“Well,” he said, “have you anything further to tell me about the drug?”
“Yes,” replied Cleon, “it is a well-known article in the trade. They say that it is made out of some herb which the stags eat to give themselves speed, ‘deers’ garlic’ they call it. (Footnote: Elaphoscorodon, mentioned by Dioscorides.) [196] That may or may not be true. The medicine-sellers have a way of inventing these particulars. But I believe that it is really a very effective thing, probably because it works on the heart and lungs. However, we need not trouble ourselves about this; the really important thing is the counteracting drug. And here we have a choice of three or four.”
I should not like to hurt the poor fellow,” said Dromeus, who, when he was not mastered by his special faults, was not ill-natured. “He has no business here, but I should be very sorry to do him a real injury.”
“Of course not,” replied Cleon. “I should hate doing any such thing quite as much as you. We understand each other then. I find the medicine, and you will take an opportunity of administering it. I would impress upon you not to lose any time, and to be very careful about observing the directions that may come with the medicine. Of course you will contrive that no one should know.”
“You are sure,” cried Dromeus, who began to feel somewhat uneasy, “you are sure that it would not do any real harm?”
“Of course not,” answered Cleon. “What do you take me for? Do I look like a poisoner?”
He certainly looked like a villain, whether he [197] had the peculiar poisoner characteristic or no, and Dromeus could not help thinking so. However, he was too deeply committed to draw back. “And after all,” he argued with himselfarguments which one half of the conscience uses to the other half seldom fail to persuade“a man cannot help his looks.” After a pause of reflection he went on: “Then I rely upon you. And when shall you have it ready?”
I shall have it to-day,” answered Cleon. “Be here again at sunset, and I will hand it to you then. If by any chance I should fail to get it, then come this time to-morrow.”
By the time appointed for the meeting Dromeus had contrived to swallow his scruples. He received the drug with instructions how to use it. It was in a liquid form, and was in a very small compass, and so could be easily dropped into a cup of water. It will suffice to say that the opportunity was found and duly used.
AN ANTIDOTE
[198] AMONG Cleonice’s neighbours was one to whom she was greatly attached. The tie between them was of a particularly tender kind, for Tecmessathis was the neighbour’s namewas her foster sister, her elder by some three months. They had played together as children. Later on, Tecmessa had been with her as companion-maid, treated with a familiar kindness which never seemed to recognize any distinction of degree, but returning all the affection showed her with a delicate sense that the distinction was there after all. Ladies in the position of Cleonice often treat inferiors as if they were equals, and are perfectly sincere in so doing, while yet they unconsciously expect an answering demeanour that an equal would not assume. Tecmessa had borne herself in this somewhat difficult position with the greatest tact and discretion, and the relation between the two had not been troubled by even a hint of disturbance or [199] misunderstanding. About a year and a half before the time my narrative has now reached, Tecmessa had married. Her husband was a prosperous, and, if public opinion could be trusted, a well-conducted young trader. He dealt in a variety of articles, the principal of which were wines, spices and drugs, and was able to give his wife a well-furnished and comfortable home. There was not a better kept household of the class in all Corinth than that of Alexander and Tecmessa. They had one child, a boy of some five months old.
The baby was one morning seized with some mysterious ailment, which entirely perplexed both the father, who had some medical knowledge of a sort, and the local physician, a slave whom his owner permitted to practise on condition of receiving a certain part of his gains. Modern medicine would no doubt have given the illness a name, for the science has advanced prodigiously in classifying, though not perhaps so much in curing. The first thought then was to find a cause in the action of some deity. The child had been smitten, they said, with one of the shafts of Apollo. (Footnote: Apollo was supposed to be the inflicter of sudden death in the case of males, Artemis in the case of females.) Then came the question, how had the parents provoked the wrath [200] of the deity? And here the father was visited with a recollection that struck him with dismay and remorse.
“Oh, Tecmessa,” he cried, “I fear me much that I am in fault. Even before this dreadful thing happened I was anything but easy in my mind. Yesterday about an hour after noon a customer came in, who asked for a particular kind of medicine. I have to keep it, but I must own that I don’t like selling it. It is an excellent medicine, but then a man may easily do himself a great mischief, if he does not know what he is using, or may do a great mischief to some one else if he does know. Still one can hardly refuse a customer. It is like saying to a man, ‘You are either a fool or a poisoner.’ Well, I sold some of it yesterday. I thought that I had seen the man’s face before, but could not fix it, and then it passed out of mind altogether. This morning I heard that Eubulus, the great runner, whom everybody is talking about in Corinth, had been suddenly taken ill. And then it burst upon me all of a sudden that the purchaser was one Cleon, a betting man of no good reputation. Good Heavens! What is to be done?”
“Perhaps,” said Tecmessa, “the lady Cleonice will think of something. She is a wonderfully [201] clever lady. And here, by good luck, she is coming.”
So it was. Cleonice seldom let a couple of days go by without paying a visit to her humble friend; so it was nothing strange that she should make her appearance just in the nick of time. She quite deserved Tecmessa’s praise; she was wonderfully clever; and her native wit at once suggested some simple means for giving the little sufferer at least some temporary ease. While this remedy was being applied, she heard the husband’s story, and here again she was equal to the occasion.
“You found the poison,” she exclaimed, “can’t you find the antidote?”
“Dear me,” cried the husband, striking his hands together, “what an idiot I have been not to think of it! But that baby screaming and writhing about fairly drove everything out of my head. Antidote! of course I can find an antidote.”
“Then don’t lose a moment in doing it. Go and make it up at once and follow me to Aquila’s tent-factory. You know the place? But stay, how long will you be about the andidote?”
“I believe that I have some ready made up,” answered the man.
“In that case,” said Cleonice, “it will save time if you will come with me.”
[202] The chariot in which the girl had come was standing at the door; and the chemist, who had found a dose of the antidote ready, as he had hoped, mounted, not a little abashed at finding himself in so fashionable a vehicle. The party was fortunate enough to find Priscilla at home, and reinforced by her, a naturally capable person, with a large experience gathered in years of charitable ministration to others, went on at once to the trainer’s house. Here confusion reigned supreme. The trainer himself was in despair. Such a thing had never before come within the range of his experience The young man, such was the upshot of the narrative which his visitors somehow contrived to extract from him, had shown all his usual vigour at the exercises, and was just rising from the evening meal, when he fell back speechless and senseless. The physician attached to the school had been hastily summoned, and had not hesitated, on a review of the symptoms, to pronounce that his patient had been poisoned. Before his arrival, however, a rough and ready remedy had been applied which had possibly saved the young man’s life. One of the pupils had a faint recollection of seeing a similar case healed by the application of a strong current of cold water to the back of the neck. This was done, and pulsation, which appeared to be [203] suspended, was revived. (Footnote: Probably the young man had been dosed with some preparation of the strychnine kind.) The physician had nothing to suggest except the administration of a cordial. This had been attempted, but with little success. The patient’s teeth were firmly clenched, and it was almost impossible to make him swallow. This physical difficulty was the first that had to be overcome. How Priscilla overcame it is beyond the present chronicler’s power to describe. She had had a large experience in a class of disease much more frequent in Southern Europe than in our own land, a class of which the generic name is tetanus or lockjaw, and of which this is the most painful and perplexing symptom. After a long course of patient effort she accomplished her end; the antidote was administered and its powerfully stimulant qualities made it speedily effective. During some part of the time Cleonice had been present rendering such help as she could. As the crisis approached, Priscilla, almost fearing that an experience so full of excitement might throw another patient on her hands, compelled her to retire. When appearances began to indicate the favourable result of which at one time every one had despaired, she could not resist the temptation [204] of calling her back. The situation was, as we know, profoundly interesting to her, and she, could not decline the chance of seeing how it would develop itself. As a nurse, too, she could easily persuade herself that nothing could be better for the patient than that his eyes should first open on what she knew was the dearest sight that this world could show him.