Time and the tide wear through the longest day.
SHAKSPEARE.

“At last, I have thee, Julia!”

Mighty indeed was the effort of the mind, which enabled that fair slight girl to bear up with an undaunted lip and serene eye against the presence of that atrocious villain; and hope, never-dying hope, was the spirit which nerved her to that effort.

It was strange, knowing as she did the character of that atrocious and bloodthirsty tyrant, that she should not have given way entirely to feminine despair and terror, or sought by tears and prayers to disarm his purpose.

But her high blood cried out from every vein and artery of her body; and she stood calm and sustained by conscious virtue, even in that extremity of peril; neither tempting assault by any display of coward weakness, nor provoking it by any show of defiance.

There is nothing, perhaps, so difficult to any one who is not a butcher or an executioner by trade, with sensibilities blunted by the force of habit, as to attack or injure any thing, which neither flies, nor resists, neither braves, nor trembles.

And Catiline himself, savage and brutal as he was, full of ungoverned impulse and unbridled passion, felt, though he knew not wherefore, this difficulty at this moment.

Had she fallen at his feet, trembling, and tearful, and implored his mercy, he would have gloated on her terrors, laughed tears and prayers to scorn, yea! torn her from an altar's foot, to pour out upon her the vials of agony and foul pollution.

Had she defied, or braved his violence, his fury would have trampled her to the earth in an instant, and murder would have followed in the footsteps of worse violence.

But as she stood there, firm, cold, erect, and motionless as a statue of rare marble, with scarcely a pulse throbbing in her veins, and her clear azure eyes fixed on him with a cold and steady gaze, as if she would have fascinated him by their serene chaste influence, he likewise stood and gazed upon her with a strange mixture of impressions, wherein something akin to love and admiration were blent with what, in minds of better mould, should have been reverence and awe.

He felt, in short, that he lacked 'a spur to prick the sides of his intent,' a provocation to insult and aggression yet stronger than the passion and hot thirst of vengeance, which had been well nigh chilled by her severe and icy fortitude.

'Tis said that a lion will turn and flee,
From a maid in the pride of her purity;

and here a fiercer and more dangerous savage stood powerless and daunted for the moment, by the same holy influence of virtue, which, it is said, has potency to tame the pinched king of the desert.

It was not, however, in the nature of that man to yield himself up long to any influence, save that of his own passions, and after standing mute for perhaps a minute, during which the flush on his sallow cheek, and the glare of his fiery eye, were blanched and dimmed somewhat, he advanced a step or two toward her, repeating the words,

“I have thee; thou art mine, Julia.”

Thy prisoner, Catiline, she replied quietly if you make women prisoners.”

“My slave, minion.”

“I am free-born, and noble. A patrician of a house as ancient as thine own. My ancestors, I have heard say, fought side by side with Sergius Silo.”

“The more cause, that their daughter should sleep side by side with Sergius Catiline!” he replied with bitter irony; but there was less of actual passion in his tones, than of a desire to lash himself into fury.

“The less cause that a free-born lady should be disgraced by the grandson of his comrade in arms, who gave her father being.”

Thus far her replies had been conducted in the spirit most likely to control, if any thing could control, the demon that possessed him; but seeing that her words had produced more effect on him than she had deemed possible, she made an effort to improve her advantage, and added, looking him firmly in the eye,

“I have heard tell that thou art proud, Catiline, as thou art nobly born. Let, then, thine own pride

“Proud! Proud! Ha! minion! What have your nobles left me that I should glory in what of which I may still be proud? A name of the grandest, blasted by their base lies, and infamous! Service converted into shame! valor warped into crime! At home poverty, degradation, ruin! Abroad, debt, mockery, disgrace! Proud! proud! By Nemesis! fond girl. I am proud to be the thing that they have made me, a terror, and a curse to all who call themselves patrician. For daring, remorseless! for brave, cruel! for voluptuous, sensual! for fearless, ruthless! for enterprising, reckless! for ambitious, desperate! for a man, a monster! for a philosopher, an atheist! Ha! ha! ha! ha! I am proud, minion, proud to be that I am that which thou, Julia, shalt soon find me!”

She perceived, when it was too late, the error which she had made, and fearful of incensing him farther, answered nothing. But he was not so to be set at naught, for he had succeeded now in lashing himself into a fit of fury, and advancing upon her, with a face full of all hideous passions, a face that denoted his fell purpose, as plainly as any words could declare them.

“Dost hear me, girl, I say? Thou art mine, Julia.”

“Thy prisoner, Catiline,” she again repeated in the same steady tone as at first; but the charm had now failed of its effect, and it was fortunate for the sweet girl, that the fell wretch before whom she stood defenceless, had so much of the cat-like, tiger-like spirit in his nature, so much that prompted him to tantalize and torment before striking, to teaze and harass and break down the mind, before doing violence to the body of his subject enemies, or of those whom he chose to deem such.

Had he suspected at this moment that any chance of succor was at hand, however remote, he lacked neither the will nor the occasion to destroy her. He fancied that she was completely at his mercy; and perceiving that, in despite of her assumed coolness, she writhed beneath the terrors of his tongue, he revelled in the fiendish pleasure of triumphing in words over her spirit, before wreaking his vengeance on her person.

“My slave! Julia. My slave, soul and body! my slave, here and for ever! Slave to my passions, and my pleasures! Wilt yield, or resist, fair girl? Resist, I do beseech thee! Let some fire animate those lovely eyes, even if it be the fire of fury some light kindle those pallid cheeks, even if it be the light of hatred! I am aweary of tame conquests.”

“Then wherefore conquer; or conquering, wherefore not spare? she answered.

“I conquer, to slake my thirst of vengeance. I spare not, for the wise man's word to the fallen, is still, VÆ VICTIS. Wilt yield, or resist, Julia? wilt be the sharer, or the victim of my pleasures? speak, I say, speak!” he shouted savagely, perceiving that she sought to evade a direct answer. “Speak and reply, directly, or I will do to thee forthwith what most thou dreadest! and then wipe out thy shame by agonies of death, to which the tortures of old Regulus were luxury.”

“If I must choose, the victim!” she replied steadily. “But I believe you will not so disgrace your manhood.”

“Ha! you believe so, you shall feel soon and know. One question more, wilt thou yield or resist?

“Resist,” she answered, “to the last, and when dishonored, die, and by death, like Lucretia, win back greater honor! Lucretia's death had witnesses, and her tale found men's ears.”

“Thy death shall be silent, thy shame loud. I will proclaim the first my deed, the last thy voluntary .”

“Proclaim it! she interrupted him, with her eyes flashing bright indignation, and her lip curling with ineffable disdain; as she forgot all prudence in the scorn called forth by his injurious words Proclaim it to the world! who will believe it?

“The world. Frailty's name is woman!

“And Falsehood's Catiline!

“By Hades! and he sprang upon her with a bound like that of a tiger, and twined his arms about her waist, clasping her to his breast with brutal violence, and striving to press his foul lips on her innocent mouth; but she, endowed with momentary strength, infinitely unwonted and unnatural, the strength of despair and frenzy, caught his bare throat with both her hands, and writhing herself back to the full length of her arms, uttered a volume of shrieks, so awfully shrill and piercing, that they struck terror into the souls of the brutal rebels without, and harrowed up the spirits of her friends, who lay concealed within earshot, waiting, now almost in despair, an opportunity to aid her.

So strong was the clutch which her small hands had fixed upon his throat, that ere he could release himself, sufficiently to draw a full breath, he was compelled to let her go; and ere he fully recovered himself, she had made a spring back toward the window, with the evident purpose of throwing herself out into the yawning gulf below it.

But something caught her eye which apparently deterred her, and turning her back upon it quickly, she faced her persecutor once again.

At this moment, there was a loud and angry bustle in the outer court, immediately followed by a violent knocking at the door; but so terrible was the excitement of both these human beings, her's the excitement of innocence in trial, his of atrocity triumphant, that neither heard it, though it was sudden and strong enough to have startled any sleepers, save those of the grave.

“Ha! but this charms me! I knew not that you had so much of the Tigress to fit you for the Tiger's mate. But what a fool you are to waste your breath in yells and your strength in struggles, like to those, when there are none to hear, or to witness them.”

“Witnesses are found to all crimes right early and avengers!” she exclaimed with the high mien of a prophetess; and still that vehement knocking continued, unheeded as the earthquake which reeled unnoticed beneath the feet of the combatants at Thrasymene.

“To this at least there are no witnesses! there shall be no avengers!”

“The Gods are my witnesses! shall be my avengers!”

“Tush! there are no Gods, Julia!”

And again he rushed on her and caught her in his arms. But as he spoke those impious words, sprang to do that atrocious deed, a witness was found, and it might be an avenger.

Unnoticed by the traitor in the fierce whirlwind of his passion, that hunter boy stood forth on the further brink; revealed, a boy no longer; for the Phrygian bonnet had fallen off, and the redundant raven tresses of a girl flowed back on the wind. Her attitude and air were those of Diana as she bent her good bow against the ravisher Orion. Her right foot advanced firmly, her right hand drawn back to the ear, her fine eye glaring upon the arrow which bore with unerring aim full on the breast of her own corrupter, her own father, Catiline.

Who had more wrongs to avenge than Lucia?

Another second, and the shaft would have quivered in the heart of the arch villain, sped by the hand from which he deserved it the most dearly. The room within was brighter than day from the red torch light which filled it, falling full on the gaunt form and grim visage of the monster. Her hand was firm, her eye steady, her heart pitiless. But in the better course of her changed life, heaven spared her the dread crime of parricide.

Just as the chord was at the tightest, just as the feathers quivered, and the barb thrilled, about to leap from the terse string, the tall form of the soldier sprang up into the clear moonlight from the underwood, and crying “Hold! hold!” mastered her bowhand, with the speed of light, and dragged her down into the covert.

Well was it that he did so. For just as Catiline seized Julia the second time in his resistless grasp, and ere his lips had contaminated her sweet mouth, the giant Crispus, who had so long been knocking unheeded, rushed into the room, and seized his leader by the shoulder unseen, until he literally touched him.

“Another time for this;” he said, “Catiline. There are tidings from Rome; which

“To Tartarus with thy tidings! Let them tarry!”

They will not tarry, Catiline, replied the smith, who was as pale as a ghost and almost trembling least of all for such painted woman's flesh as this is!”

“Get thee away! It were better, wiser, safer to stand between the Lion and his prey, than between Catiline and Julia.”

“Then have it!” shouted the smith. “All is discovered! all undone! Lentulus and Cethegus, Gabinius and Statilius, and Caeparius all dead by the hangman's noose in the Tullianum!”

“The idiots! is that all? thy precious tidings! See! how I will avenge them.” And he struggled to shake himself free from the grasp of Crispus.

But the smith held him firmly, and replied, “It is not all, Catiline. Metellus Celer is within ten leagues of the camp, at the foot of the mountains. We have no retreat left into Gaul. Come! come! speak to the soldiers! You can deal with this harlotry hereafter.”

Catiline glared upon him, as if he would have stabbed him to the heart; but seeing the absolute necessity of enquiring into the truth of this report, he turned to leave the room.

“The Gods be praised! the Gods have spoken loud! The Gods have saved me!” cried Julia falling on her knees. “Are there no Gods now, O Catiline?”

“To Hades! with thy Gods!” and, striking the unhappy girl a coward blow, which felled her to the ground senseless, he rushed from the room with his confederate in crime, barring the outer door behind him.