smite.”
“At ease, Sextus,” said Diodorus, and he laid his hand on the shoulder of the young captain. “Come, come, you are not afraid for me? Is that why you both disobeyed my express orders? I tell you, if Rome falls it will be because of the failure of disciplined minds.”
“Nevertheless, noble Tribune, we should prefer to remain on guard for some nights,” said young Sextus, stubbornly, but his devoted eyes pleaded.
Diodorus paused. He looked from Sextus to the centurion, and he saw their obstinacy. If I command their return to Antioch, he thought, they will lurk in the gardens, out of my sight, sleepless and foodless, and that will be a hardship on them. Is that a just return for what they consider their duty? He said, moved, “Well, then, you ox-minded young fools, remain for as long as you wish. I shall order quarters for you, and food, and you shall march about the house and guard the doors to your simple content. Not that I am not displeased by you,” he added, hastily, for the sake of discipline. “When I am at home I am not a soldier. I am only a peaceful householder.”
He reached the women’s quarters and was about to order a slave to summon the Lady Aurelia when Aurelia herself appeared, accompanied by Iris. They were laughing softly together as sisters laugh, and Aurelia’s hand rested lightly on the arm of Iris, who had never appeared so beautiful to Diodorus. It was at her he looked, and as if there had been something terribly revealing in his startled eyes, for her lovely face clouded and her own blue eyes misted as if with sorrow and distress.
To the ‘old Roman’, Iris the wife of a freedman was not a contemptible object, though formerly a slave. If worthy of love, she received love; if worthy of respect, she received respect. Aurelia and Iris were tender friends. But Diodorus had not known that Iris often visited his house in his absence. Aurelia was surprised and happy to see him.
“Am I late, Diodorus?” she asked, coming to him and taking his hand. “The sun is not completely set.”
“It is I who am early,” he replied. He wanted to kiss her red-brown cheek, to press his mouth against her full lips. She was a refuge from something which threatened him.
Aurelia began to chatter gaily, in her usual fashion. “Iris has been helping me weave the winter linens and woolens. Look at my fingers! They are calloused, almost bleeding.” She spread her hands before his eyes, and laughed. Her hair, dressed informally, hung over her shoulders in two shining black braids far below her waist, and there was a gleaming moisture on her face and about her temples, and little tendrils of youthful darkness curled on her brow and cheeks.
Iris stood apart, as unapproachable as a marble nymph, her golden hair arranged in the Grecian manner, the lengths of it bound about her head with white ribbons. Such ribbons also bound her slender waist, above which rose her perfect bosom. The sunset, falling upon her, gave her flesh a translucence, and Diodorus thought, Not Diana, but the Greek Artemis. The arms and throat and cheek of Iris became like a rose, and the composure of her quiet face, the gentle dignity of her figure were those of a dreaming statue engrossed in far thoughts unconnected with humanity. This aspect made Diodorus think, for all the presence of his wife, I am like Acteon, and surely it is forbidden to look upon her!
Aurelia saw the fixity on Diodorus’ face as he looked at the young freedwoman, and Aurelia sighed. It was then Iris, after a deep bow, moved away, and her tall and shapely figure was lost in the shadows of the dreaming trees. Diodorus watched her disappear. Aurelia took his arm affectionately. There was no jealousy in her heart. She loved Diodorus too much, and she knew Iris’ virtue too well. Too, it was permitted for a man to look upon a woman, and his wife should have too much dignity and self-respect for annoyance.
They
“At ease, Sextus,” said Diodorus, and he laid his hand on the shoulder of the young captain. “Come, come, you are not afraid for me? Is that why you both disobeyed my express orders? I tell you, if Rome falls it will be because of the failure of disciplined minds.”
“Nevertheless, noble Tribune, we should prefer to remain on guard for some nights,” said young Sextus, stubbornly, but his devoted eyes pleaded.
Diodorus paused. He looked from Sextus to the centurion, and he saw their obstinacy. If I command their return to Antioch, he thought, they will lurk in the gardens, out of my sight, sleepless and foodless, and that will be a hardship on them. Is that a just return for what they consider their duty? He said, moved, “Well, then, you ox-minded young fools, remain for as long as you wish. I shall order quarters for you, and food, and you shall march about the house and guard the doors to your simple content. Not that I am not displeased by you,” he added, hastily, for the sake of discipline. “When I am at home I am not a soldier. I am only a peaceful householder.”
He reached the women’s quarters and was about to order a slave to summon the Lady Aurelia when Aurelia herself appeared, accompanied by Iris. They were laughing softly together as sisters laugh, and Aurelia’s hand rested lightly on the arm of Iris, who had never appeared so beautiful to Diodorus. It was at her he looked, and as if there had been something terribly revealing in his startled eyes, for her lovely face clouded and her own blue eyes misted as if with sorrow and distress.
To the ‘old Roman’, Iris the wife of a freedman was not a contemptible object, though formerly a slave. If worthy of love, she received love; if worthy of respect, she received respect. Aurelia and Iris were tender friends. But Diodorus had not known that Iris often visited his house in his absence. Aurelia was surprised and happy to see him.
“Am I late, Diodorus?” she asked, coming to him and taking his hand. “The sun is not completely set.”
“It is I who am early,” he replied. He wanted to kiss her red-brown cheek, to press his mouth against her full lips. She was a refuge from something which threatened him.
Aurelia began to chatter gaily, in her usual fashion. “Iris has been helping me weave the winter linens and woolens. Look at my fingers! They are calloused, almost bleeding.” She spread her hands before his eyes, and laughed. Her hair, dressed informally, hung over her shoulders in two shining black braids far below her waist, and there was a gleaming moisture on her face and about her temples, and little tendrils of youthful darkness curled on her brow and cheeks.
Iris stood apart, as unapproachable as a marble nymph, her golden hair arranged in the Grecian manner, the lengths of it bound about her head with white ribbons. Such ribbons also bound her slender waist, above which rose her perfect bosom. The sunset, falling upon her, gave her flesh a translucence, and Diodorus thought, Not Diana, but the Greek Artemis. The arms and throat and cheek of Iris became like a rose, and the composure of her quiet face, the gentle dignity of her figure were those of a dreaming statue engrossed in far thoughts unconnected with humanity. This aspect made Diodorus think, for all the presence of his wife, I am like Acteon, and surely it is forbidden to look upon her!
Aurelia saw the fixity on Diodorus’ face as he looked at the young freedwoman, and Aurelia sighed. It was then Iris, after a deep bow, moved away, and her tall and shapely figure was lost in the shadows of the dreaming trees. Diodorus watched her disappear. Aurelia took his arm affectionately. There was no jealousy in her heart. She loved Diodorus too much, and she knew Iris’ virtue too well. Too, it was permitted for a man to look upon a woman, and his wife should have too much dignity and self-respect for annoyance.
They
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