_Marc._ (_furiously_). Thou art too scathing in thy judgment, damsel!

_Slave._ Nay, I am mild to what thou dost deserve.

_Marc._ How darest thou, a slave, to judge me so?

_Slave._ King Tarquin, called Superbus, or the Proud, He was mine ancestor. And I, alone Left of his line, in bondage languish. _Thou_,-- What canst thou boast of? Of the blood of plebs, Yet lower e'en than they who gave thee birth; Despised of all, for thou art neither slave, Nor free; thou hangest slothlike on the skirts Of mighty men, that they may represent Thy cause--support, succor, and plead for thee, In grat.i.tude for thy poor services.

Avaunt! Fawner and client, touch me not!

[_She spurns him when he would approach her, and haughtily departs._

_Marc._ (_gazing after her_). Adieu, thou helpless scorner, chained despiser, Thy tongue hath sought to whip me sore--in vain.

A client knows not shame nor injured pride.

Nor is he haughty, for the blood of kings Heats not his veins. So Marcus, too, is low, Ready to stoop to aught, however base, To gain his ends. But triumph over triumphs!

Marcus will issue forth the conqueror.

Flushed with his victory, while other men Lie low and bite the dust because they clung To honor! He, clean void of conscience, sucks The sweets of life down to their sweetest dregs. [_Pauses._ Ha! who is that? My master hath returned!

[_Peers through a curtained doorway on the right. As he retreats, Appius Claudius enters hurriedly. His toga is disordered, his countenance aflame with wine and pa.s.sion. He throws himself heavily upon a couch._

_Appius._ Wine, fetch some wine! At once, with no delay!

_Marc._ (_aside_). And drunk as Bacchus at his wedding-feast!

(_Aloud._) Which kind, my lord?

_Appius._ Falernian! Mark ye, dilute it not!

_Marc._ (_aside_). I need no prophet's eyes to see his end.

To Bacchus I a.s.sign him with due care. [_Exit._

_Appius_ (_in hoa.r.s.e undertone_). I looked but once, and, looking, she was gone, Leaving me reeling, drunk with loveliness.

I have imbibed deeply this day in wine, Yet hath it less intoxicating power Than hath a tremor of her lashes or A flutter of her garments! I am struck, And heavily! [_He groans and clasps his head with his hands._ Virginia! Elements Are in thy name--tempest and burning flame!

My soul is tossed as though it were at sea, My brain is floating on the vacant air, My heart consumed in everlasting fire!

[_Enter Marcus, bearing a goblet and an amphora._

_Marc._ Thy rare Falernian.

_Appius._ Fill me the cup. [_Drinks._ Sweet solace and indulgence of the G.o.ds, Unequaled nectar, give me satisfaction!

Better to me this pleasure than the sight Of fair Elysium. Such ecstasy As is the privilege and portion of Souls freed from Hades and its rack and wheel And s.n.a.t.c.hed to Heaven, can no sweeter be Than is mine ecstasy, when wafted on The summer zephyr, comes this breath, divine, Of nectar and ambrosia in one.

Virginia, to myself, to thee, to Love, I drink! And now, my Marcus, sit thee down!

I would confer with thee.

_Marc._ (_seats himself_). What is thy will?

_Appius._ Marcus, this morn I made my way in state Through Rome--and, in the market-place, beheld A sight that hath undone me for this day.

My heart hath slipped its leash and now is set Hard on the trail, not to be turned aside.

_Marc._ What vision hath the G.o.ds vouchsafed thee, then?

_Appius._'Twas more than vision, thanks to Vulcan be, Who did create that mortal styled a woman, At once a snare, at once a perfect boon; At once a curse, at once a lasting blessing.

It was a maid, a lowly, mortal maid, A maid of mean plebeian birth as well, Yet beautiful as though she had arisen From out the golden heart of some fair rose, Or drowsy, dreamy, tempting, fresh and fair, Had issued, shyly, from the troubled depths Of rock-bound spring, a nymph but newly born, And shrinking from the glances of the morn.

Virginia, child of one Virginius, Centurion of courage and renown, She burst upon me like a revelation Unto a prophet. She is mine as sure As are the stars possessions of the Night.

She'll have no will but mine, no choice but mine; She'll yield her body unto me, until I find the chance to win her heart and soul.

I'll hold her and I'll kiss her heart away; I'll chain her soul to mine with links of gold.

But whether she shall ever love me true I little care, so that her lips are mine.

So that I daily touch her hands and feel Her dusky hair blow cloudlike 'gainst my cheek.

Marcus, thou art the man to work my weal, By aiding me in this, mine enterprise.

_Marc._ What! Shall I play the game and thou receive The winnings?

_Appius_ (_haughtily_). Ay, a.s.suredly. O, pause, And pausing, see thyself in honest light.

Thou art my client; thou to _me_ dost owe Thy safety, standing, possibly thy life.

I know the law--I _made_, the law, the while Thou canst not read a letter; as a pleb Few rights are thine--those few I gave thy cla.s.s At the expense of the patrician favor.

Break with me, and thou'lt break thy fortunes, ope Thy chest of troubles, like the silly maid Who brought untold misfortunes on herself And on the world. a.s.sist me and thou'lt gain My favor, keep my needful, strong protection.

_Marc._ Enough! I follow thee and will obey.

_Appius._ E'en to the letter?

_Marc._ To the letter, lord.

_Appius._ Then hearken. Choose some morning, soon or late, And hasten to the market-place. The maid Receiveth schooling there. When she appears, Spring forward boldly, seize her by the arm, (And yet be not too rude in thy demeanor); When all the mult.i.tude around demand An explanation, say to them that she Was born of a slave-woman in thy house, Ere thou a client had become. And add That she had been in secret borne away, And, by the wife of one Virginius, Claimed as a child; her own at birth had died, And he, Virginius, kept in ignorance, Grossly deceived, believeth it his flesh And blood. The tale is wild; no proof hast thou, Nor witnesses; and yet it is enough Seeing that I control the Romans as The Fates control the lives of mortal men, And need the barest shadow of excuse To work my will--I, who am autocrat!

a.s.sume a righteous air, if that doth lie Within the limits of thy doubtful, rare Accomplishments. When they protest, then say "To Appius for justice I will go,"

And leave the rest to me.

_Marcus._ Ay, leave to thee The cowing of the Roman mob, for that Lieth within the limits of _thy_ rare, Doubtful accomplishments. So let it be.

I'll serve thee well--will my returns be worthy The peril of my venture?

_Appius._ Also leave That matter unto me.

SCENE II--WOMEN'S APARTMENTS IN THE HOUSE OF VIRGINIUS.

_Style of ornaments and hangings very simple. Virginia, bending over her nurse, who is seated in a chair, appears to have just completed the arrangement of the latter's hair._

_Virg._ Nay, now, let be! 'Tis most becoming so.

What! would'st thou call't presumptious to a.s.sume The style of headdress worn by n.o.ble ladies?

Foolish Camilla! Thou art n.o.bler far Than many score fine dames, however high They hold their heads or wear their tresses--so!

Oh, 'tis entrancing! Stay, I have not done.

_Camilla_ (_groaning in mock despair_). Alack! was ever nurse so harried by A maid as silly and as sweet as thou!

_Virg._ No, never! for I'm sweet because I've kissed Thy kind old cheek so oft and have imbibed Therefrom the sweetness only found in thee.

And I am silly--I suppose, because The G.o.ds have made me so. Now, turn about Thy head. How white thy hair of late hath grown!

_Camilla._ Alack! mine age is on me!

_Virg._ (_pa.s.sionately caressing her_). Nay, not so!

Or if 'tis so, I love each silver thread.

Kiss me, Camilla--but I must proceed With this thy toilet. Now is it complete.