If you survive the contest, you perish in the first hour of victory.They detest you for your moderation; they are eager for blood and plunder.I have risked my life to bring you this warning; but that is of little moment.Farewell!--Be happy."Caesar stopped her."Do you fly from my thanks, dear Zoe?""I wish not for your thanks, but for your safety;--I desire not to defraud Valeria or Servilia of one caress, extorted from gratitude or pity.Be my feelings what they may, I have learnt in a fearful school to endure and to suppress them.I have been taught to abase a proud spirit to the claps and hisses of the vulgar;--to smile on suitors who united the insults of a despicable pride to the endearments of a loathsome fondness;-- to affect sprightliness with an aching head, and eyes from which tears were ready to gush;--to feign love with curses on my lips, and madness in my brain.Who feels for me any esteem,--any tenderness? Who will shed a tear over the nameless grave which will soon shelter from cruelty and scorn the broken heart of the poor Athenian girl? But you, who alone have addressed her in her degradation with a voice of kindness and respect, farewell.
Sometimes think of me,--not with sorrow;--no; I could bear your ingratitude, but not your distress.Yet, if it will not pain you too much, in distant days, when your lofty hopes and destinies are accomplished,--on the evening of some mighty victory, --in the chariot of some magnificent triumph,--think on one who loved you with that exceeding love which only the miserable can feel.Think that, wherever her exhausted frame may have sunk beneath the sensibilities of a tortured spirit,--in whatever hovel or whatever vault she may have closed her eyes,--whatever strange scenes of horror and pollution may have surrounded her dying bed, your shape was the last that swam before her sight--your voice the last sound that was ringing in her ears.Yet turn your face to me, Caesar.Let me carry away one last look of those features, and then "--He turned round.He looked at her.
He hid his face on her bosom, and burst into tears.With sobs long and loud, and convulsive as those of a terrified child, he poured forth on her bosom the tribute of impetuous and uncontrollable emotion.He raised his head; but he in vain struggled to restore composure to the brow which had confronted the frown of Sylla, and the lips which had rivalled the eloquence of Cicero.He several times attempted to speak, but in vain; and his voice still faltered with tenderness, when, after a pause of several minutes, he thus addressed her:
"My own dear Zoe, your love has been bestowed on one who, if he cannot merit, can at least appreciate and adore you.Beings of similar loveliness, and similar devotedness of affection, mingled, in all my boyish dreams of greatness, with visions of curule chairs and ivory cars, marshalled legions and laurelled fasces.Such I have endeavoured to find in the world; and, in their stead, I have met with selfishness, with vanity, with frivolity, with falsehood.The life which you have preserved is a boon less valuable than the affection "--"Oh! Caesar," interrupted the blushing Zoe, "think only on your own security at present.If you feel as you speak,--but you are only mocking me,--or perhaps your compassion "--"By Heaven!--by every oath that is binding "--"Alas! alas! Caesar, were not all the same oaths sworn yesterday to Valeria? But I will trust you, at least so far as to partake your present dangers.Flight may he necessary:--form your plans.
Be they what they may, there is one who, in exile, in poverty, in peril, asks only to wander, to beg, to die with you.""My Zoe, I do not anticipate any such necessity.To renounce the conspiracy without renouncing the principles on which it was originally undertaken,--to elude the vengeance of the Senate without losing the confidence of the people,--is, indeed, an arduous, but not an impossible, task.I owe it to myself and to my country to make the attempt.There is still ample time for consideration.At present I am too happy in love to think of ambition or danger."They had reached the door of a stately palace.Caesar struck it.
It was instantly opened by a slave.Zoe found herself in a magnificent hall, surrounded by pillars of green marble, between which were ranged the statues of the long line of Julian nobles.
"Call Endymion," said Caesar.
The confidential freed-man made his appearance, not without a slight smile, which his patron's good nature emboldened him to hazard, at perceiving the beautiful Athenian.
"Arm my slaves, Endymion; there are reasons for precaution.Let them relieve each other on guard during the night.Zoe, my love, my preserver, why are your cheeks so pale? Let me kiss some bloom into them.How you tremble! Endymion, a flask of Samian and some fruit.Bring them to my apartments.This way, my sweet Zoe."...
