mountain, which afforded one of the most beautiful views in Italy, he would rest between the marble columns of the temple and drink in the inspiring sight. His thoughts, like birds flying along the ways of the winds to their nests, would revert to his betrothed. He seemed to see in the bright flashes of the far-distant sea her glances; in the solemn mountain-tops covered with verdure her virtues covered with purity; in the bright valleys her depressed spirits. In the sparkling, transparent stream that gently touched the small town and sang a gentle song of peace, he pictured her precious life.