The Vestals were chatting gaily with each other about the grand chariot race for which they had seats allotted to them. But two were standing a little apart before a statue which had been placed recently by the side of Flavia Mamilia, who was the most famous of the order, and whose statues are multiplied and the descriptions of her graces and gifts repeated again and again. “They have placed her in good company,” a tall, commanding-looking Vestal said, with a little ring of irony in her voice; “how long will she remain there, and what will be the story of her virtues inscribed below, I marvel! A long one, doubtless--they will never get it all into the space allowed.” The younger Vestal, a maiden of some twenty summers, who had lately entered upon her fully-consecrated duties, replied:-- “The face is not nearly beautiful enough for our lady Maxima. Ah me! how soon this stone resemblance will be all that is left us; she is passing away from us, I know.” “There are some that say the sooner the better; nay, Hermione, do not start back as if I were saying some dreadful thing. I repeat, the sooner the better, for your gracious Hyacintha Severa is acting a part, and the treachery will be discovered unless death prevents it.” “Treachery! nay,” said Hermione with youthful fervour; “nay, our lady is as far removed from treachery as are the heavens from the earth.” “Poor child!” was the provoking rejoinder, “such faith as yours must be sweet if it were not misplaced. I can give you a warning, that certain books have been discovered in the possession of Hyacintha Severa which would, in stricter times, have brought the masons hither to prepare one of those little chambers, whence no one who entered ever came forth alive. It would have been inevitable, but now a loose and careless government has altered things somewhat.” “I cannot hear you speak thus, Cœlia, I cannot. You hate our noble and beautiful lady because she is so far, far above you, because--” “Tush! now, silly little Hermione, I warn you again, be careful, or who knows if a little chamber may not be ready for you, and then there will be a Vestal less, and the stones which will prevent your exit will tell no tales.” Hermione was preparing to hurl forth an angry invective, when a hand was laid on her shoulder:-- “Hermione! nay, do not heed idle threats, but help me to ascend the staircase; I am expected at the council of the priests at noon. I have a statement to make to them which may please you to hear, Cœlia Concordia. You will soon know what that statement is, and may it ease your heart of the burden of rancour and unkindness which you cherish towards me. It must needs be a burden, and I would fain, for your own sake, that you laid it down. My poor statue shall not offend you longer; orders shall be given to place it near the porta, the lowest instead of the highest place.”