The young man, who had disturbed by violence a feast of Apollo, murmurs:
"My only chance was to fly to the mountains!"
"The soldiers would have caught you," says one of the brethren.
"Oh! I could have done like Cyprian; I should have come back; and the second time I should have had more strength, you may be sure!"
Then he thinks of the countless days he should have lived, with all the pleasures which he will not have known;--and he, likewise, contemplates the side of the altar.
But the man in the black tunic rushes up to him:
"How scandalous! What? You a victim of election? Think of all these women who are looking at you! And then, G.o.d sometimes performs a miracle. Pionius benumbed the hands of his executioners; and the blood of Polycarp extinguished the flames of his funeral-pile."
He turns towards the old man. "Father, father! You ought to edify us by your death. By deferring it, you will, without doubt, commit some bad action which will destroy the fruit of your good deeds. Besides, the power of G.o.d is infinite. Perhaps your example will convert the entire people."
And, in the den opposite, the lions stride up and down, without stopping, rapidly, with a continuous movement. The largest of them all at once fixes his eyes on Antony and emits a roar, and a ma.s.s of vapour issues from his jaws.
The women are jammed up against the men.
The consoler goes from one to another:
"What would ye say--what would any of you say--if they burned you with plates of iron; if horses tore you asunder; if your body, coated with honey, was devoured by insects? You will have only the death of a hunter who is surprised in a wood."
Antony would much prefer all this than the horrible wild beasts; he imagines he feels their teeth and their talons, and that he hears his back cracking under their jaws.
A belluarius enters the dungeon; the martyrs tremble. One alone amongst them is unmoved--the Phrygian, who has gone into a corner to pray. He had burned three temples. He now advances with lifted arms, open mouth, and his head towards Heaven, without seeing anything, like a somnambulist.
The consoler exclaims:
"Keep back! Keep back! The Spirit of Monta.n.u.s will destroy ye!"
All fall back, vociferating:
"d.a.m.nation to the Montanist!"
They insult him, spit upon him, would like to strike him. The lions, prancing, bite one another"s manes. The people yell:
"To the beasts! To the beasts!"
The martyrs, bursting into sobs, catch hold of one another. A cup of narcotic wine is offered to them. They quickly pa.s.s it from hand to hand.
Near the door of the den another belluarius awaits the signal. It opens; a lion comes out.
He crosses the arena with great irregular strides. Behind him in a row appear the other lions, then a bear, three panthers, and leopards. They scatter like a flock in a prairie.
The cracking of a whip is heard. The Christians stagger, and, in order to make an end of it, their brethren push them forward.
Antony closes his eyes.
He opens them again. But darkness envelops him. Ere long, it grows bright once more; and he is able to trace the outlines of a plain, arid and covered with knolls, such as may be seen around a deserted quarry.
Here and there a clump of shrubs lifts itself in the midst of the slabs, which are on a level with the soil, and above which white forms are bending, more undefined than clouds. Others rapidly make their appearance. Eyes shine through the openings of long veils. By their indolent gait and the perfumes which exhale from them, Antony knows they are ladies of patrician rank. There are also men, but of inferior condition, for they have visages at the same time simple and coa.r.s.e.
One of the women, with a long breath:
"Ah! how pleasant is the air of the chilly night in the midst of sepulchres! I am so fatigued with the softness of couches, the noise of day, and the oppressiveness of the sun!"
_A woman_, panting--"Ah! at last, here I am! But how irksome to have wedded an idolater!"
_Another_--"The visits to the prisons, the conversations with our brethren, all excite the suspicions of our husbands! And we must even hide ourselves from them when making the sign of the Cross; they would take it for a magical conjuration."
_Another_--"With mine, there was nothing but quarrelling all day long. I did not like to submit to the abuses to which he subjected my person; and, for revenge, he had me persecuted as a Christian."
_Another_--"Recall to your memory that young man of such striking beauty who was dragged by the heels behind a chariot, like Hector, from the Esquiline Gate to the Mountains of Tibur; and his blood stained the bushes on both sides of the road. I collected the drops--here they are!"
She draws from her bosom a sponge perfectly black, covers it with kisses, and then flings herself upon the slab, crying:
"Ah! my friend! my friend!"
_A man_--"It is just three years to-day since Domitilla"s death. She was stoned at the bottom of the Wood of Proserpine. I gathered her bones, which shone like glow-worms in the gra.s.s. The earth now covers them."
He flings himself upon a tombstone.
"O my betrothed! my betrothed!"
And all the others, scattered through the plain:
"O my sister!" "O my brother!" "O my daughter!" "O my mother!"
They are on their knees, their foreheads clasped with their hands, or their bodies lying flat with both arms extended; and the sobs which they repress make their bosoms swell almost to bursting. They gaze up at the sky, saying:
"Have pity on her soul, O my G.o.d! She is languishing in the abode of shadows. Deign to admit her into the Resurrection, so that she may rejoice in Thy light!"
Or, with eyes fixed on the flagstones, they murmur:
"Be at rest--suffer no more! I have brought thee wine and meat!"
_A widow_--"Here is pudding, made by me, according to his taste, with many eggs, and a double measure of flour. We are going to eat together as of yore, is not that so?"
She puts a little of it on her lips, and suddenly begins to laugh in an extravagant fashion, frantically.
The others, like her, nibble a morsel and drink a mouthful; they tell one another the history of their martyrs; their sorrow becomes vehement; their libations increase; their eyes, swimming with tears, are fixed on one another; they stammer with inebriety and desolation. Gradually their hands touch; their lips meet; their veils are torn away, and they embrace one another upon the tombs in the midst of the cups and the torches.
The sky begins to brighten. The mist soaks their garments; and, as if they were strangers to one another, they take their departure by different roads into the country.
The sun shines forth. The gra.s.s has grown taller; the plain has become transformed. Across the bamboos, Antony sees a forest of columns of a bluish-grey colour. Those are trunks of trees springing from a single trunk. From each of its branches descend other branches which penetrate into the soil; and the whole of those horizontal and perpendicular lines, indefinitely multiplied, might be compared to a gigantic framework were it not that here and there appears a little fig-tree with a dark foliage like that of a sycamore. Between the branches he distinguishes bunches of yellow flowers and violets, and ferns as large as birds" feathers. Under the lowest branches may be seen at different points the horns of a buffalo, or the glittering eyes of an antelope.
Parrots sit perched, b.u.t.terflies flutter, lizards crawl upon the ground, flies buzz; and one can hear, as it were, in the midst of the silence, the palpitation of an all-permeating life.