“Take this maiden, and clothe her in becoming garments, Lucia. See that she rests well and has proper food, and just before dawn, when I am leaving the temple, bring her to my presence, where she will meet the priest and be received as a disciple. Till then,” she said, waving her hand, “I give her into your keeping.” Hyacintha was a little surprised at the change in the manner and bearing of the maidens the instant their superior was out of hearing. They had stood in respectful silence, with their silks and threads in their hands, and their tongues, like their fingers, had come to a pause. But both were now in active operation again. They clustered round Hyacintha, asking her questions, which she, from imperfect acquaintance with the colloquial language which they spoke, could hardly understand. It is true that the Romans of noble birth in Britain had kept most strictly to their native tongue, regarding the British language as that of slaves. Still, there were differences then, as now, in dialect--those differences which we call provincial--and thus Hyacintha found it far easier to understand the lady Terentia than these vestal maidens, who were as yet only disciples, and chattered in the fashion of young creatures in every age and in every country, clustering round the new arrival like a flock of pigeons round an addition to the dovecot. Lucia, who was older and more considerate, said-- “Peace, will you deafen the child with your rattle! It is truly like the brawling of a brook down the hill-side. Peace, and return to your tasks.” Dazed and bewildered, Hyacintha suffered Lucia to lead her away, but when on the other side of the purple curtain she began to breathe more freely. “You are tired, child, and need rest,” Lucia said. “See, I will measure you for a stole, and cut off your hair, and then you shall have a refreshing bath, and lie on one of the couches till it is time for supper. After that meal is over I will fit your garments again on you, and at dawn you shall be taken to the door of the temple to meet the priest.” Hyacintha was quite passive under Lucia’s hands, and as she operated on her she talked of the vestal’s life, of the insubordination of some of the disciples, of the serious defalcation of two professed vestals, and of the fearful punishment which had been awarded them. Hyacintha listened with a mingled awe and amazement to all she heard. “Yes,” Lucia said, as one by one the golden-brown tresses dropped to the marble floor. “Yes, there have been terrible scenes amongst us, and I often think that children like you, who come hither, know but little of all that lies hidden within these walls.” “But,” said Hyacintha, “is it not the most noble and beautiful life for any woman to keep the sacred fire for ever burning for the Roman people all over the world. Surely, it is nobler and more beautiful than to live only for things which when attained make none happy.”