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033 - Book 4 Chapter V · Last Days of Pompeii

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  Speaker 1: Book four, chapter five of Last Days of Pompeii. This
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  Speaker 1: is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the
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  Speaker 1: public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit
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  Speaker 1: LibriVox dot org. Recording by Ruth Golding Last Days of
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  Speaker 1: Pompeii by Edward G. Bulwer Lytton Book four, chapter five.
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  Speaker 1: The filter its effect. When Glaucus arrived at his own home,
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  Speaker 1: he found Nydia seated under the portico of his garden.
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  Speaker 1: In fact, she had sought his house in the mere
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  Speaker 1: chance that he might return at an early hour. Anxious,
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  Speaker 1: fearful anticipative, she resolved upon seizing the earliest opportunity of
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  Speaker 1: availing herself of the love charm, while at the same
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  Speaker 1: time she half hoped the opportunity might be deferred. It.
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  Speaker 1: It was then, in that fearful, burning mood, her heart beating,
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  Speaker 1: her cheek flushing, that Nydia awaited the possibility of Glaucus's return.
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  Speaker 1: Before the night he crossed the portico, just as the
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  Speaker 1: first stars began to rise, and the heaven above had
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  Speaker 1: assumed its most purple robe. Oh my child, wait you
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  Speaker 1: for me. Nay, I have been tending the flowers and
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  Speaker 1: did but linger a little while to rest myself. It
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  Speaker 1: has been warm, said Glaucus, placing himself also on one
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  Speaker 1: of the seats beneath the colonnade. Very wilt thou summon Davos.
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  Speaker 1: The wine I have drunk heats me, and I long
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  Speaker 1: for some cooling drink here at once, Suddenly and unexpectedly,
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  Speaker 1: the very opportunity that Nydia awaited presented itself of himself,
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  Speaker 1: at his own free choice, he afforded to her that occasion.
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  Speaker 1: She breathed, quick, I will prepare for you myself, said she,
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  Speaker 1: This summer drafter Ione loves of honey and weak wine
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  Speaker 1: cooled in snow. Thanks, said the unconscious Glaucus. If I
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  Speaker 1: only love it enough, it would be grateful were it poisoned.
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  Speaker 1: Nydia frowned, and then smiled. She withdrew for a few moments,
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  Speaker 1: and returned with the cup containing the beverage. Glaucus took
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  Speaker 1: it from her hand. What would not Nydia have given, then,
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  Speaker 1: for one hour's prerogative of sight to have watched her
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  Speaker 1: hopes ripening to effect, to have seen the first dawn
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  Speaker 1: of the imagined love, to have worshiped with more than
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  Speaker 1: Persian adoration, the rising of that sun, which her credulous
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  Speaker 1: soul believed was to break upon her dreary night. Far
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  Speaker 1: different as she stood then, And there were the thoughts,
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  Speaker 1: the emotions of the blind girl from those of the
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  Speaker 1: vain Pompeian under a similar suspense in the last, What
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  Speaker 1: poor and frivolous passions had made up the daring whole?
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  Speaker 1: What petty pique, what small revenge? What expectation of a
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  Speaker 1: paltry triumph had swelled the attributes of that sentiment she
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  Speaker 1: dignified with the name of love. But in the wild
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  Speaker 1: heart of the Thessalian all was pure, uncontrolled, unmodified, passion, erring, unwomanly, frenzied,
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  Speaker 1: but debased by no elements of a more sordid feeling.
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  Speaker 1: Filled with love as with life itself, how could she
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  Speaker 1: resist the occasion of winning love? In return? She leaned
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  Speaker 1: for support against the wall, and her face, before so flushed,
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  Speaker 1: was now white as snow, and with her delicate hands
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  Speaker 1: clasped convulsively together, her lips apart, her eyes on the ground,
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  Speaker 1: she waited the next words, Glaucus should utter. Glaucus had
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  Speaker 1: raised the cup to his lips. He had already drained
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  Speaker 1: about a fourth of its contents. When his eyes suddenly
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  Speaker 1: glancing upon the face of Nydia. He was so forcibly
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  Speaker 1: struck by its alteration, by its intense and painful and
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  Speaker 1: strange expression, that he paused abruptly, and, still holding the
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  Speaker 1: cup near his lips, exclaimed, why Nydia, Nydia, I say
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  Speaker 1: art thou ill or in pain? Nay, thy face speaks
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  Speaker 1: for thee what ails my poor child? As he spoke,
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  Speaker 1: he put down the cup and rose from his seat
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  Speaker 1: to approach her, when a sudden pang shot coldly to
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  Speaker 1: his heart and was followed by a wild, confused, dizzy
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  Speaker 1: sensation at the brain. The floor seemed to glide from
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  Speaker 1: under him, His feet seemed to move on air. A
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  Speaker 1: mighty and unearthly gladness rushed upon his spirit. He felt
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  Speaker 1: too buoyant for the earth. He longed for wings. Nay,
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  Speaker 1: it seemed in the buoyanty of his new existence, as
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  Speaker 1: if he possessed them. He burst involuntarily into a loud
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  Speaker 1: and thrilling laugh. He clapped his hands. He bounded aloft.
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  Speaker 1: He was as a pythoness inspired. Suddenly as it came,
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  Speaker 1: this preternatural transport passed, though only partially away. He now
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  Speaker 1: felt his blood rushing loudly and rapidly through his veins.
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  Speaker 1: It seemed to swell, to exult, to leap along, as
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  Speaker 1: a stream that has burst its bounds and hurries to
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  Speaker 1: the ocean. It throbbed in his ear with a mighty sound.
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  Speaker 1: He felt it mount to his brow. He felt the
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  Speaker 1: veins in his temple stretch and swell, as if they
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  Speaker 1: could no longer contain the violent and increasing tide. Then
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  Speaker 1: a kind of darkness fell over his eyes. Darkness, but
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  Speaker 1: not entire, for through the dim shade he saw the
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  Speaker 1: opposite walls glow out, and the figures painted thereon seemed
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  Speaker 1: ghost like, to creep and glide. What was most strange,
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  Speaker 1: he did not feel himself ill. He did not sink
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  Speaker 1: or quail beneath the dread frenzy that was gathering over him.
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  Speaker 1: The novel of the feeling seemed bright and vivid. He
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  Speaker 1: felt as if a younger health had been infused into
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  Speaker 1: his frame. He was gliding on to madness, and he
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  Speaker 1: knew it not. Nydia had not answered his first question.
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  Speaker 1: She had not been able to reply. His wild and
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  Speaker 1: fearful laugh had roused her from her passionate suspense. She
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  Speaker 1: could not see his fierce gesture. She could not mark
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  Speaker 1: his reeling and unsteady step as he paced unconsciously to
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  Speaker 1: and fro, But she heard the words broken incoherent, insane,
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  Speaker 1: that gushed from his lips. She became terrified and appalled.
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  Speaker 1: She hastened to him, feeling with her arms until she
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  Speaker 1: touched his knees, and then falling on the ground, she
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  Speaker 1: embraced them, weeping with terror and excitement. Oh, speak to me,
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  Speaker 1: you do not hate me, Speak, Speak by the bright Goddess.
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  Speaker 1: A beautiful land, this cypress, Oh, how they fill it
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  Speaker 1: with wine instead of blood. Now they open the veins
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  Speaker 1: of the fawn yonder to show how the tide within,
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  Speaker 1: bubbles and sparkles come hither. Jolly old God, thou ridest
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  Speaker 1: on a goat. Eh, what long silky hair he has.
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  Speaker 1: He is worth all the courses of Parthia. But a
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  Speaker 1: word with thee. This whine of thine is too strong
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  Speaker 1: for us mortals. Oh, beautiful, the boughs are at rest.
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  Speaker 1: The green waves of the forest have caught the zephyr
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  Speaker 1: and drowned him. Not a breath stirs the leaves, and
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  Speaker 1: I view the dreams, sleeping with folded wings upon the
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  Speaker 1: motionless elm, and I look beyond, and I see a
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  Speaker 1: blue stream sparkle in the silent noon, A fountain, a
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  Speaker 1: fountain springing aloft Ah, my founct, thou wilt not put
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  Speaker 1: out rays of my Grecian sun, though thou triest ever
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  Speaker 1: so hard with thy nimble and silver arms. And now
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  Speaker 1: what form steals yonder through the boughs? She glides like
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  Speaker 1: a moonbeam. She has a garland of oak leaves on
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  Speaker 1: her head. In her hand is a vase upturned, from
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  Speaker 1: which she pours pink and tiny shells and sparkling water. Oh,
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  Speaker 1: look on yon face, man never before saw it like. See.
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  Speaker 1: We are alone, only I and she in the wide forest.
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  Speaker 1: There is no smile upon her lips. She moves grave
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  Speaker 1: and sweetly sad. A fly. It is a nymph, It
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  Speaker 1: is one of the wild nepie. Who ever sees her
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  Speaker 1: becomes mad. Fly. See she discovers me. Oh, Glaucus, Glaucus,
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  Speaker 1: do you not know me rave not so wildly? Or
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  Speaker 1: thou wilt kill me with a word. A new change
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  Speaker 1: seemed now to operate upon the jarring and disordered mind
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  Speaker 1: of the unfortunate Athenian. He put his hand upon Nydia's
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  Speaker 1: silken hair, he smoothed the locks. He looked wistfully upon
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  Speaker 1: her face, and then, as in the broken chain of thought,
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  Speaker 1: one or two lynks were yet unsevered. It seemed that
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  Speaker 1: her countenance brought its associations of Ione. And with that
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  Speaker 1: remembrance his madness became yet more powerful, and it swayed
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  Speaker 1: and tinged by passion as he burst forth. I swear
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  Speaker 1: by Venus, by Diana, and by Juno, that though I
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  Speaker 1: have now the world on my shoulders, as my countrymen
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  Speaker 1: Hercules ah down Rome, whoever was truly great was of Greece,
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  Speaker 1: why you would be godless if it were not for us,
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  Speaker 1: I say, as my countrymen Hercules had before me, I
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  Speaker 1: would let it fall into chaos for one smile from Ione,
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  Speaker 1: oh beautiful adored. He added, in a voice inexpressibly fond
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  Speaker 1: and plaintive. Thou lovest me not, Thou art unkind to
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  Speaker 1: me the Egyptian hath belied me to thee Thou knowest
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  Speaker 1: not what hours I have spent beneath thy casement. Thou
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  Speaker 1: knowest not how I have outwatched the stars, thinking thou
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  Speaker 1: my son wouldst rise at last. And thou lovest me
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  Speaker 1: not thou forsakest me, Oh, do not leave me now,
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  Speaker 1: I feel that my life will not be long. Let
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  Speaker 1: me gaze on thee at least until the last. I
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  Speaker 1: am of the bright land of thy fathers. I have
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  Speaker 1: trod thy so filey, I have gather'd the hyacinth and
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  Speaker 1: rose amidst the olive groves of ilysses. Thou shouldst not
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  Speaker 1: desert me for thy fathers who are brothers to my own.
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  Speaker 1: And they say this land is lovely, and these climes serene.
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  Speaker 1: But I will bear thee with me, Oh, dark form,
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  Speaker 1: Why risest thou like a cloud between me and mine?
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  Speaker 1: Death sits calmly dread upon thy brow, on thy lip
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  Speaker 1: is the smile that slays Thy name is orchards. But
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  Speaker 1: on earth men call the arbaces. See I know thee
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  Speaker 1: ay dim shadow, Thy spells a veil, Not Glaucus. Glaucus
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  Speaker 1: murmured Nydia, releasing her hold and falling beneath the excitement
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  Speaker 1: of her dismay, remorse and anguish, insensible on the floor.
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  Speaker 1: Who calls, said he in a loud voice. Ione, it
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  Speaker 1: is she. They have borne her off. We will save her.
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  Speaker 1: Where is my starlus? Ah? I have it? I come
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  Speaker 1: Ione to thy rescue. I come, I come, so, saying
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  Speaker 1: the Athenian. With one bound past the portico, he traversed
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  Speaker 1: the house and rushed, with swift but vacillating steps and
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  Speaker 1: muttering audibly to himself, down the starlit streets. The direful
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  Speaker 1: potion burnt like fire in his veins, for its effect
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  Speaker 1: was made perhaps still more sudden from the wine he
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  Speaker 1: had drunk. Previously used to the excesses of nocturnal revelers,
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  Speaker 1: the citizens, with smiles and winks, gave way to his
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  Speaker 1: reeling steps. They naturally imagined him under the influence of
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  Speaker 1: the Bromian god not vainly worshiped at Pompeii. But they
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  Speaker 1: who looked twice upon his face, started in a nameless fear,
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  Speaker 1: and the smile withered from their lips. He passed the
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  Speaker 1: more populous streets, and, pursuing mechanically the way to Ione's house,
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  Speaker 1: he traversed a more deserted quarter and entered now the
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  Speaker 1: lonely grove of Cybele, in which Episodes had held his
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  Speaker 1: interview with Olynsus. End of Book four, Chapter five,