Cornelius Palma, after the Prince retired, was apparently for some space busied with his reflections. He then talked in a whispering manner with the secretary, and moved towards an extremity of the chamber. But the moment Silo perceived this, he plucked my sleeve, and drew me to the other end of our closet, where, as I have told you, the light had admittance in a similar manner. Here another of the imperial apartments was visible in equal distinctness; and in it appeared Athanasia and her friend, as waiting now at length in entire composure the moment when they should be summoned.

Palma entering, both rose, and he, returning their salutation, remained before them for a moment in silence, his eyes fixed on Athanasia. It was to Aurelius, nevertheless, that his first words were addressed:—“From what has been reported of your behaviour at the execution of Cotilius, I fear there is nothing to be gained by speaking to you, concerning the only means by which your own safety can yet be secured. You are obstinate, old man, in your superstition?”—“Noble Palma,” said the priest, “contempt is the only thing I fear from men. But I thank my [pg 329]God, that it is the only thing I have it in my power to avoid.”—“I will not argue with you,” answered Palma, pointing to a door near him:—“It was not with any purpose of bending you, that I undertook this painful office. I desire to speak in freedom with one whose case is, I trust, less hopeless.”

The old man, pointing to his fetters, said meekly, “Let them guard me whither it pleases you.”

“Sir,” said Athanasia, “I pray you let Aurelius remain; imagine not that I shall either hear or answer less freely because of my friend’s presence.”

“He will, at least, retire to the other end of the chamber,” said Palma—“and interfere no farther.”

The priest drew back;—Athanasia, on her part, seeing that Palma hesitated, and seemed at a loss how to begin, said to him in a tone of modest composure:—“Noble sir, if your purpose be indeed as kind as I think it is, I pray you spare me at least the pain that is needless, and spare yourself what I am sure is painful to you. You see my youth and my sex, and it is not unnatural for you to think as you do; but know that my faith is fixed, and that I hope I shall not be deserted, when I strive even at the last moment to do it no dishonour.”

“This gray beard,” said Palma, “has made you, then, thoroughly a Christian?”

“I would it were so,” she answered—“I would to God it were so!”

“Lady,” resumed Palma, “we have knowledge both of your father’s high character, and of your own amiable dispositions. If you persist in this manner, you will give grief to Cæsar; and as for your family, [pg 330]have you yet seriously considered into what misery they must be plunged?”

“Sir,” she replied, “this is cruel kindness. I have considered all things.”

“Young maiden,” continued Palma, “the touch of the physician’s knife is painful, yet his hand must not falter. But I have sent for those, who, I hope, may speak more effectually.”

The Senator turned from the pedestal on which he had been leaning, and walked to the door over against where Aurelius was sitting: and after a moment had elapsed, there entered, even as I had anticipated, both her uncles, Lucius and Velius. Behind them came, wrapped in her consecrated veil, the Priestess of Apollo; and last of all, gazing wildly around, her apparel disordered, the friend of her youth, the sister of her bosom,—she to whom in all things, save one, Athanasia’s heart had ever been laid open. The two Patricians advanced, deeply dejected, towards the place where Athanasia stood waiting their approach. The stately Priestess, walking yet more slowly, lifted the veil from her face, which was pale and calm as marble. But when the youthful companion at last rested her eye upon her friend, and the fettered hands clasped together on that bosom, she rushed past them all, and was folded in a cold embrace; for though Athanasia pressed Sempronia to her bosom, I saw also that she trembled from head to foot, and that her eyes were riveted on those who approached with seriousness more terrible than the passion of young sympathy.

“Athanasia,” said Lucius, taking her by the hand, “look not upon us thus; we come as to a daughter.”

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“Dearest,” said old Velius, “listen to thy true friends. Do you put more faith in the words of strangers than in the blood of kindred—the affection of your father’s brothers—the guardians of his dear orphan?”

“Wo is me!” said Athanasia—“O God, strengthen me! Why, oh, why am I forced to wound these kind hearts! Have pity upon me, have pity upon me—you know not what you speak of, else you would all be silent.”

“Weep,” said the Priestess; “weep, and weep largely. There is yet time to repent. Abjure this madness; let the last of your tears be shed upon the altars of your paternal Gods, and they also will be merciful. Nay, tremble not when you hear my voice, Athanasia. I love you as tenderly as the rest, and if you have deceived me also, I have long since pardoned.”

The Priestess kissed her forehead; and she bowed her head, weeping at length audibly. But Athanasia speedily recovered herself, and gently removing the hands of Sempronia, stood erect again in the midst.

“Dear friends,” said she, “the moments you have to be with me are numbered; what avails it that they should be spent in words that can have no effect? I have been baptized in the name of the one true God—I have partaken of the symbols of the Christian mystery—and I have no more power to bring myself out of this peril, than he that stands in the front rank—without sword or buckler—deprived of all things but his honour.”

“Athanasia!” said Velius, “alas! my dear girl, what madness is this? Do you hold yourself wiser than all the wise men, and all the good, and all the great men [pg 332]that have ever lived in Rome? Do you deem yourself able to penetrate mysteries from which all the sages of the earth have retreated with humility? Consider with yourself—remember the modesty that might be becoming in your tender years—and, I must speak the truth, your ignorance.”

“Oh, sir!” she answered, “believe not that I have been brought into this place, because of my being puffed up with emptiness of conceit. I know well that I am a poor, young, unlearned creature; but God gives not according to our deserts; and because I am poor and ignorant, must I therefore reject the promise of his riches, and the great light that has been manifested to me,—which, would to God it had also been to you, despite the perils which a dark world has thrown around it.”

“O Athanasia!” said young Sempronia, “I know the secrets of your heart, although you have kept from me some of them. Think, dear sister, of all the love that we bear to you—and, oh! think of Valerius.”

“The more, then, is the sacrifice!” said Athanasia. “Caius Valerius also is a Christian—at least I hope in God he will soon be sealed into our brotherhood.”

“Amen! amen!” said Aurelius.

The Priestess turned round when he uttered this, and observing that he also was fettered, “Blasphemer!” cried she, “behold the end of your frenzy. Your eyes are dim, your clay is already yearning, it may be, to be sprinkled into ashes; but behold your victim. Ye Gods that see all things, have mercy upon the errors of deceived, ensnared, murdered youth! Hoary Apostate! feeble though you be, may strength be given to you in [pg 333]anger, that you may taste the full struggle and the true agony. May you be strong to wrestle, that you may fall slowly, and feel your fall! Would to the Gods, just and merciful, that you might struggle and fall alone!”

“Rash woman,” said the manacled Saint, “most surely your last wish is mine. But why is it that you have come hither with cruel words, to imbitter equally the last moments of a life that is dear to you, and a life that you despise? You speak of ignorance and of deceit. Little know ye who are the deceived. We are the servants of the living God, whose light will soon shine abroad among the nations, and quench glimmering tapers, fashioned with the hands of men, with which, hitherto, ye have sat contented amidst darkness. Cæsar may bind and slay—but think ye that the spirit is his to do with it what he will? Think ye that chains and dungeons, and the sword of man can alter the course of things that are to be, or shake from its purpose the will of Him, in whom, blind and ignorant, ye refuse to behold the image of the Maker of all—shutting eyes, and ears, and your proud hearts; and blaspheming against the God of heaven, whose glory ye ascribe to stocks and stones, and to the ghosts of wicked and bloody tyrants, long since mouldered into dust,—and to the sun, and the moon, and the stars of the sky, which God set there to rule the day and the night, even as he lets loose his winds to scatter the leaves of the forest, and to lift up the waves of the great deep?—Leave us, I beseech you.—The young and the old are alike steadfast, for God is our strength, and he bestows it on them that ask for it in the name of the Redeemer.”

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“Peace, thou accursed!” said the Priestess; “I serve the altar, and came not hither to hear the Gods of heaven and earth insulted by the lips of hardened impiety.—Athanasia! will you go with us, or will you stay here, and partake the fate of this madman?”

“O God!” cried the maiden; “how shall I speak that they may at length hear me!—Friends—dear friends—if you have any love, any compassion, I pray you kiss me once, and bid me farewell kindly, and lay my ashes in the sepulchre of my fathers—beside the urn of my mother. Fear not that I will disturb the repose of the place—I shall die in anger against no one, and I shall have rest at length when I am relieved from this struggle. Pardon, if in any thing besides I ever gave you pain—remember none of my offences but this—think of me kindly. And go now, dear friends; kiss my lips in love, and leave me to bear that which must be borne, since there is no escape but in lying, and in baseness, and in utter perdition here and hereafter. May the Lord strengthen his day soon, and may ye all bless the full light, although now ye are startled by the redness of the dawn! Farewell—kiss me, Velius—kiss me, Lucius—my aunt also will kiss me.”

They did kiss her, and tears were mingled with their embraces; and they said no more, but parted from her where she was. Palma himself lifted the desolate Sempronia from the ground, and he and her father carried her away senseless, her tresses sweeping the pavement as they moved.

The prisoners were alone. “The moment is come,” said Silo; “now, sir, prepare yourself to risk every thing where every thing may be gained.”

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He did not whisper this, but spake the words boldly; and ere I could either answer any thing, or form any guess as to his meaning, he had leaped down from my side, and thrown open another secret spring. Silo rushed in, and I followed him. It was all done so rapidly, that I scarce remember how. I cannot, indeed, forget the wild and vacant stare of Athanasia, the cry which escaped from her lips, nor the fervour with which she sunk into my embrace. But all the rest is a dream. The door closed swiftly behind us;—swiftly I ran, bearing the maiden in my arms through all the long course of those deserted chambers. Door after door flew open before us. All alike, breathless and speechless, we ran on. We reached the last of the chambers, the wide and echoing saloon, ere my heart had recovered from the first palpitation of surprise; and a moment after we breathed once more the free air of heaven.

“Stop not,” said I, “for the sake of God. Hasten, Silo, it is you that must guide us.”—“Ha!” said he, “already have they perceived it? Great God! after all, is it in vain?” We heard shout echoing shout, and the clapping of doors. “Treachery, treachery! Escape, escape!”—and trumpet and horn mingled in the clamour of surprise, wrath, terror. “Ride, ride,” screamed a voice high over all the tumult—“ride this instant—guard every avenue—search every corner—the wing of Domitian!”

“We are lost,” said Silo;—“we can never reach the gate.”

“To the Temple of Apollo!” said I; “the Priestess will shelter Athanasia.”

“Thank God,” whispered Silo, “there is one chance [pg 336]more.”—And so we began again to run swiftly, keeping close beneath the shaded wall of the edifice, and then threading many narrow passages of the hanging gardens of Adonis, we reached indeed the adjoining court of the Palatine, and found ourselves, where all was as yet silent and undisturbed, under the sacred portico. The great gate was barred. Athanasia herself pointed out a postern, and we stood within the temple.

It was filled as before, (for here the alternations of day and night made no difference,) with the soft and beautiful radiance proceeding from the tree of lamps. But the fire on the altar burned high and clear, as if recently trimmed, and behind its blaze stood one of the ministering damsels. Her hand held the chain of the censer, and she was swinging it slowly, while the clouds of fragrant smoke rolled high up above the flames;—and the near light, and the intervening smoke, and the occupation with which she was busied, prevented her from at first perceiving what intrusion had been made on the solitude of the place. Athanasia ran on, and clasping the knees of the astonished girl with her fettered hands, began to implore her by the memory of old affection and companionship, and for the sake of all that was dear to her, to give escape, if escape were possible—at least to give concealment. The girl had dropped the censer from her hand, and seemed utterly confused, and unable to guess the meaning of what she saw and heard. “Lady!” cried Silo, falling by the side of Athanasia—“Oh, lady! stand not here considering, for this is the very moment of utmost peril. Behold these fetters—they tell you from what her flight hath been.”

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The girl grasped the hands of Athanasia, and gazed upon the manacles, and still seemed quite amazed and stupified; and while Silo was renewing his entreaties, we heard suddenly some one trying to open the postern which the freedman had fastened behind us. Once and again a violent hand essayed to undo the bolt, and then all was quiet again. And in a moment after, the great gate was itself thrown open, and the Priestess entered, followed by her two brothers, who supported between them the yet faint and weeping young Sempronia.

In a moment Athanasia had rushed across the temple, and knelt down with her forehead to the ground, close by where the feet of her haughty kinswoman were planted.

“Unhappy!” said she; “by what magic do I behold you here? How have you escaped? and why—oh! why fled hither? Think ye, that here, in the Temple of Apollo, the priestess of an insulted God can give shelter to blasphemy flying from the arms of justice? Ha! and he, too, is here!—Outcast! how durst thou? Speak, unhappy Athanasia—every thing is dark, and I see only that you have brought hither——”—“Friends, friends—oh! blame them not,” interrupted the maiden—“Oh! blame them not for venturing all to save me. Oh! help us, and help speedily—for they search every where, and they may speedily be here.”

“Here?” cried the priestess—“who, I pray you? Ha! run, fly, bolt the door. If Cæsar speaks, I answer.”

The ring of arms, and voices of angry men, were heard distinctly approaching. In a moment more we could hear them talking together beneath the very portico, and trying, in their turn, to thrust open the massive [pg 338]valves of the temple. “Who calls there?” cried the Priestess—“Who calls and knocks? If a suppliant approaches, let him come as a suppliant.”—“Castor! We are no suppliants,” answered a rough voice:—“Dead or alive, you must give up our pretty Christians. Come, come, my sly masters; yield, yield, there is no flying from Cæsar.”

“Peace, insolent!” quoth the Priestess—“peace, and begone! This is the Temple of Apollo, and ye shall find no Christians here. Turn, rude man, and dread the arm that guarded Delphos!” And saying so, she at length lifted up Athanasia, and moved towards the other extremity of the fane, where, as I had occasion once to tell you before, the private chamber of the Priestess was situated on the right hand beyond the statue of Apollo. In passing the image she halted an instant, laid her hand on her eyes, and kissed its feet, with a murmur of supplication; but that was her only utterance: and the rest gave none.

She thus led us across the chamber in which, on a former day, I had heard Athanasia sing; and in like manner, having taken a lamp in her hand, on through the long passages which conduct towards the receptacle wherein the Sybilline prophecies are said to be preserved. She opened the door which she had, on that earlier day, told me led into the repository of those mysterious scrolls. Two inner doors appeared before us; that to the left she opened likewise, and we perceived, descending from its threshold, a dark flight of steps, as if down into the centre of the rock.

“Here,” said she, as she paused, and held the lamp over the gloomy perspective—“here, at last, I leave [pg 339]you, having already done too much, whether I think of the God I serve, or of Trajan, or of myself. But for the blood of kindred not little may be dared. Go with her, since you have come with her. More I cannot do. Here—take this lamp; the door at the bottom is fastened only from within; let it fall behind you, and make what speed you may.”

“One thing,” said Silo, “had better be done ere you depart;” and so, very adroitly, he, by means of his jailer’s key, relieved both of them from their fetters. He then whispered, “Go no farther, Valerius; you may rest assured that no one suspects us.” I saw that he designed to return into the courts of the Palatine, and so proceed homewards, as if ignorant of every thing that had occurred. The good freedman had no other course to pursue, either in duty to himself or to his family. But for me, all my cares were here. I squeezed by the hand both Lucius and Velius, and both warmly returned my pressure. The Priestess gave the lamp into my hand, and the door was shut upon us; and we began, with hearts full of thankfulness, but not yet composed enough to taste of lightness—with thankfulness uppermost in our confused thoughts, and with no steady footsteps, to descend into the unknown abyss.

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