“Tell me plainly and outspokenly what has happened to you lately to fill your mind with thoughts of buried Vestals, trials, accusations and terrors?” Brinnaria thereupon related her encounter with Calvaster and her conversation with Flexinna. The Emperor stroked his beard and reflected. “I have never liked Calvaster,” he said, “and if I had been in the city to consider recommendations for appointments he would, assuredly, never have become a member of Rome’s hierarchy. I deem him gravely unsuited for even the most minor grade of Pontiff. He appears to me to be mean-spirited, narrow-minded and base. I am inclined to believe of him all that you impute. But, even to such as Calvaster, we should be just. You complained, a while ago, that the judges of the Vestals had ignored both the facts and the evidence. Let us weigh the evidence and stick to the facts. The only fact you present is that you caught Calvaster lurking in your house. You confess that you were completely puzzled as to what motive brought him there. Your friend surmises an explanation which disgusts, insults and alarms you. You instantly credit it completely, think and act as if it were unquestionably true. I am prejudiced against Calvaster, as I have told you, yet I am by no means ready to admit that your beliefs about him are evidence against him, more particularly as they rest solely on Flexinna’s ingenious conjectures. The notion is plausible and it is entirely congruent with Calvaster’s character as I imagine it. Yet it is, after all, merely a plausible surmise. I am just as inclined to accept Calvaster’s own explanation; he is an inquisitive busybody. “My verdict is that you need feel no alarm.” “But I do,” Brinnaria maintained; “I do not feel safe with Calvaster anywhere about.” The Emperor reflected. “The peace of mind of a Vestal,” he said, “is a matter of such importance to the state that I should not hesitate about ordering Calvaster banished to some comfortable and healthy island and there detained permanently, were it not that the fellow has made himself almost indispensable. The pestilence has carried off practically all the adepts at interpretation of the sacred writings, the prophetic books, the rubrics and rituals of the various temples, the statutes of the brotherhoods and other orders of the hierarchy. Only Numerius Aproniarius remains of the older experts, and he is afflicted by an incurable and loathsome disease which he cannot long survive. Of the younger men only Calvaster has displayed any aptitude for learning this delicate and complex art, only he has attained any reputation. He is, in the circumstances, indispensable, I cannot banish him merely to please you. You will have to endure Calvaster.” Brinnaria pulled a wry face, as in her mutinous girlhood. She felt entirely at ease with Aurelius. “I perceive that I must endure him,” she said, “but if you cannot banish Calvaster, perhaps you’ll oblige me by banishing Almo.”