NEITHER could Vinicius discover the cause of what had happened; and in the
bottom of his soul he was almost as much astonishe& as Chio. That those
people should treat him as they had, and, instead of avenging his attack, dress
his wounds carefully, he ascribed partly to the doctrine which they confessed,
more to Lygia, and a little, also, to his great significance. But their conduct with
Chilo simply went beyond his understanding of man's power of forgiveness. And
the question thrust itself into his mind: Why did they not kill the Greek? They
might have killed him with impunity. Ursus would have buried him in the garden,
or borne him in the dark to the Tiber, which during that period of night-murders,
committed by Caesar himself even, cast up human bodies so frequently in the
morning that no one inquired whence they came. To his thinking, the Christians
had not only the power, but the right to kill Chio. True, pity was not entirely a
stranger to that world to which the young patrician belonged. The Athenians
raised an altar to pity, and opposed for a long time the introduction of gladiatorial
combats into Athens. In Rome itself the conquered received pardon sometimes,
as, for in-stance, Calicratus, king of the Britons, who, taken prisoner in the time of
Claudius, and provided for by him bountifully, dwelt in the city in freedom. But
vengeance for a personal wrong seemed to Vinicius, as to all, proper and
justified. The neglect of it was entirely opposed to his spirit. True, he had heard in
Ostrianum that one should love even enemies; that, however, he considered as a
kind of theory without application in life. And now this passed through his head:
that perhaps they had not killed Chilo because the day was among festivals, or
was in some period of the moon during which it was not proper for Christians to
kill a man. He had heard that there are days among various nations on which it is
not permitted to begin war even. But why, in such a case, did they not deliver the
Greek up to justice? Why did the Apostle say that if a man offended seven times,
it was necessary to forgive him seven times; and why did Glaucus say to Chio,
"May God forgive thee, as I forgive thee"?
Chilo had done him the most terrible wrong that one man could do another. At
the very thought of how he would act with a man who killed Lygia, for instance,
the heart of Vinicius seethed up, as does water in a caldron; there were no
torments which he would not inflict in his vengeance! But Glaucus had forgiven;
Ursus, too, had forgiven, -- Ursus, who might in fact kill whomever he wished in
Rome with perfect impunity, for all he needed was to kill the king of the grove in
Nemi, and take his place. Could the gladiator holding that office to which he had
succeeded only by killing the
previous "king," resist the man whom Croton could not resist? There was only
one answer to all these questions: that they refrained from killing him through a
goodness so great that the like of it had not been in the world up to that time, and
through an unbounded love of man, which commands to forget one's self, one's
wrongs, one's happiness and misfortune, and live for others. What reward those
people were to receive for this, Vinicius heard in Ostrianum, but he could not
understand it. He felt, however, that the earthly life connected with the duty of
