Thereupon preparations for departure were pushed and soon after sunrise on the next day Brinnaria found herself left to her own resources, responsible for the welfare of a large retinue of obsequious slaves, autocrat over them, and mistress of one of the largest private houses in Rome. She acquitted herself well of her duties. She had been right in claiming that she was loved by most and feared by the rest. Certainly she was trusted and respected by all as if she had been five times her age. She made them as comfortable as town-slaves could be and they knew it. To her they accorded instant and implicit obedience. The life of the household went on as smoothly as if the master had been at home. And its life was not gloomy. Although the main subject of conversation was the pestilence, open forebodings were not indulged in and the house was outwardly cheerful. Equally cheerful was Flexinna, whom Brinnaria saw daily. Neither of them had the slightest fear of the pestilence and no member of either household had shown the slightest symptoms of any kind of illness. Of the daily deaths among their large acquaintance or among the nobilities of the city, they talked calmly, without any feeling of gloom or of dread, secure in the confidence of youth and health. On the tenth day after Brinnaria had been left to her own devices Flexinna visited her as usual. Early in their talk she said: “D-D-Dossonia died last night.” “The Chief Vestal?” Brinnaria queried. “Yes,” Flexinna replied, a bright tear in each eye. “She couldn’t live forever,” Brinnaria said. “She was ninety-four, wasn’t she?” “Ninety-four years and eight months yesterday,” Flexinna replied. “She had been Chief Vestal ever since C-C-Calpurnia P-P-Praetextata died, and that’s fifty- six years ago. She had been Chief Vestal longer than any ever and she had lived longer than any Vestal ever.” “Well,” said Brinnaria, the practical, “she ought to have been glad to go, and she stone blind for twenty years.” “Yes, I know,” Flexinna rejoined, “but she was such an old d-d-dear, she looked so much younger than her age, her face so healthy and pink, and b-b-beautiful even with all its wrinkles, so calm and placid and holy I loved to look at her sitting in her big chair like a great white b-b-butterfly, so plump and handsome and soft-looking. She always put out her hand to my face and recognized me at the first t-t-touch, almost, and gave me her blessing so b-b-beautifully. Sometimes Manlia let me read to the old dear, and she always seemed to enjoy it so much. I’m real shaken at her d-d-death. I really loved her.” “Everybody loved her,” Brinnaria declared. “But everybody loves Causidiena too, and she’s Chief Vestal now. She’s not fat and placid like Dossonia, but she is wonderfully dignified. My, I admire that woman!” “I wonder,” Flexinna reflected, “who will be chosen in her p-p-place.”