“Strange fellow,” muttered Flaccus, while Drusus started off in his litter.  “I always consider the dowry the principal part of a marriage.”

II

Drusus regained his litter, and ordered his bearers to take him to the house of the Vestals,—­back of the Temple of Vesta,—­where he wished to see his aunt Fabia and Livia, his little half-sister.  The Temple itself—­a small, round structure, with columns, a conical roof which was fringed about with dragons and surmounted by a statue—­still showed signs of the fire, which, in 210 B.C., would have destroyed it but for thirteen slaves, who won their liberty by checking the blaze.  Tradition had it that here the holy Numa had built the hut which contained the hearth-fire of Rome,—­the divine spark which now shed its radiance over the nations.  Back of the Temple was the House of the Vestals, a structure with a plain exterior, differing little from the ordinary private dwellings.  Here Drusus had his litter set down for a second time, and notified the porter that he would be glad to see his aunt and sister.  The young man was ushered into a spacious, handsomely furnished and decorated atrium, where were arranged lines of statues of the various maximae[48] of the little religious order.  A shy young girl with a white dress and fillet, who was reading in the apartment, slipped noiselessly out, as the young man entered; for the novices were kept under strict control, with few liberties, until their elder sisters could trust them in male society.  Then there was a rustle of robes and ribbons, and in came a tall, stately lady, also in pure white, and a little girl of about five, who shrank coyly back when Drusus called her his “Liviola"[49] and tried to catch her in his arms.  But the lady embraced him, and kissed him, and asked a thousand things about him, as tenderly as if she had been his mother.

  [48] Senior Vestals.

  [49] A diminutive of endearment.

Fabia the Vestal was now about thirty-seven years of age.  One and thirty years before had the Pontifex Maximus chosen her out—­a little girl—­to become the priestess of Vesta, the hearth-goddess, the home-goddess of Pagan Rome.  Fabia had dwelt almost all her life in the house of the Vestals.  Her very existence had become identified with the little sisterhood, which she and her five associates composed.  It was a rather isolated yet singularly pure and peaceful life which she had led.  Revolutions might rock the city and Empire; Marians and Sullians contend; Catilina plot ruin and destruction; Clodius and his ruffians terrorize the streets; but the fire of the great hearth-goddess was never scattered, nor were its gentle ministers molested.  Fabia had thus grown to mature womanhood.  Ten years she had spent in learning the Temple ritual, ten years in performing the actual duties of the sacred fire and its cultus, ten years in teaching the young novices.  And now she was free, if she chose, to leave the Temple service, and even to marry.  But Fabia had no intention of taking a step which would tear her from the circle in which she was dearly loved, and which, though permitted by law, would be publicly deplored as an evil omen.