“I swear,” continued Tigellinus, “that the meeting was premeditated. She knew Helius occupied the tribunal, and came to snatch the atheist from justice.” “I call upon the name of Vesta to attest my truth,” replied the vestal in a firmer tone than that in which she recently made her claim; “I plead the law of Numa.” “I abrogate it thus in Cæsar’s name,” cried Tigellinus, snatching an axe from the hand of a lictor, and upraising it to slay the Christian. Lucius Claudius sprang forward to defend his sister’s privilege, but before he gained the spot, the colleague of Tigellinus had caught his arm and preventing his design, bowed low before the vestal whose beauty had subdued his wish to slay, saying, “Forbear, Tigellinus, to infringe the privileges of the vestal order. Respect the goddess Vesta herself, in the person of the noblest and fairest of Roman ladies.” Then fixing his bold eyes admiringly upon Lucia Claudia, he continued: “The man who can resist charms like thine were worse even than the churlish Greek who wounded Venus in his ireful mood. See, the sword of justice is edgeless before the pleading voice of beauty.” He motioned to the lictors to unbind the Christian, still gazing ardently upon the fair countenance of Lucia Claudia. From the licentious stare and free speech of Nymphidius the vestal virgin shrank abashed. Her modest eyes sank beneath those the præfect boldly turned upon her lovely face. She looked no longer like the high-minded heroine who daringly opposed bad men in power to plead her rights of mercy, but like a timid maid whom compassion had led to overcome the weakness and fearfulness of her sex, but who now blushed at the effect of her own temerity, ashamed of the triumph her virtue and charms had won. This beautiful shame, this touching timidity, the expression of wounded modesty in her bashful eyes, excited a new feeling in the bosom of the Hebrew slave, who no longer regarded the sister of Lucius as a heathen priestess, but as a woman the loveliest and purest of her sex. Linus, the rescued Christian, turning to his preserver, thanked and blessed her; but with an air of offended dignity the vestal turned away. “Go,” she said, “amend thy creed and live.” “So near the gate of heaven—and yet so distant!” rejoined the Christian. “Farewell, Lucia Claudia, and peace be with thee: we shall meet again.”