Zenobia; or, the Fall of Palmyra

by William Ware

'Why, sister,' said Faustula, whom I held, and in pointing out to whom the most remarkable objects of the strange scene I had been occupied, 'why does our mother love to go away and kill the Romans? I am sure she would not like to kill you,'--looking up in my face,--'and are not you a Roman? She will not let me hurt even a little fly or ant, but tells me they feel as much to be killed, as if Sapor were to put his great foot on me and tread me into the sand.'

'But the Romans,' said Julia, 'are coming to take away our city from us, and perhaps do us a great deal of harm, and must they not be hindered?'

'But,' replied Faustula, 'would they do it if Zenobia asked them not to do it? Did you ever know any body who could help doing as she asked them? I wish Aurelian could only have come here and heard her speak, and seen her smile, and I know he would not have wanted to hurt her. If I were a Queen, I would never fight.'

'I do not believe you would,' said I; 'you do not seem as if you could hurt any body or any thing.'

'And now is not Zenobia better than I? I think perhaps she is only going to frighten the Romans, and then coming home again.'

'O no--do not think so,' said Livia; 'has not Zenobia fought a great many battles before this? If she did not fight battles, we should have no city to live in.'

'If it is so good to fight battles, why does she prevent me from quarrelling, or even speaking unkindly? I think she ought to teach me to fight. I do not believe that men or women ought to fight any more than children; and I dare say if they first saw and talked with one another before they fought, as I am told to do, they never would do it. I find that if I talk and tell what I think, then I do not want to quarrel.--See! is that Zenobia? How bright she shines! I wish she would come back.'

'Wait a little while, and she will come again,' said Livia, 'and bring Aurelian perhaps with her. Should you not like to see Aurelian?'

'No, I am sure I should not. I do not want to see any one that does not love Zenobia.'

So the little child ran on, often uttering truths, too obviously truths for mankind to be governed by them, yet containing the best philosophy of life. Truth and happiness are both within easy reach. We miss them because they are so near. We look over them, and grasp at distant and more imposing objects, wrapped in the false charms which distance lends.