If it had not been for the liveries of the two heralds, the palanquin of Domitia could not have got through, but when it was observed whose litter and servants were endeavoring to make way, the crowd readily divided, and every obstacle gave way immediately. But the Vestal Superior needed not that the Cæsar’s wife should open the road for her. As much respect was accorded to her as to Domitia.
Both trains, the one following immediately after the other, entered and traversed the Forum, passed the Temple of Julius, and at the south extremity reached the Atrium of the Vestal Virgins, a long building without a window, communicating with the outer world by a single door.
At this door Domitia descended from her litter, and awaited the Abbess.
Cornelia also stepped from her litter. She was a tall and stately lady of forty years, who had once been beautiful, but whose charms were faded. She smiled—
“You will pay me a visit, as you go your way? that is a gracious favor.”
“A lengthy visit,” said Domitia.
“Time will never seem long in your sweet society,” answered the Vestal and taking Domitia’s hand led her up the steps to the platform.
No sooner was Domitia there, than she ran to the altar of the Goddess on which burned the perpetual fire, within a domed Temple, and clasped it. Cornelia had followed her, and looked at her with surprise.
“I claim the protection of the Goddess,” said Domitia. “I will not return to the palace! I will be free from him.”
Cornelia became grave.