Edward Bulwer-Lytton: The Last Days of Pompeii

BOOK THE FOURTH 6. Chapter VI (continued)

'Glaucus!' cried the bystanders, with one accord; 'is it even credible?'

'I would sooner,' whispered one man to his neighbor, 'believe it to be the Egyptian himself.'

Here a centurion thrust himself into the gathering crowd, with an air of authority.

'How! blood spilt! who the murderer?'

The bystanders pointed to Glaucus.

'He!--by Mars, he has rather the air of being the victim!

'Who accuses him?'

'I,' said Arbaces, drawing himself up haughtily; and the jewels which adorned his dress flashing in the eyes of the soldier, instantly convinced that worthy warrior of the witness's respectability.

'Pardon me--your name?' said he.

'Arbaces; it is well known methinks in Pompeii. Passing through the grove, I beheld before me the Greek and the priest in earnest conversation. I was struck by the reeling motions of the first, his violent gestures, and the loudness of his voice; he seemed to me either drunk or mad. Suddenly I saw him raise his stilus--I darted forward--too late to arrest the blow. He had twice stabbed his victim, and was bending over him, when, in my horror and indignation, I struck the murderer to the ground. He fell without a struggle, which makes me yet more suspect that he was not altogether in his senses when the crime was perpetrated; for, recently recovered from a severe illness, my blow was comparatively feeble, and the frame of Glaucus, as you see, is strong and youthful.'

'His eyes are open now--his lips move,' said the soldier. 'Speak, prisoner, what sayest thou to the charge?'

'The charge--ha--ha! Why, it was merrily done; when the old hag set her serpent at me, and Hecate stood by laughing from ear to ear--what could I do? But I am ill--I faint--the serpent's fiery tongue hath bitten me. Bear me to bed, and send for your physician; old AEsculapius himself will attend me if you let him know that I am Greek. Oh, mercy--mercy! I burn!--marrow and brain, I burn!'