The Last Days of Pompeii | Page 6

we sons of light, We shrink from this
child of night; From the grasp of the blind girl free us-- We yearn for
the eyes that see us-- We are for night too gay, In your eyes we behold
the day-- O buy--O buy the flowers!'
'I must have yon bunch of violets, sweet Nydia,' said Glaucus, pressing
through the crowd, and dropping a handful of small coins into the
basket; 'your voice is more charming than ever.'
The blind girl started forward as she heard the Athenian's voice; then as
suddenly paused, while the blood rushed violently over neck, cheek,
and temples.
'So you are returned!' said she, in a low voice; and then repeated half to
herself, 'Glaucus is returned!'
'Yes, child, I have not been at Pompeii above a few days. My garden
wants your care, as before; you will visit it, I trust, to-morrow. And
mind, no garlands at my house shall be woven by any hands but those
of the pretty Nydia.'
Nydia smiled joyously, but did not answer; and Glaucus, placing in his
breast the violets he had selected, turned gaily and carelessly from the
crowd.

'So she is a sort of client of yours, this child?' said Clodius.
'Ay--does she not sing prettily? She interests me, the poor slave!
Besides, she is from the land of the Gods' hill--Olympus frowned upon
her cradle--she is of Thessaly.'
'The witches' country.'
'True: but for my part I find every woman a witch; and at Pompeii, by
Venus! the very air seems to have taken a love-philtre, so handsome
does every face without a beard seem in my eyes.'
'And lo! one of the handsomest in Pompeii, old Diomed's daughter, the
rich Julia!' said Clodius, as a young lady, her face covered by her veil,
and attended by two female slaves, approached them, in her way to the
baths.
'Fair Julia, we salute thee!' said Clodius.
Julia partly raised her veil, so as with some coquetry to display a bold
Roman profile, a full dark bright eye, and a cheek over whose natural
olive art shed a fairer and softer rose.
'And Glaucus, too, is returned!' said she, glancing meaningly at the
Athenian. 'Has he forgotten,' she added, in a half-whisper, 'his friends
of the last year?'
'Beautiful Julia! even Lethe itself, if it disappear in one part of the earth,
rises again in another. Jupiter does not allow us ever to forget for more
than a moment: but Venus, more harsh still, vouchsafes not even a
moment's oblivion.'
'Glaucus is never at a loss for fair words.'
'Who is, when the object of them is so fair?'
'We shall see you both at my father's villa soon,' said Julia, turning to
Clodius.

'We will mark the day in which we visit you with a white stone,'
answered the gamester.
Julia dropped her veil, but slowly, so that her last glance rested on the
Athenian with affected timidity and real boldness; the glance bespoke
tenderness and reproach.
The friends passed on.
'Julia is certainly handsome,' said Glaucus.
'And last year you would have made that confession in a warmer tone.'
'True; I was dazzled at the first sight, and mistook for a gem that which
was but an artful imitation.'
'Nay,' returned Clodius, 'all women are the same at heart. Happy he
who weds a handsome face and a large dower. What more can he
desire?'
Glaucus sighed.
They were now in a street less crowded than the rest, at the end of
which they beheld that broad and most lovely sea, which upon those
delicious coasts seems to have renounced its prerogative of terror--so
soft are the crisping winds that hover around its bosom, so glowing and
so various are the hues which it takes from the rosy clouds, so fragrant
are the perfumes which the breezes from the land scatter over its depths.
From such a sea might you well believe that Aphrodite rose to take the
empire of the earth.
'It is still early for the bath,' said the Greek, who was the creature of
every poetical impulse; 'let us wander from the crowded city, and look
upon the sea while the noon yet laughs along its billows.'
'With all my heart,' said Clodius; 'and the bay, too, is always the most
animated part of the city.'
Pompeii was the miniature of the civilization of that age. Within the

narrow compass of its walls was contained, as it were, a specimen of
every gift which luxury offered to power. In its minute but glittering
shops, its tiny palaces, its baths, its forum, its theatre, its circus--in the
energy yet corruption, in the refinement yet the vice, of its people, you
beheld a model of the whole empire. It was a toy, a plaything, a
showbox, in