Through the opening in the roof the deep blue sky of the Italian night was seen, studded with stars, and from afar came the sound of the surging multitudes of Rome, like the distant roar of the sea, growing less and less distinct as the summer night hushed even the busy throngs of the Roman citizens to rest. Hyacintha felt a sense of awe, but not of fear. She looked up at the face of the figure of the goddess, and then beyond it, upwards to the stars, and she felt as far from the one as from the other. There was no bond of love between Vesta and her priestess, no sign that for her she felt any particular care or affection. It was a high honour to be her priestess; from her childhood she had craved for it, and now the honour was hers, and yet, surely, there was a void, a want somewhere, which Vesta could not fill. It was service for Rome to guard that sacred fire, and as she moved gently, with a sort of hushed reverence, to the silver vessels where the fuel was kept, to replenish that clear bright flame, she almost started at her own movements, and scarcely dared to breathe, as she gently and reverently fed the sacred fire. “It is for the good of Rome and her people,” she thought, “it is a service which many thousands might envy, but there is scarce the response within my heart of which Claudius spoke; did he not call it ‘a witness.’ I felt a great glow of joy to-day when I took poor little Pulcheria to my chamber, and consoled her for her grief that she was not thought fair enough to lead the procession of the children disciples through Rome to-morrow. Poor little one! how she wept because Valeria had been elected and she was rejected. As she threw her arms round my neck and sobbed out that she loved to be with me, and that she would not care about Valeria’s unkind words if I were her friend, I felt that sweetness at my heart which I do not feel here. Here, where I am fulfilling the most beautiful of offices--the guardian of the Palladium--the replenishing of the sacred flame! “I ought to be satisfied and happy, with a happiness greater than that of the pleasure-seeking ladies, whose life is passed in indulgence, and who die at last, worn out with the search for that, to judge by many sad faces, they never find. “I have a higher and nobler destiny to fulfil, and I can never become like old Lucia or Agrippina, who go through all the service of the temple with slow unwilling feet, dark sad eyes, and even mutter words of dissatisfaction.