“I cannot hear you speak thus, Cœlia, I cannot. You hate our noble and beautiful lady because she is so far, far above you, because—”
“Tush! now, silly little Hermione, I warn you again, be careful, or who knows if a little chamber may not be ready for you, and then there will be a Vestal less, and the stones which will prevent your exit will tell no tales.”
Hermione was preparing to hurl forth an angry invective, when a hand was laid on her shoulder:—
“Hermione! nay, do not heed idle threats, but help me to ascend the staircase; I am expected at the council of the priests at noon. I have a statement to make to them which may please you to hear, Cœlia Concordia. You will soon know what that statement is, and may it ease your heart of the burden of rancour and unkindness which you cherish towards me. It must needs be a burden, and I would fain, for your own sake, that you laid it down. My poor statue shall not offend you longer; orders shall be given to place it near the porta, the lowest instead of the highest place.”
She spoke slowly and with difficulty, for her breath was short, and a little dry gasping cough interrupted her again and again.
“You speak in riddles, most gracious lady,” Cœlia replied; “I admire the excellence of your statue, and give the sculptor the highest meed of praise for the manner in which it is wrought. Flavia Mamilia is happy to have your near neighbourhood. I must hasten, as the elder of the company who resort to the Circus Maximus, to collect my maidens. A chariot race is a grand thing to witness, but there are many who find it tame sport in comparison to that of former times, when Christians were thrown, as they deserved, to the lions.”
A strong emphasis was laid on the word Christians, and a glance of hatred from the Vestal’s dark eyes, directed at Hyacintha, told its own story, as she made the usual obeisance to the Vestal Maxima, and went to the farther end of the atrium.
Hyacintha stood for a few moments leaning heavily on Hermione’s arm, and gazing at the marble resemblance of herself.
A faint smile passed over her face, and she said in a low voice:—
“They will soon forget me, little Hermione, but you will ever love me.”