With pomp came the emperor, prætorians, and civic officers; with pomp came the six vestals, the virgo vestalis maxima and her five sister priestesses, splendidly attended. The six were robed in white, stola and pallium, their hair bound with ribands of white wool. They took the seats of the vestals, over against the emperor. With them, to-day, came the newly chosen young vestal, the child of ten, daughter of Valerian and Valeria. She was dressed like the older priestesses, but her hair had been cut upon her taking the vows. She had an especial place; she sat stiffly, in view of all, a little figure all in white, with folded hands. Her vows were for thirty years. For ten of these she would be trained in the service of Vesta, for ten she would watch the sacred fire, bring the sacred water, offer the sacrifices of salt cakes, the libations of wine and oil, pray for the Roman State, guard the Palladium; for ten she would teach the youthful vestals. She would have enormous honour, great privileges.
The freedwoman and her daughter, leaning forward in their places, whispering each to the other, watched the child in white. “See the people look at her! Are the games for Flavia?” asked the child Iras, and she spoke with a child’s jealousy.
“Eat thy grapes, my poor babe! Thou wilt not have a great house and riches and honour like the vestals!” Lais gave her rich, chuckling laugh. “Neither, if thou lettest the fire go out at home, shalt thou be cruelly scourged! Nor, when thou art older, if thou slippest once—just once—just one little time—shalt thou be buried alive!”
The little, new vestal sat still, with her hands crossed before her. Her eyes filled with tears, they rolled down her cheeks. The attendants having her in charge whispered to her hastily. She must not weep! “Then turn me so that I cannot see my mother.”
Valerian with Valeria his wife had bowed before the emperor. Now they sat quietly, with a studied lack of state, as was fitting, about them friends of the soberer sort. Valerian talked with the Stoic Paulinus. Valeria sat still as a figure of ivory and gold, her long-fingered hands clasped in her lap, her eyes upon the garlanded place of the vestals, upon the little figure sitting so stiffly.... Down in the arena they were making ready, and in the meantime five hundred dancing fauns and nymphs gave entertainment.
Not till there began the struggle between man and beast and man and man would tense interest stop the voice of the host. Up and down the sound was as of the sea, or of a high wind in those endless barbarian forests on the edge of empire where Valerian had been. Behind the freedwoman and her child crowded market men and women, provincials of low estate, half a dozen soldiers. Of these last it appeared that Valerian had been general. Their general figured in their talk, and they did not scant their praise. They called him brave and wary, good father to his cohorts. A provincial asked about the children of his body. Lais turned a little toward the speakers.—“All but this one died. He adopted a son so that his name should last—see, the young man standing up! But he has no own children save the little vestal.”
Lais, with a jerk of her head, went back to eating grapes and contemplating the fauns and nymphs.
“No lawful children, you mean?” said the provincial.
“Of course,” answered the soldier: “owned children. There are owned children and there are unowned children.—Ha! Watch them leap and dance!”
Lais ate the purple grapes, spitting out the seeds. Iras, leaning forward, watched the wreathing fauns and nymphs. “Mother, mother! When I am grown I will be a dancer!”