Even the Maxima Cossutia remained silent; but Cornelia Cossi, the second in rank, was less cautious. She denied the pre-engagement of Lucia Claudia, and declared her worthy of the living grave decreed by the laws of Numa as the fitting punishment of the vestal who violated her vows. Nero heard her in sullen silence, but Rubria was observed to tremble. Did no dire presentiment cross with its ominous shadow the haughty priestess who then appealed to Nero in his sacerdotal character to revive a fearful law that long had slept, but was destined to be revived to condemn and destroy her. That night Cornelia dreamed she was Maxima, and that Lucia Claudia was buried alive. The sister of Julius remained at his Tarentan villa while these proceedings took place in the Vestal College, but the summons of her brother brought her to Rome, where the sight of a garland suspended over the portal of his house on the Palatine Mount informed her that her cause was gained. Julius, in narrating his legal proceedings, dared not mention the false pretext he had audaciously devised and urged; indeed, he shrank from insulting a noble and chaste Roman virgin with the plea that had virtually compromised her reputation in freeing her from her sacerdotal vow. He left the odious task to the præfect himself, whose daring mind might have scrupled to unveil the fact, if he had not imputed Lucia Claudia’s resignation to motives more in accordance with his views than he had dared to hope; but even Nymphidius Sabinus was abashed by the virtuous indignation manifested by the woman he loved, and dared to claim. Lucia Claudia had expected to meet contempt, reproaches, derision; but for this dreadful blow she was not prepared. She knew that even by the good and virtuous she should be censured; but to become their abhorrence—to be claimed by Nymphidius as his wife—to be perjured thus in the eyes of all men, was worse than death to her high spirit. Young, fair, and noble, admired, venerated, almost deified by those whose superstitious notions made them regard the vestals as the guardians of Rome, Lucia Claudia was not insensible to the homage paid to her charms and virtue. She gloried in her spotless character, and prized, dearly prized, her popularity. She now experienced the annihilation of all her earthly hopes, and felt the reverse most severely; for those whose idol she had lately been, loaded her with invectives; nay, worse, the dissipated, the vicious, dared to place themselves upon a level with her purity, and insulted her with their congratulations. If she sought refuge in the solitude of her own apartment, Julius Claudius invaded its privacy, either to bring her into society she detested, or to subject her to the suit of the bold profligate man who dared to call her his affianced wife. Lucia found her trial bitterer than death, but she still relied upon the God of Israel, for whose sake she was suffering shame and reproach.