NEXT morning, Petronius had barely finished dressing in the unctorium when Vinicius came, called by Tiresias. He knew that no news had come from the gates. This information, instead of comforting him, as a proof that Lygia was still in Rome, weighed him down still more, for he began to think that Ursus might have conducted her out of the city immediately after her seizure, and hence before Petronius’s slaves had begun to keep watch at the gates. It is true that in autumn, when the days become shorter, the gates are closed rather early; but it is true, also, that they are opened for persons going out, and the number of these is considerable. It was possible, also, to pass the walls by other ways, well known, for instance, to slaves who wish to escape from the city. Vinicius had sent out his people to all roads leading to the provinces, to watchmen in the smaller towns, proclaiming a pair of fugitive slaves, with a detailed description of Ursus and Lygia, coupled with the offer of a reward for seizing them. But it was doubtful whether that pursuit would reach the fugitives; and even should it reach them, whether the local authorities would feel justified in making the arrest at the private instance of Vinicius, without the support of a pretor. Indeed, there had not been time to obtain such support. Vinicius himself, disguised as a slave, had sought Lygia the whole day before, through every corner of the city, but had been unable to find the least indication or trace of her. He had seen Aulus’s servants, it is true; but they seemed to be seeking something also, and that confirmed him in the belief that it was not Aulus who had intercepted the maiden, and that the old general did not know what had happened to her.
When Tiresias announced to him, then, that there was a man who would undertake to find Lygia, he hurried with all speed to the house of Petronius; and barely had he finished saluting his uncle, when he inquired for the man.
“We shall see him at once, Eunice knows him,” said Petronius. “She will come this moment to arrange the folds of my toga, and will give nearer information concerning him.”
“Oh! she whom thou hadst the wish to bestow on me yesterday?”
“The one whom thou didst reject; for which I am grateful, for she is the best vestiplica in the whole city.”
In fact, the vestiplica came in before he had finished speaking, and taking the toga, laid on a chair inlaid with pearl, she opened the garment to throw it on Petronius’s shoulder. Her face was clear and calm; joy was in her eyes.
Petronius looked at her. She seemed to him very beautiful. After a while, when she had covered him with the toga, she began to arrange it, bending at times to lengthen the folds. He noticed that her arms had a marvellous pale rose-color, and her bosom and shoulders the transparent reflections of pearl or alabaster.
“Eunice,” said he, “has the man come to Tiresias whom thou didst mention yesterday?”
“He has, lord.”
“What is his name?”
“Chilo Chilonides.”
“Who is he?”
“A physician, a sage, a soothsayer, who knows how to read people’s fates and predict the future.”
“Has he predicted the future to thee?”
Eunice was covered with a blush which gave a rosy color to her ears and her neck even.
“Yes, lord.”
“What has he predicted?”
“That pain and happiness would meet me.”
“Pain met thee yesterday at the hands of Tiresias; hence happiness also should come.”
“It has come, lord, already.”
“What?”
“I remain,” said she in a whisper.
Petronius put his hand on her golden head.
“Thou hast arranged the folds well to-day, and I am satisfied with thee, Eunice.”
Under that touch her eyes were mist-covered in one instant from happiness, and her bosom began to heave quickly.
Petronius and Vinicius passed into the atrium, where Chilo Chilonides was waiting. When he saw them, he made a low bow. A smile came to the lips of Petronius at thought of his suspicion of yesterday, that this man might be Eunice’s lover. The man who was standing before him could not be any one’s lover. In that marvellous figure there was something both foul and ridiculous. He was not old; in his dirty beard and curly locks a gray hair shone here and there. He had a lank stomach and stooping shoulders, so that at the first cast of the eye he appeared to be hunchbacked; above that hump rose a large head, with the face of a monkey and also of a fox; the eye was penetrating. His yellowish complexion was varied with pimples; and his nose, covered with them completely, might indicate too great a love for the bottle. His neglected apparel, composed of a dark tunic of goat’s wool and a mantle of similar material with holes in it, showed real or simulated poverty. At sight of him, Homer’s Thersites came to the mind of Petronius. Hence, answering with a wave of the hand to his bow, he said,--
“A greeting, divine Thersites! How are the lumps which Ulysses gave thee at Troy, and what is he doing himself in the Elysian Fields?”
“Noble lord,” answered Chilo Chilonides, “Ulysses, the wisest of the dead, sends a greeting through me to Petronius, the wisest of the living, and the request to cover my lumps with a new mantle.”
“By Hecate Triformis!” exclaimed Petronius, “the answer deserves a new mantle.”
But further conversation was interrupted by the impatient Vinicius, who inquired directly,--“Dost thou know clearly what thou art undertaking?”
“When two households in two lordly mansions speak of naught else, and when half Rome is repeating the news, it is not difficult to know,” answered Chilo. “The night before last a maiden named Lygia, but specially Callina, and reared in the house of Aulus Plautius, was intercepted. Thy slaves were conducting her, O lord, from Cæsar’s palace to thy ‘insula,’ and I undertake to find her in the city, or, if she has left the city--which is little likely--to indicate to thee, noble tribune, whither she has fled and where she has hidden.”
“That is well,” said Vinicius, who was pleased with the precision of the answer. “What means hast thou to do this?”
Chilo smiled cunningly. “Thou hast the means, lord; I have the wit only.”
Petronius smiled also, for he was perfectly satisfied with his guest.
“That man can find the maiden,” thought he. Meanwhile Vinicius wrinkled his joined brows, and said,--“Wretch, in case thou deceive me for gain, I will give command to beat thee with clubs.”
“I am a philosopher, lord, and a philosopher cannot be greedy of gain, especially of such as thou hast just offered magnanimously.”
“Oh, art thou a philosopher?” inquired Petronius. “Eunice told me that thou art a physician and a soothsayer. Whence knowest thou Eunice?”
“She came to me for aid, for my fame struck her ears.”
“What aid did she want?”
“Aid in love, lord. She wanted to be cured of unrequited love.”
“Didst thou cure her?”
“I did more, lord. I gave her an amulet which secures mutuality. In Paphos, on the island of Cyprus, is a temple, O lord, in which is preserved a zone of Venus. I gave her two threads from that zone, enclosed in an almond shell.”
“And didst thou make her pay well for them?”
“One can never pay enough for mutuality, and I, who lack two fingers on my right hand, am collecting money to buy a slave copyist to write down my thoughts, and preserve my wisdom for mankind.”
“Of what school art thou, divine sage?”
“I am a Cynic, lord, because I wear a tattered mantle; I am a Stoic, because I bear poverty patiently; I am a Peripatetic, for, not owning a litter, I go on foot from one wine-shop to another, and on the way teach those who promise to pay for a pitcher of wine.”
“And at the pitcher thou dost become a rhetor?”
“Heraclitus declares that ‘all is fluid,’ and canst thou deny, lord, that wine is fluid?”
“And he declared that fire is a divinity; divinity, therefore, is blushing in thy nose.”
“But the divine Diogenes from Apollonia declared that air is the essence of things, and the warmer the air the more perfect the beings it makes, and from the warmest come the souls of sages. And since the autumns are cold, a genuine sage should warm his soul with wine; and wouldst thou hinder, O lord, a pitcher of even the stuff produced in Capua or Telesia from bearing heat to all the bones of a perishable human body?”
“Chilo Chilonides, where is thy birthplace?”
“On the Euxine Pontus. I come from Mesembria.”
“Oh, Chilo, thou art great!”
“And unrecognized,” said the sage, pensively.
But Vinicius was impatient again. In view of the hope which had gleamed before him, he wished Chilo to set out at once on his work; hence the whole conversation seemed to him simply a vain loss of time, and he was angry at Petronius.
“When wilt thou begin the search?” asked he, turning to the Greek.
“I have begun it already,” answered Chilo. “And since I am here, and answering thy affable question, I am searching yet. Only have confidence, honored tribune, and know that if thou wert to lose the string of thy sandal I should find it, or him who picked it up on the street.”
“Hast thou been employed in similar services?” asked Petronius.
The Greek raised his eyes. “To-day men esteem virtue and wisdom too low, for a philosopher not to be forced to seek other means of living.”
“What are thy means?”
“To know everything, and to serve those with news who are in need of it.”
“And who pay for it?”
“Ah, lord, I need to buy a copyist. Otherwise my wisdom will perish with me.”
“If thou hast not collected enough yet to buy a sound mantle, thy services cannot be very famous.”
“Modesty hinders me. But remember, lord, that to-day there are not such benefactors as were numerous formerly; and for whom it was as pleasant to cover service with gold as to swallow an oyster from Puteoli. No; my services are not small, but the gratitude of mankind is small. At times, when a valued slave escapes, who will find him, if not the only son of my father? When on the walls there are inscriptions against the divine Poppæa, who will indicate those who composed them? Who will discover at the book-stalls verses against Cæsar? Who will declare what is said in the houses of knights and senators? Who will carry letters which the writers will not intrust to slaves? Who will listen to news at the doors of barbers? For whom have wine-shops and bake-shops no secret? In whom do slaves trust? Who can see through every house, from the atrium to the garden? Who knows every street, every alley and hiding-place? Who knows what they say in the baths, in the Circus, in the markets, in the fencing-schools, in slave-dealers’ sheds, and even in the arenas?”
“By the gods! enough, noble sage!” cried Petronius; “we are drowning in thy services, thy virtue, thy wisdom, and thy eloquence. Enough! We wanted to know who thou art, and we know!”
But Vinicius was glad, for he thought that this man, like a hound, once put on the trail, would not stop till he had found out the hiding-place.
“Well,” said he, “dost thou need indications?”
“I need arms.”
“Of what kind?” asked Vinicius, with astonishment.
The Greek stretched out one hand; with the other he made the gesture of counting money.
“Such are the times, lord,” said he, with a sigh.
“Thou wilt be the ass, then,” said Petronius, “to win the fortress with bags of gold?”
“I am only a poor philosopher,” answered Chilo, with humility; “ye have the gold.”
Vinicius tossed him a purse, which the Greek caught in the air, though two fingers were lacking on his right hand.
He raised his head then, and said: “I know more than thou thinkest. I have not come empty-handed. I know that Aulus did not intercept the maiden, for I have spoken with his slaves. I know that she is not on the Palatine, for all are occupied with the infant Augusta; and perhaps I may even divine why ye prefer to search for the maiden with my help rather than that of the city guards and Cæsar’s soldiers. I know that her escape was effected by a servant,--a slave coming from the same country as she. He could not find assistance among slaves, for slaves all stand together, and would not act against thy slaves. Only a co-religionist would help him.”
“Dost hear, Vinicius?” broke in Petronius. “Have I not said the same, word for word, to thee?”
“That is an honor for me,” said Chilo. “The maiden, lord,” continued he, turning again to Vinicius, “worships beyond a doubt the same divinity as that most virtuous of Roman ladies, that genuine matron, Pomponia. I have heard this, too, that Pomponia was tried in her own house for worshipping some kind of foreign god, but I could not learn from her slaves what god that is, or what his worshippers are called. If I could learn that, I should go to them, become the most devoted among them, and gain their confidence. But thou, lord, who hast passed, as I know too, a number of days in the house of the noble Aulus, canst thou not give me some information thereon?”
“I cannot,” said Vinicius.
“Ye have asked me long about various things, noble lords, and I have answered the questions; permit me now to give one. Hast thou not seen, honored tribune, some statuette, some offering, some token, some amulet on Pomponia or thy divine Lygia? Hast thou not seen them making signs to each other, intelligible to them alone?”
“Signs? Wait! Yes; I saw once that Lygia made a fish on the sand.”
“A fish? A-a! O-o-o! Did she do that once, or a number of times?”
“Only once.”
“And art thou certain, lord, that she outlined a fish? O-o?”
“Yes,” answered Vinicius, with roused curiosity. “Dost thou divine what that means?”
“Do I divine!” exclaimed Chilo. And bowing in sign of farewell, he added: “May Fortune scatter on you both equally all gifts, worthy lords!”
“Give command to bring thee a mantle,” said Petronius to him at parting.
“Ulysses gives thee thanks for Thersites,” said the Greek; and bowing a second time, he walked out.
“What wilt thou say of that noble sage?” inquired Petronius.
“This, that he will find Lygia,” answered Vinicius, with delight; “but I will say, too, that were there a kingdom of rogues he might be the king of it.”
“Most certainly. I shall make a nearer acquaintance with this stoic; meanwhile I must give command to perfume the atrium.”
But Chilo Chilonides, wrapping his new mantle about him, threw up on his palm, under its folds, the purse received from Vinicius, and admired both its weight and its jingle. Walking on slowly, and looking around to see if they were not looking at him from the house, he passed the portico of Livia, and, reaching the corner of the Clivus Virbius, turned toward the Subura.
“I must go to Sporus,” said he to himself, “and pour out a little wine to Fortuna. I have found at last what I have been seeking this long time. He is young, irascible, bounteous as mines in Cyprus, and ready to give half his fortune for that Lygian linnet. Just such a man have I been seeking this long time. It is needful, however, to be on one’s guard with him, for the wrinkling of his brow forebodes no good. Ah! the wolf-whelps lord it over the world to-day! I should fear that Petronius less. O gods! but the trade of procurer pays better at present than virtue. Ah! she drew a fish on the sand! If I know what that means, may I choke myself with a piece of goat’s cheese! But I shall know. Fish live under water, and searching under water is more difficult than on land, ergo he will pay me separately for this fish. Another such purse and I might cast aside the beggar’s wallet and buy myself a slave. But what wouldst thou say, Chilo, were I to advise thee to buy not a male but a female slave? I know thee; I know that thou wouldst consent. If she were beautiful, like Eunice, for instance, thou thyself wouldst grow young near her, and at the same time wouldst have from her a good and certain income. I sold to that poor Eunice two threads from my old mantle. She is dull; but if Petronius were to give her to me, I would take her. Yes, yes, Chilo Chilonides, thou hast lost father and mother, thou art an orphan; therefore buy to console thee even a female slave. She must indeed live somewhere, therefore Vinicius will hire her a dwelling, in which thou too mayest find shelter; she must dress, hence Vinicius will pay for the dress; and must eat, hence he will support her. Och! what a hard life! Where are the times in which for an obolus a man could buy as much pork and beans as he could hold in both hands, or a piece of goat’s entrails as long as the arm of a boy twelve years old, and filled with blood? But here is that villain Sporus! In the wine-shop it will be easier to learn something.”
Thus conversing, he entered the wine-shop and ordered a pitcher of “dark” for himself. Seeing the sceptical look of the shopkeeper, he took a gold coin from his purse, and, putting it on the table, said,--“Sporus, I toiled to-day with Seneca from dawn till midday, and this is what my friend gave me at parting.”
The plump eyes of Sporus became plumper still at this sight, and the wine was soon before Chilo. Moistening his fingers in it, he drew a fish on the table, and said,--“Knowest what that means?”
“A fish? Well, a fish,--yes, that’s a fish.”
“Thou art dull; though thou dost add so much water to the wine that thou mightst find a fish in it. This is a symbol which, in the language of philosophers, means ‘the smile of fortune.’ If thou hadst divined it, thou too mightst have made a fortune. Honor philosophy, I tell thee, or I shall change my wine-shop,--an act to which Petronius, my personal friend, has been urging me this long time.”
