“Whew!” cried Brinnaria, springing to her feet and snapping her fingers. “That is ingenious! That will give me trouble! I didn’t credit Calvaster with that much sense. I never thought of anyone looking askance at my relations with Quintus. I’ve never taken any precautions as to when I was with him or how long or where. I’ve treated him as an honorary brother, seeing I have no brothers of my own left alive. Flexinna has been such a sister to me, that we have disregarded Quintus almost as if he were a slave or a statue or a picture on the wall or another woman. Whew!” “You perceive,” said Lutorius, “that the situation, in general, is very serious?” “I do, indeed!” admitted Brinnaria. “Serious as it is in general,” he went on, “it is still more serious in particular. Your excursion to Aricia was by no means as much a secret as you have all along supposed. I, for instance, knew of it before you confessed it to me.” “How was that?” Brinnaria inquired. “Numisia,” he explained, “saw you go out in Flexinna’s clothes and recognized you. She entered your room and talked with Flexinna. She summoned me and we conferred. We both loved you and we both believed in you. We were solicitous for the cult, but we were nearly as much solicitous for you. We agreed that we were almost fully warranted in assuming your entire innocence of heart and that your impulsive behavior would not alienate the good will of the Goddess. We decided to take it upon ourselves to judge you blameless and to shield you. Utta was instructed never to let you know that Numisia had seen Flexinna; Flexinna, of course, fell in with our plans. Numisia made every arrangement that would prevent any more from learning the secret and would make your return easy. “After you came back safe our decision seemed justified. I talked with Vocco and learned that nothing had occurred to render your exposure likely, except your encounter with Calvaster. As we heard nothing from Calvaster we felt entirely successful. It turns out that he was only biding his time. He has formally accused you before the College of Pontiffs, alleging in general your long-continued familiarity with Vocco, and, in particular, your having been outside of Rome after midnight in Vocco’s company.” “Whew,” Brinnaria exclaimed, “this is indeed serious! I feel myself strangling or starving in a vaulted cell. What am I to do?” “See Commodus first of all,” said Lutorius. In the short interval since her former audience, those traits of which he had previously shown the merest traces had rapidly developed in Commodus into fixed characteristics. He had become what he remained until his end, an odd mingling of loutish, peevish school-boy, easy-going, self-indulgent athlete and superstitious, suspicious despot.