Critical as was her situation, Fabia could not refrain from a sense of humour, when she saw and heard this creature—­the last intimate she would select in the world—­pressing his suit with such genuine passion.  When she answered, an exasperating smile was on her lips.

“By Castor!” she replied, “the noble Gabinius is not a bad tragedian.  If he has nothing further to inform me than that I am favoured by his good graces, I can only decline his proposals with humble firmness, and depart.”

“By the immortal gods!” cried Gabinius, feeling that he and not his would-be victim were like to go into a frenzy, “you shan’t go!  I have you here.  And here you shall remain until I have your word that you will quit the Temple service and fly with me to Egypt.  If you won’t have me as your slave, I’ll have you as your master!” And again he advanced.

“What restrains me here?” queried Fabia, sternly, the blood sinking from her cheeks, but by step or by glance quailing not in the least.  “Who dare restrain or offer harm to a Vestal of the Roman Republic?”

“I!” shouted Gabinius in mad defiance, with a menacing gesture.

Fabia took a step toward him, and instinctively he fell back.

“You?” she repeated, her black eyes, ablaze with the fire of a holy indignation, searching Gabinius’s impure heart through and through.  “You, little man?  Are you fond of death, and yet lack courage to drink the poison yourself?”

“I dare anything!” cried Gabinius, getting more and more uncontrolled.  “This is my house.  These are my slaves.  The high walls will cut off any screams you may utter in this court.  I have you in my power.  You have placed yourself in my hands by coming here.  Refuse to do as I say, and a charge will be laid against you before the pontifices,[109] that you have broken the vow which binds every Vestal.  All the appearances will be against you, and you know what will follow then!”

  [109] College of chief priests.

Fabia grew a shade paler, if it were possible, than before.

“I know,” she replied, still very gently, “that an unfaithful Vestal is buried alive in the Campus Sceleratus; but I know, too, that her seducer is beaten to death with rods.  Accuse me, or attack me, and whatever be my fate, I can say that which will send your black soul down to Tartarus with guilt enough for Minos to punish.  Your delicately anointed skin would be sadly bruised by the stripes falling upon it.  And now, if these creatures will stand one side, I will leave you.”

And Fabia drew her mantle about her, and walked straight past the awestruck slaves into the atrium, where she unbolted the door and passed out.  Gabinius stood gazing after her, half-fascinated, half-dazed.  Only when the door closed did he burst out to one of the slaves:—­

“Timid dog, why did you let her escape?”

“Dominus,” whimpered the menial, “why did you let her escape?”