“Ah, yes! ah, yes! good Claudius, I thank you. Ebba has told me of the noble deed, and Casca, too, has spoken of you. But I have seen neither of them for years. I thank you now for your deed of valour, good Claudius.”
As she stood in the light of the early morning, Claudius could not have drawn nearer or taken her hand in his. An invisible but strong barrier seemed to keep him back.
“My father,” she asked, “is there news of him? I know my mother is dead, and the little Livia also. These tidings were brought me by Caius, whose galley has been several times to Londinium since those far-off days, when he brought us hither, Casca and me.”
“Your father, the noble Severus, has married my sister Junia. Has he never told you?”
“No,” Hyacintha said, the blush on her cheek fading. “No, I hear it now for the first time. I would I had never heard it; forgive me, for Junia is your sister.”
“There is no need to claim forgiveness. I think as hardly of my sister as any one, but I pray daily for her conversion, and I will believe not in vain, for the Lord can change the heart and bring sweetness out of bitterness.”
“Art thou too a Christian?” Hyacintha asked, with an almost imperceptible start backwards.
“A Christian,” Claudius said, “ay, verily, and I would to God you were one also.”
“I,” said Hyacintha, proudly. “Nay, this day is my happy day, the day when I, who have been for near ten years training under the care of the sacred virgins, have my lot appointed me to minister in the temple and sprinkle the shrine with this pure water, which I have been allowed to draw myself alone at dawn for the first time. To-morrow is our glad festival, and we shall walk through the city in a long procession, and to-night I shall for the first time keep watch alone in the temple. It is a great and wonderful thing to be a vestal! I would not exchange my lot for an Imperial diadem,” she said, with a proud dignified motion of her head. “I would I were more worthy to fulfil so high a destiny.”
Claudius, who had led a Roman phalanx against hordes of barbarians, and had never feared danger or shrunk from death, felt strangely timid in the presence of this beautiful friend of his early years.