Perpetua. A Tale of Nimes in A.D. 213 — John Shaqi
Perpetua. A Tale of Nimes in A.D. 213Baring-Gould, S. (Sabine)
History
Perpetua. A Tale of Nimes in A.D. 213
Baring-Gould, S. (Sabine)
Nîmes (France) -- History -- Fiction
Then Æmilius signed to the raftmen to put him ashore at the landing place
to the timber yard of Flavillus.
Having landed he mounted a slight ascent to a cottage that was surrounded
by piles of wood—of oak, chestnut, pine and olive. Flavillus was a
merchant on a small scale, but a man of energy and industry. He dealt with
the natives of the Cebennæ, and bought the timber they felled, conveyed it
to his stores, whence it was distributed to the towns in the neighborhood;
and supplies were furnished to the shipbuilders at Arelate.
The merchant was now away, but his wife received Æmilius with deference.
She had heard his name from the raftmen, and was acquainted with
Callipodius, a word from whom sufficed as an introduction.
She apologized because her house was small, as also because her mother,
then with her, was at the point of death from old age, not from any fever
or other disorder. If Æmilius Lentulus, under the circumstances, would
pardon imperfection in attendance, she would gladly extend to him such
hospitality as she could offer. Æmilius would have gone elsewhere, but
that the only other house he could think of that was near was a tavern,
then crowded by Utriculares, who occupied every corner. He was sorry to
inconvenience the woman, yet accepted her offer. The period was not one in
which much consideration was shown to those in a lower grade. The citizens
and nobles held that their inferiors existed for their convenience only.
Æmilius shared in the ideas of his time and class, but he had sufficient
natural delicacy to make him reluctant to intrude where his presence was
necessarily irksome. Nevertheless, as there was no other place to which he
could go, he put aside this feeling of hesitation.
The house was small, and was constructed of wood upon a stone basement.
The partitions between the rooms were of split planks, and the joints were
in places open, and knots had come out, so that what passed in one
apartment was audible, and, to some extent, visible in another. A bedroom
in a Roman house was a mere closet, furnished with a bed only. All washing
was done at the baths, not in the house. The room had no window, only a
door over which hung a curtain.
Æmilius divested himself of his wet garment and gave it to his hostess to
dry, then wrapped himself in his toga and awaited supper.
The meal was prepared as speedily as might be. It consisted of eggs, eels,
with melon, and apples of last year. Wine was abundant, and so was oil.
When he had eaten and was refreshed, moved by a kindly thought Æmilius
asked if he might see the sick mother. His hostess at once conducted him
to her apartment, and he stood by the old woman’s bed. The evening sun
shone in at the door, where stood the daughter holding back the curtain,
and lighted the face of the aged woman. It was thin, white and drawn. The
eyes were large and lustrous.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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