The mother, who spoilt her son, went to his father, and Juvenal called his son and began to upbraid both him and his mother. Julius answered his father rudely and Juvenal struck him. Julius seized his father’s arm, at which Juvenal shouted to his slaves and bade them bind his son and lock him up.
Julius was left alone, and he cursed his father and his own life.
It seemed to him that the only way of escape from his present position was either by his own or his father’s death.
Julius’s mother suffered even more than he did. She did not try to understand who was to blame for all this. She only pitied her adored son. She went again to her husband to implore him to forgive the youth, but he would not listen to her, and reproached her for having spoilt their son. She in turn reproached him, and it ended by Juvenal beating his wife. Disregarding this, however, she went to her son and persuaded him to beg his father’s pardon and yield to his wishes, in return for which she promised to take the money he needed from her husband by stealth, and give it him. Julius agreed, and then his mother again went to Juvenal and urged him to forgive his son. Juvenal scolded his wife and son for a long time, but at last decided that he would forgive Julius, on condition that he should abandon his dissolute life and marry the daughter of a rich merchant – a match Juvenal was very anxious to arrange.
‘He will get money from me and also have his wife’s dowry,’ said Juvenal, ‘and then let him settle down to a decent life. If he promises to obey my wishes, I will forgive him; but I will not give him anything at present, and the first time he transgresses I will hand him over to the prefect.’
Julius submitted to his father’s conditions and was released. He promised to marry and to abandon his bad life, but he had no intention of doing so.
Life at home now became a hell for him. His father did not speak to him and quarrelled with his mother on his account, and his mother wept.
One day she called him into her apartments and secretly handed him a precious stone which she had taken from her husband’s room.
‘Go and sell it,’ she said, ‘not here but in another town, and then do what you have to do. I shall be able to conceal its loss for the present, and if it is discovered I will lay the blame on one of the slaves.’
Julius’s heart was pierced by his mother’s words. He was horrified at what she had done, and without taking the precious stone he left the house.
He did not himself know where he was going or with what aim. He walked on and on out of the town, feeling that he needed to be alone, and thinking over all that had happened to him and that awaited him. Going farther and farther away at last he reached the sacred grove of the goddess Diana. Coming to a secluded spot he began to think, and the first thought that occurred to him was to seek the goddess’s aid. But he no longer believed in the gods, and knew that he could not expect aid from them. And if not from them, then from whom?
To think out his position for himself seemed to him too strange. All was darkness and confusion in his soul. But there was nothing else to be done. He had to listen to his conscience, and began to consider his life and his actions in the light of it. And both appeared to him bad, and above all stupid. Why had he tormented himself like this? Why had he ruined his young life in such a way? It had brought him little happiness and much sorrow and unhappiness. But chiefly he felt himself alone. Formerly he had had a mother whom he loved, a father, and friends. Now there was no one. Nobody loved him! He was a burden to them all. He had been a cause of suffering to all who knew him. For his mother he was the cause of discord with his father. For his father he was the dissipator of the wealth collected by a lifetime of labour. For his friends he was a dangerous and disagreeable rival. They must all desire his death.
Passing his life in review he remembered Pamphilius and his last meeting with him, and how Pamphilius had invited him to go there, to the Christians. And it occurred to him not to return home, but to go straight to the Christians and remain with them.
But could his position be so desperate? he wondered. Again he recalled all that had happened to him, and again he was horrified at the idea that nobody loved him and that he loved no one. His mother, father, and friends did not care for him and must wish for his death. But did he himself love anyone? His friends? He felt that he loved none of them: they were all his rivals and would be pitiless to him now that he was in distress. His father? He was seized with horror when he put himself that question. He looked into his heart and found that not only did he not love his father, he even hated him for the restraint and insult he had put upon him. He hated him, and more than that he saw clearly that his father’s death was necessary for his own happiness.
