Domitia

“What, my love?”

“Cast him out – the beast, the crowned beast, the new Nero. The fifth that was and the eighth that will be.”

Duilia raised her eyebrows.

“My dear, I don’t in the least understand enigmas. I was never clever at them, though my parts are not generally accounted bad.”

“Mother, I pray you, I beseech you as you desire my happiness, do not harbor him under your roof. Cast him forth. What ho! Slaves!”

Domitian started and caught the girl by the shoulders.

“You would betray me?”

“I would have you thrust forth into the street.”

“To be murdered – torn to pieces by the blood-thirsty mob?”

“It is to save myself.”

“Thyself! I do thee no harm.”

“Do not attend to her. It is childish, maidenly timidity,” said Duilia, frowning at Domitia and shaking her finger at her. “She knows that, to screen you, we run great risks ourselves. We may be denounced – we may. – As the Gods love me! There is no saying what we may be called on to suffer. But I say, perish all the family rather than offend against hospitality.”

“Mother,” said Domitia. Her face was white as ashes. “Send him forth. If he were not a coward, a mean coward, he would not come here, to the house of two women, and shelter himself behind their skirts. Titus Flavius Domitianus, dost thou call thyself a man?”

He looked furtively at the girl, and muttered something that was unintelligible.

“If thou art a man, go forth, run us not into danger. If thou tarry here – I esteem thee as the basest of men.”

“I praise the Gods!” said Longa Duilia, in towering wrath, “she does not command in this house. That do I; and when I say welcome, there you stay, and she shall not gainsay me.”

“Mother – to welcome him, is to exile, to destroy me.”

“This is rank folly.”

“Mother, eject him!”

“I will not. I prithee, Domitian, when your dear father is proclaimed in Rome, – forget this girl’s folly, and remember only that I sheltered thee.”

“I will remember. I am not one to forget.”

“There is no escape,” sighed Domitia. “Whom the Gods will destroy – they pursue remorselessly. Well, be it so. – Stay then, coward! I am undone.”

CHAPTER XIX.

THE END OF VITELLIUS

“I never made a greater mistake in my life,” said Longa Duilia, “and I cannot think how you allowed me to make it.”

“What mistake?” asked the Chaldæan.

“The mistake of inviting the uncle in place of the nephew to my little supper. As to that supper, I flatter myself it was perfect – so finished in every detail, as becomes our position; so delicately flavored with reserve, as became my position as a widow; and you recommended me to invite Flavius Sabinus, the Præfect, – and now he has been. That delicate little supper thrown away, and my attentions so nicely adjusted to the circumstances, all that trouble and thought gone for nothing. Do you know that Flavius Sabinus is now in bits? He has been positively hacked to pieces. It is not the supper itself I regret, and my best Falernian wine – but I gave him a gold signet-ring with a cameo, representing Daphne. It had belonged to my dear Corbulo, and was valuable. But I considered it as a means to an end. And now – where is that ring? But for your counsel, I might have invited the nephew.”

“Madam, I counselled aright.”

“You have the face to say that? Do you not know that Sabinus has had his head struck off, and his body dragged by hooks down the Gemonian stair, and then positively torn to pieces – but there? Who has got hold of the ring? I have lost it – through you. You pretend to read the stars and peer into futurity!”

“Lady, I do see into what is to be, and counsel accordingly.”

“Oh, yes! glimpses as of light in a wood through thick foliage. Plenty of obscurity, very little light.”

“Madam, consider. Had you not invited the Præfect who has been, you would not have seen the nephew who is, and who came in at the supper to call his uncle away. It was thus he arrived at a knowledge of your house, and your friendly disposition, and thus it was that he was induced to throw himself on your protection.”

“There is something in that,” observed Duilia. “But how much better had the invitation been sent to Domitian himself.”

“On the contrary, that would not have been judicious, therefore I did not recommend it. Had the nephew come here along with his servants, immediately his escape from the Capitol was discovered, and they were tortured to disclose his place of concealment, they would have betrayed this house: but as it has happened they could not suppose he would take refuge here.”

“There is a good deal in that,” answered Duilia meditatively. “Well, it is only the ring that I regret. If I had but known – something of inconsiderable value but showy would have sufficed. Moreover, I might have done without that dish of British oysters – very expensive, and, as you see, thrown away. Yet! well, I enjoyed them.”

“Even that ring is not lost.”

“How so?”

“It is on Domitian’s finger.”

“You really say so?”

“When the Præfect bade his nephew and sons attempt to escape from the Capitol, he recommended the former to engage your protection, and in token of this, he put the ring that you had given him, on his nephew’s finger, that he might present it to you – should there be mistrust, in pledge that he came from Flavius Sabinus. I encountered Domitian in the street, I knew him and conducted him to your door, and obtained his admission. There was no necessity for him to show his ring, as I stood sponsor for him.”

“You are a good old creature,” said Duilia, “I withdraw any offensive expressions I may have used. To gratify you, I will pay that old woman, Senecio, his wage and bid him pack.”

“Then, madam, my services shall be amply repaid. The man himself is harmless. Engage him as a clown, – he is consumed with conceit, and so renders himself a laughing-stock. That is all he is qualified to be.”

“Go – send me Domitia. She has behaved like a fool.”

Shortly after the girl entered the room where was her mother. The latter at once exclaimed: —

“My dear, the ring is not lost. Domitian has it. By the foresight of the Gods, Sabinus removed it from his finger, and confided it to his nephew, before unhappy circumstances arose which might have led to the ring getting into the hands of any Cyrus or Dromo.”

“Was it to hear this that you sent for me?” asked Domitia sullenly.

“No, it was not. Your conscience must upbraid you. You have acted in an insensate manner. You have flouted and angered the son of him who in – perhaps half an hour – will be an Augustus, supreme in the state.”

“Mother, I do not like him.”

“Ye Gods of the Capitol! – confound them, by the way, they are all burnt! O Tellus and Terminus! Do you suppose we are to see and be courteous only to those whom we like? What cared I for that paragon of virtue, Flavius Sabinus, who talked to such an extent that I could not get in a word edgeways. But I gave him a nice little supper – and oysters from Britain, my best Falernian, and that ring of your father’s, because I thought he might be useful. And now Titus Flavius Domitianus is our guest – in hiding till matters are settled one way or the other – and you insult him to his face. It is not conduct worthy of your mother. You interfere with my plans.”

“What plans?”