Commodus goggled his eyes at her even more than habitually. “Carry water in a sieve,” he cried, “as Tuccia did?” “There is a legend,” said Brinnaria sedately, “that some Vestal once proved her holiness by carrying water in a sieve. And the story is connected with Tuccia in popular tradition. But if it was ever done some other Vestal did it. Poor Tuccia was innocent, as far as I can judge from the minutes of her trial. But she was not absolved, by intervention of Vesta or of her judges. She was condemned and buried. You can read the verdict as well as the details of the proceedings in the records. And what is left of poor Tuccia is now in one of those tiny vaulted cells under the Wicked Field. You will find, along with the documents of her case, the bill for the wages of the mason who completed the vault after she had descended the ladder and the affidavits of the sentinels who patrolled the spot day and night for a month, according to custom.” “Never mind who did it or didn’t do it, or whether it ever was done at all before,” said Commodus, “if I saw you carry water in a sieve I’d hold it a plain sign of Vesta’s particular favor to you, of your special acceptability to her, of the correctness of my intuitions about you and about this whole wretched business. “Do I understand you to offer to demonstrate your innocence by carrying water in a sieve?” “That is my offer!” said Brinnaria. “But,” he protested, “the thing can’t be done. It’s impossible! Better stand your chance of a trial.” “I am sure,” said Brinnaria, “that my Goddess will not desert me. I know I am innocent and acceptable to her. She knows me and will give me the power to prove my worthiness. She will no fail me. I know I can do it.” “Do I understand you to offer to do it in broad daylight before me and the whole College of Pontiffs, Calvaster and all?” “In sight of all Rome,” said Brinnaria, “if all Rome could crowd near enough to see.” “Do I understand you,” said the Emperor, “to stake your life on the venture, and, just as you would expect full absolution if you succeed, so to expect a rigid and severely stern trial before me and the College of Pontiffs, with your failure counting against you, if you fail in the attempt?” “That is my understanding,” said Brinnaria, unflinching, her clear eyes on his face, her cheeks neither flushed nor blanched, her expression calm, her pose easy, her voice unfaltering. “Hercules be good to me!” cried Commodus. “That is a first class game sporting offer! I like you, girl! I like the idea. I see my way to a decision. I glimpse a method of banishing my hesitation. I’ll take you. If you agree, clasp hands, like a man.” Brinnaria stood up and put out her hand. “For life or death,” said the Emperor. They clasped hands. “Done!” said Commodus. CHAPTER XXI - ORDEAL