Hyacintha listened with a mingled awe and amazement to all she heard.
“Yes,” Lucia said, as one by one the golden-brown tresses dropped to the marble floor. “Yes, there have been terrible scenes amongst us, and I often think that children like you, who come hither, know but little of all that lies hidden within these walls.”
“But,” said Hyacintha, “is it not the most noble and beautiful life for any woman to keep the sacred fire for ever burning for the Roman people all over the world. Surely, it is nobler and more beautiful than to live only for things which when attained make none happy.”
“Happy! Ah, my child, happiness is like the bow across the wide Campagna. You see its many-coloured arch and hasten to reach it, and, lo! it is gone; the nearer you think you get to it, the further it seems. But the gods are kind to us poor mortals, and our goddess Vesta does not forget us. You are but a child, a young child,” Lucia said, surveying Hyacintha as she stood up before her in a loose underrobe, with all her marvellously lovely hair gone, and the little slender figure, beautifully formed, giving the appearance of extreme youth.
“I am nearly twelve years old!” Hyacintha said.
“Twelve years old. Ah!” Lucia said, with an appraising critical glance, “there is something in your eyes which tells of thought and reflection which a child under ten years of age could not possess. And what hands and feet! Only a Roman patrician could show such. Well, if you are ready, we will go to the bath that is always required before the stole can be worn.”
“I would fain keep the token of my birth, and that I am the daughter of Severus,” Hyacintha said, as she saw Lucia casting aside in a heap all her travel-stained garments, and the chain which she had worn round her neck with the coin attached to it.
“I know not whether you will be permitted to retain it,” Lucia said, “but I will put it in this casket, and consult the Vestal Maxima. And now let us go to the bath.”