Yes, master.
NERVA (low)
The Temple is the place of asylum, and as it’s possible there may be tumult in the city—don’t leave it. I will come to get you myself. You quite understand me—and you will obey?
CHARICLEA
Yes, Lord.
NERVA (to Blandine)
Hug me one more. Till soon, dear daughter. I love you with the tenderness of a mother.
(aside)
In a few moments, she’ll be safe. Now that you no longer have to tremble for her, to work, old Roman.
(returns to his palace.)
BLANDINE (low to Chariclea)
Ah, good nurse—it’s frightful to deceive one’s father like this. When will I be able to tell him everything?
CHARICLEA
Patience, my child. It’s one of those pious fibs that heaven pardons. But, how will we do it? Your father believes we are going to the Temple of Vesta, and forbids us to leave because there might be some tumult in Rome.
BLANDINE
A danger threatens him, perhaps. Oh—my place is beside him. I’m staying.
CHARICLEA
Blandine, it’s the hour that the holy old man is waiting for us.
BLANDINE
Let’s leave then. But, we’ll return quickly.
(They both leave)
PROCULA
Not even the alms of a look. It’s all very simple—a slave.
ROMULUS (picking up something)
I was telling you that Jupiter would come to my rescue. Now, here I am, rich!
(Kiomara and the old geezer re-appear.)
All I have to do is run to sell this at the goldsmith’s.
PROCULA
What are you talking about?
ROMULUS
This gewgaw that I just picked up, and that one of those women doubtless lost.
PROCULA
Give me that.
ROMULUS
A joke of a jewe. It’s made in the form of a ross. The silver seems fine.
PROCULA
Yes, I remember. The daughter of Nerva wore that object on her neck. I’ve noticed it several times.
ROMULUS
It’s an amulet that doubtless she must have brought back from Jerusalem where her father was Questor: it seems these Jews are completely idolatrous and pagans.
PROCULA (aside)
O good luck! I might be able to approach her, to speak to her.
(He grabs the jewel)
ROMULUS
Well! What are you doing?
PROCULA
I’m placing the jewel in my belt until I can return it to her.
ROMULUS
Return it? What are you thinking of? I need money.
KIOMARA (coming up)
Would you like to earn a gold-piece?
ROMULUS
Huh?
KIOMARA
I’m asking you if you’d like to earn a gold coin.
ROMULUS
By working?
KIOMARA
No—that would be unworthy of a Citizen of Rome.
ROMULUS
You know who I am?
KIOMARA
I know it.
ROMULUS (aside)
Decidedly, I’m well known.
(aloud)
And what must be done?
KIOMARA
A small thing. I dwell far from this quarter—on the other side of the Pomerium, and I left there this morning with my father who is blind. The old man is weary of the trip and it’s necessary to keep him here until my return
ROMULUS
That’s easy. But I see from that ring that you are a slave. How is it that you have gold to spend?
KIOMARA
I’m not paying you to question me. Do you accept, yes or no?
ROMULUS
I accept, but you are going to find some gallant. It’s easy to have a blind father, and if you will, my beautiful girl,—
(he takes her by the waist and she abruptly pushes him away.)
What looks! One would say the eyes of a panther.
KIOMARA (low to the old man)
You’ll be fine here.
(aside)
Let’s run to save the imprudent youth who will ruins himself without me.
(she leaves)
ROMULUS
O Decadence! Here I am a blind man’s dog now. An idea, Procula, let’s make a swap. I will leave you the silver gewgaw, and you watch the blind-man for me.
PROCULA
Gladly.
ROMULUS
I’m going to lounge around for a while in the shops of the Sacred Way. Down there, at the corner of the street are some very diverting pantomimes, and dancers form Cadiz, sufficiently enticing—and then I was forgetting. It’s the hour they are going to drag the cadaver of Plautus to the pillory, and I want to be there to scream: Down with Tiberius.
PROCULA
Your tongue will end by doing you harm.
ROMULUS
Poor Procula, you know nothing about politics.
PROCULA
Indeed, it’s true.
ROMULUS
(leaving)
Goodbye, Barbarian.
PROCULA
Goodbye, citizen of Rome.
(to old man)
Come into my shop and you can rest.
(an affirmative gesture by the old man)
Would you give me your hand so I can lead you?
(another nod of the head)
Is he mute, too?
(the old man slowly gives him his hand)
That hand is cold like that of a cadaver!
(The old man goes into the workshop.
BLANDINE
No more hope, Chariclea, I’ve ruined him.
CHARICLEA
Ah, it’s a great misfortune.
BLANDINE
Lost. My cross, my dear cross.
PROCULA
Here