“Happy! Ah, my child, happiness is like the bow across the wide Campagna. You see its many-coloured arch and hasten to reach it, and, lo! it is gone; the nearer you think you get to it, the further it seems. But the gods are kind to us poor mortals, and our goddess Vesta does not forget us. You are but a child, a young child,” Lucia said, surveying Hyacintha as she stood up before her in a loose underrobe, with all her marvellously lovely hair gone, and the little slender figure, beautifully formed, giving the appearance of extreme youth. “I am nearly twelve years old!” Hyacintha said. “Twelve years old. Ah!” Lucia said, with an appraising critical glance, “there is something in your eyes which tells of thought and reflection which a child under ten years of age could not possess. And what hands and feet! Only a Roman patrician could show such. Well, if you are ready, we will go to the bath that is always required before the stole can be worn.” “I would fain keep the token of my birth, and that I am the daughter of Severus,” Hyacintha said, as she saw Lucia casting aside in a heap all her travel-stained garments, and the chain which she had worn round her neck with the coin attached to it. “I know not whether you will be permitted to retain it,” Lucia said, “but I will put it in this casket, and consult the Vestal Maxima. And now let us go to the bath.” CHAPTER VIII. DISCIPLESHIP. Hyacintha slept soundly after her bath, and a supper of fruit and delicately-baked bread, crisp and fresh, after the fashion of our modern biscuits. A draught of the pure water from the spring on the hill above the house of the vestals was refreshing, and it was the daily duty of the vestals to draw it for the service of the house and the temple. Hyacintha was awoke by Lucia’s voice. “It is nearing the dawn,” she said; “the cock has crowed twice, and I see the first signs of Aurora’s coming feet in the eastern sky. Now arise, little maiden, and I will dress you for your presentation to the priest.” Hyacintha sprang up at once, and after another ablution of clear cold water, the attendant vestal put upon her little feet a pair of sandals, and the fine robe which she was to wear under the stole. The stole itself and the fillet which was to bind her hair the vestal placed in a basket, and then telling Hyacintha to follow her, she led the way to the chamber of Terentia Rufilla. This chamber was nearly adjoining the temple, and to reach it, it was necessary to descend again and cross the large atrium, now almost dark, except for the faint light of a lamp which hung in the large porta or gateway. The sunshine could not reach this stately hall, which consisted of eight Corinthian columns of veined marble, with pure white bases.