Domitia

“Oh! that is easily settled. I thank the Immortals, divorce is easily obtained in Rome – with money, influence in Rome – to the end of time, my dear.”

“I do not desire to be divorced – I will not be divorced. I love Lucius and he loves me.”

“You are a child – just away from your dolls, and know nothing of life.”

“But, mother, there are laws. I will throw myself on the protection of the Senate.”

Longa Duilia laughed aloud. “Silly fool! laws bind the subjects and the weak, not princes and the strong. Make your mind up to accept what has happened. It is the work of destiny.”

“It is an infamous crime.”

“My child, do not use such words, what might be crime among common folk is pleasantry among princes. They all do it. It is their right. It is of no avail your attempting resistance. Domitian has taken a fancy to you – he is young, good-looking, Cæsar, all sorts of honors have been heaped on him, and he has but to put out a rake and comb together all the good in the world. And” – she drew nearer to her daughter, – “he may be Emperor some day. Titus has but one lumpy, ugly girl – no son.”

“I care not. I hate him! let me go back to Lamia!”

“That is impossible.”

“Not if I will!”

“You cannot. You would be stayed by the servants here.”

“But you – cannot you help me? O mother, if you have any love for me! For the sake of my dear, dear father!”

“Even if I would, I could not. Why, there is not a court in Rome, not the Senate even can afford you protection and release. The Flavians are up now.”

“I will appeal to Vespasian, to the Emperor!”

“He is in Egypt.”

The girl panted and beat her head with her hands.

“Lamia! he shall release me.”

“He needs some one to release him.”

“How so?”

“He insulted Domitian in the Senate House – all because of you, and is under arrest. For less matters, than what he has done, lives have been lost.”

“He will never – no, never!” she could not finish her sentence, her heart was boiling over, and she burst into a paroxysm of sobs.

“The Gods! the Gods help me!” she cried.

“My dear Domitia, you might as well call on the walls to assist you. The Gods! They are just as bad as mortals. You may cry, but they will look between their fingers, accept your prayers and offerings and laugh at you as a fool. Why, as the Gods love me! Does not the family derive from Lamius, and was not he the child of Hercules and Omphale? It was very naughty and shocking, and all that sort of thing – but they all do it, and are not in the least disposed to assist you. On the contrary, they will back up the ravisher.”

“Then I have no help – save in myself. I will never be his.”

“Be advised by me, you foolish child. When you come under a cherry tree you pluck all the ripe fruit; and what you cannot eat yourself you give to your friends. Do you not perceive that having been fortunate enough to catch the fancy of the young Cæsar, you can use this fancy and make large profit out of it? He is already very freely distributing offices to all his friends and such as most grossly flatter him. What may not you obtain for me! That is if I take a liking for any one and wish to marry him, you must positively obtain the proconsulship of Syria or Egypt for him. And as to Lamia, he can be choked off with a prætorship.”

The veil was plucked aside, and Domitian entered.

Longa Duilia rose; not so Domitia Longina.

He stood for a moment looking at the girl.

“Saucy still?” he said.

“Wrathful at this treatment,” she answered, with her eyes on the ground, and her hands clasped. “Because I would have denied to you a suppliant, the hospitality of our house, must I, unsoliciting it, be forced to accept yours?”

“Domitia, has your mother informed you what I have designed for you?”

“I should prefer that you concerned yourself with your prætorial duties.”

Domitian bit his lip. He had been invested with the office of prætor of the city, but in his overweening conceit deemed it unworthy of him to discharge the duties of the office.

“It is my intent, Domitia, to elevate you into the Flavian family.”

“O how gracious!” sneered the girl, – “taken up like Trygdeus.”

“Domitia!” exclaimed her mother, then at once perceiving that the allusion was lost on the uneducated prince, she said: —

“Quite so, on the wings of the Bird of Jove.”[7 - The reference was to the “Peace” of Aristophanes. Trygdeus was carried up to the Gods on the back of a dung-beetle.]

The young man became crimson. He was convinced that there was some bitter sneer in the words of Domitia, and he was ashamed at his inability to comprehend the allusion.

“What I intend for you,” said he, moving from the doorway to where he could observe her face, “what I intend for you is what there is not another woman in Rome who would not give her jewels to obtain.”

“Then I pray you address yourself to them. Pay your debts with their subscriptions, and leave me who am content to be disregarded, in the tranquillity I so love – with my husband, Ælius Lamia.”

“Lamia!” laughed Domitian. “You are to be divorced from him. Your mother is willing.”

“My mother has no more power over me. I am out of the paternal family.”

“You will consent yourself.”

“Who will make me?”

“That will I. It is easy to rend apart – ”

“Any fool can break, not all can bind.”

“Domitia, be advised and do not incense me.”

“I care not for myself. I have but one wish. Let me go. Take, if you will, what is my property, take that of Lamia, but let us retire together to some little farm and be quiet there, drive us, if you will, out of Italy – but do not separate us.”

“You talk at random. Follow me.”

He led the way, stood in the entrance, holding back the curtain, and Duilia drew her daughter from her seat.