WHILE walking with Lygia through the garden, Vinicius described briefly, in
words from the depth of his heart, that which a short time before he had
confessed to the Apostles, -- that is, the alarm of his soul, the changes which had
taken place in him, and, finally, that immense yearning which had veiled life from
him, beginning with the hour when he left Miriam's dwelling. He confessed to
Lygia that he had tried to forget her, but was not able. He thought whole days
and nights of her. That little cross of boxwood twigs which she had left reminded
him of her, -- that cross, which he had placed in the lararium and revered
involuntarily as something divine. And he yearned more and more every moment,
for love was stronger than he, and had seized his soul altogether, even when he
was at the house of Aulus. The Parcae weave the thread of life for others; but
love, yearning, and melancholy had woven it for him. His acts had been evil, but
they had their origin in love. He had loved her when she was in the house of
Aulus, when she was on the Palatine, when he saw her in Ostrianum listening to
Peter's words, when he went with Croton to carry her away, when she watched at
his bedside, and when she deserted him. Then came Chilo, who discovered her
dwelling, and advised him to seize her a second time; but he chose to punish
Chilo, and go to the Apostles to ask for truth and for her. And blessed be that
moment in which such a thought came to his head, for now he is at her side, and
she will not flee from him, as the last time she fled from the house of Miriam.
"I did not flee from thee," said Lygia. "Then why didst thou go?"
She raised her iris-colored eyes to him, and, bending her blushing face, said,--
"Thou knowest --"
Vinicius was silent for a moment from excess of happiness, and began again to
speak, as his eyes were opened gradually to this, -- that she was different utterly
from Roman women, and resembled Pomponia alone. Besides, he could not
explain this to her clearly, for he could not define his feeling, -- that beauty of a
new kind altogether was coming to the world in her, such beauty as had not been
in it thus far; beauty which is not merely a statue, but a spirit. He told her
something, howcver, which filled her with delight, -- that he loved her just
because she had fled from him, and that she would be sacred to him at his
hearth. Then, seizing her hand, he could not continue; he merely gazed on her
with rapture as on his life's happiness which he had won, and repeated her
name, as if to assure himself that he had found her and was near her.
"Oh, Lygia, Lygia!"
At last he inquired what had taken place in her mind, and she confessed that she
had loved him while in the house of Aulus, and that if he had taken her back to
them from the Palatine she would have told them of her love and tried to soften
their anger against him.
"I swear to thee," said Vinicius, "that it had not even risen in my mind to take thee
from Aulus. Petronius will tell thee sometime that I told him then how I loved and
wished to marry thee. 'Let her anoint my door with wolf fat, and let her sit at my
hearth,' said I to him. But he ridiculed me, and gave Caesar the idea of
