By James Baldwin, 1896
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I
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T was a bright morning in the old city of Rome many
hundred years ago. In a vine-covered summer-house in a beautiful garden, two
boys were standing. They were looking at their mother and her friend, who were
walking among the flowers and trees.
"Did you ever see
so handsome a lady as our mother's friend?" asked the younger boy, holding
his tall brother's hand. "She looks like a queen."
"Yet she is not so
beautiful as our mother," said the elder boy. "She has a fine dress,
it is true; but her face is not noble and kind. It is our mother who is like a
queen."
"That is
true," said the other. "There is no woman in Rome so much like a
queen as our own dear mother."
Soon Cornelia, their
mother, came down the walk to speak with them. She was simply dressed in a
plain white robe. Her arms and feet were bare, as was the custom in those days;
and no rings nor chains glittered about her hands and neck. For her only crown,
long braids of soft brown hair were coiled about her head; and a tender smile
lit up her noble face as she looked into her sons' proud eyes.
"Boys," she
said, "I have something to tell you."
They bowed before her,
as Roman lads were taught to do, and said, "What is it, mother?"
"You are to dine
with us to-day, here in the garden; and then our friend is going to show us
that wonderful casket of jewels of which you have heard so much."
The brothers looked
shyly at their mother's friend. Was it possible that she had still other rings
besides those on her fingers? Could she have other gems besides those which
sparkled in the chains about her neck?
When the simple outdoor
meal was over, a servant brought the casket from the house. The lady opened it.
Ah, how those jewels dazzled the eyes of the wondering boys! There were ropes
of pearls, white as milk, and smooth as satin; heaps of shining rubies, red as
the glowing coals; sapphires as blue as the sky that summer day; and diamonds
that flashed and sparkled like the sunlight.
The brothers looked
long at the gems.
"Ah!"
whispered the younger; "if our mother could only have such beautiful
things!"
At last, however, the
casket was closed and carried carefully away.
"Is it true,
Cornelia, that you have no jewels?"
asked her friend. "Is it true, as I have heard it whispered, that
you are poor?"
"No, I am not
poor," answered Cornelia, and as she spoke she drew her two boys to her
side; "for here are my jewels. They are worth more than all your
gems."
I am sure that the boys
never forgot their mother's pride and love and care; and in after years, when
they had become great men in Rome, they often thought of this scene in the
garden. And the world still likes to hear the story of Cornelia's jewels.
