“I have and I shall,” Brinnaria maintained mutinously. “Are you fit in mind and in faculties to be a Vestal?” he continued. “Fit to be Flaminica or Empress,” Brinnaria responded. “Are you pure?” came the next query. “As when I was born,” said Brinnaria emphatically. “What is your age?” the Pontifex queried his victim. “I’ll be ten on the Ides of next September,” quoth his victim. “Are your parents both alive?” he asked. “They were the last time I heard of them,” spoke Brinnaria flippantly. “When was that?” he insisted. “This is the twelfth day since they left Rome,” said Brinnaria, “and I’ve not heard from them since they sent a messenger back from the ninth milestone on the road to Tibur.” Faltonius was irritating her more and more, and she added: “They may both be dead by this time, for all I know.” “This will not do,” spoke Faltonius. “We must be sure that they are both alive.” “Find out,” snapped Brinnaria. Up spoke young Calvaster, his pasty face alight with a sort of malicious glee. “I passed Quartilla’s travelling carriage at Varia last night. Quartilla was alive and well. I passed Brinnarius this morning at dawn, this side of Tibur. He was alive then and puffing.” “How did you get here ahead of him?” Brinnaria interjected. “I am light built,” Calvaster explained with obvious relish, “and I rode the best horse in Italy. His mount labored heavily under his load.” “Both parents are then alive,” spoke Faltonius. “I hereupon and hereby pronounce you in all respects fit to be taken as a Vestal. Are you willing?” “Not I!” Brinnaria fairly shouted. “Not willing!” Faltonius cried, incredulous. “Not a fibre of me!” she proclaimed emphatically. “Wretched girl!” expostulated the Pontiff. “Have you no sense of patriotism? Do you not realize your duty to your country, to the Roman people, to Rome, to the Emperor, to all of us, to the commonwealth? Do you not realize Rome’s need of you? Shall it be said that Rome has need of one of her daughters and that her unnatural child refuses?” “I have not refused,” said Brinnaria. “I only said I was unwilling.” “It is the same thing,” declared the bewildered ecclesiastic. “Not a bit the same thing,” Brinnaria disclaimed. “I know my duty in this matter perfectly. Castor be good to me, I know it too well. I know that a refusal would avail me nothing, if I did refuse. I have not refused. I would not, even if I could escape by refusal I realize my duty. If I am taken I shall be all that a Vestal is expected to be, all that she must be to ensure the glory and prosperity and safety of the city and the Empire. I shall not fail the Emperor nor the Roman people, nor Rome. But I am unwilling, and I said so. Little good it will do me. But I am no liar, not even in the tightest place.” “Stand up, my daughter,” said Faltonius, rising himself, suddenly clothed in dignity, a really impressive figure, in spite of his globular proportions.