“That is easily done,” said the Abbess. She clapped her hands and a slave girl answered and received this commission.
“Now,” said she, “now we come to the real difficulty. Here you are, but here you cannot tarry for long. For six days we may accord sanctuary, but for no more. After that we must deliver over the person who has taken refuge with us if required.”
“I have for some time considered what might be done. I have been so miserable, so degraded, so impatient, that I have racked my brain how to escape, and I see but one course. When we were at Cenchræa, my mother and I, we were in the house of a Greek client of our family, who was very kind to us, and his wife loved me well. If I could escape thither in disguise, then I think he would be able to secrete me, there are none so astute as are the Greeks, and who so love to outwit their masters.”
“But how is this possible?”
“That I know not—only let me get away from Rome, then trust my craft to enable me to evade pursuit. Let it be given out that I am here in fulfilment of a vow, then no suspicion will be roused, and I can take my measures.”
“It is not possible,” said Cornelia in some alarm. “Have you considered what your mother said? the Augustus is all-seeing and all-powerful, and has his hand everywhere.”
“Get me out of Italy, and I shall be safe. I will not return to the Palatine. If my life was hateful to me before, what will it be made now? Then he had some fear of his father and of his brother, now he has none to fear.”
The Vestal said, “Let me have time to think this over—and yet, it doth not seem to me feasible.”
“Get me but a beggar’s suit, and walnut juice, that I may stain my face and hands and arms. I will wash all this gold-dust from my hair—and I warrant you none will know me, with a staff and a wallet, I will go forth, right willingly. I will not return to him.”
“That is impossible. You—with your beauty—your nobility——”