Vergilius | Page 3

to value truth as the better part of honor--a view not common then, but therein was a new light, spreading mysteriously.
"Dear Lady Lucia," said he, "I cannot amuse you with idle words. I fear to speak, and yet silence would serve me ill. I offer not the strength of my arms nor the fleetness of my feet, for they may fail me tomorrow; nor my courage, for that has never been tried; nor the renown of my fathers, for that is not mine to give; nor my life, for that belongs to my country; nor my fortune, for I should blush to offer what may be used to buy cattle. I would give a thing greater and more lasting than all of these. It is my love."
The girl turned half away, blushing pink. All had flung off the mask of comedy and now wore a look of surprise.
"By my faith!" said the poet, "this young knight meant his words."
"A man of sincerity, upon my soul!" said the old philosopher. "I have put my hope in him, and so shall Rome. A lucky girl is she, for has he not riches, talent, honor, temperance, courage, and the beauty of a god? And was I not his teacher?"
"My brave Vergilius," the matron answered, "you are like the knights of old I have heard my father tell of. They had such a way with them--never a smile and a melancholy look in their faces when they spoke of love. I give you the crown of gallantry, and, if she be willing, you shall walk with her in the garden. That is your reward."
Vergilius, advancing, took the girl's hand and kissed it.
"Will you go with me?" said he.
"On one condition," she answered, looking down at the folds of her tunic.
"And it is?"
"That you will entertain me with philosophy and the poets," she answered, with a smile.
"And with no talk of love," the matron added, as Arria took his arm.
They walked through the long hall of the palace, over soft rugs and great mosaics, and between walls aglow with tints of sky and garden. These two bore with them a tender feeling as they passed the figures of embattled horse and host in carven wood, and mural painting and colored mosaic and wrought metal--symbols of the martial spirit of the empire now oddly in contrast with their own. They came out upon a peristyle overlooking an ample garden wherein were vines, flowers, and fruit trees.
"You have a way of words," said she. "It is almost possible to believe you."
He stopped and for a long moment looked into her eyes. "I love you, sweet girl," he said, softly; "I love you. As I live, I speak the truth."
"And you a man!" she exclaimed, incredulously.
"Ay, strange as it may be, a Roman."
"My mother has told me," said she, looking down at her sandal, "that when a man speaks, it is well to listen but never to believe."
"They are not easy to understand--these men and women," said he, thoughtfully. "Sometimes I think they would be nobler if they were dumb as dogs. Albeit I suppose they would find a new way of lying. But, O sweet sister of Appius, try to believe me, though you believe no other, and I--I shall believe you always."
"You had better not," said she, with a merry glance.
"I must."
"But you will doubt me soon, for I shall say that I do not love you."
For a little he knew not how to answer. She turned away, looking off at the Capitoline, where the toil and art of earth had wrought to show the splendor of heaven. Its beautiful, barbaric temples were glowing in the sunlight.
"Life would be too serious if there were no dissimulation." She looked up at him as she spoke, and he saw a little quiver in her curved lips.
"That bow of your lips--I should think it fashioned by Praxiteles--and it is for the arrows of truth."
"But a girl--she must deceive a little."
They were now among the vines.
"I do not understand you."
"Stupid fellow!" said she, in a whisper, as she turned, looking up at him. "Son of Varo, lovers are not ever to be trusted. Shall I tell you a story? One day I was in the Via Sacra and a young man caught and held me for a moment and tried to touch my lips--that boy, Antipater, a good-looking wretch!"
She gave her shoulders a little shrug and drew her robe closer. "He had come out of the Basilica Julia, and I am sure he had been over-drinking. I cried 'Help!' and quickly a man came and stood between us; and oh! young sir, as I live, it was our great father Augustus, and Antipater knelt before him.
"'Young man,' said the father--and his eyes shone--'rise and look yonder. Do you see the