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I'm not your little girl any more; I don't count as your daughter; you don't count as my father; I'm daughter to the Pontifex from now on. I'm a Vestal." She was trembling, but she kept her countenance. Brinnarius uttered no sound, the whole gathering was still and mute, the noises of the street outside were plainly audible. They heard horse-hoofs again, again the door flew open wide.
"I know," shouted Pulfennius, "I can tell you. It is because this whole comedy has been rehearsed between you just to make me ridiculous. I know your way, your malignity, your tenacity of a grudge, your pretence of reconciliation, your ingenuity, your well-laid traps. I'll be revenged for this yet!" "You won't live to be revenged," Brinnarius told him, "unless you get out of here quick.
Once they came to a deadlock and then Brinnarius, his voice suddenly mild and soft, mentioned Rabulla's death and his notion of offering Brinnaria for her successor. At once Pulfennius became manageable and supple and all eagerness for the happiness of the young couple. When it seemed that they had reached an agreement on every point Quartilla had her say.
As her elders stood still, petrified, mute and motionless with amazement, she imprinted a loud smack on the lad's lips, laid her cheek roguishly to his and peered archly at them, saying: "Glad to see you again, Pulfennius; what do you think of me for a daughter-in-law?" "I do not think of you for a daughter-in-law," Pulfennius snarled furiously. He turned angrily to Brinnarius.
"And remember," he continued sternly, "that you are now a Vestal and that young Vestals may not speak unless spoken to." Brinnaria bit her lip. At that moment they heard hoofs and voices outside, the door burst open and Brinnarius entered. "Too late, Daddy!" cried Brinnaria. "You can't help me now.
I couldn't imagine any life so terrible. Oh, Daddy, please say you are not in earnest." He frowned. "I swear," he said, "that I was never more in earnest. I say it solemnly, as sure as my name is Marcus Brinnarius Epulo, I'll have you made a Vestal unless you agree this moment to give up all thoughts of Almo, to obey me about marrying Calvaster, and to be properly polite to him and Pulfennius."
"That is well," growled Brinnarius, "and I'll send my girl to her aunt Septima's." Brinnaria sprang up. "Aunt Septima's?" she cried. "Spinach and mallows and a tiny roast lark for dinner every day. I'll starve to death And prim! I'd almost as lief be a Vestal!" To her luxurious but austerely managed villa, Aunt Septima welcomed Brinnaria with heartfelt, if repressed affection.
"I beg your pardon!" spoke a voice behind them. The four looked around. "What brings you here, Segontius?" Brinnarius asked. "One of my slaves brought me word," the intruder explained, "that my son had entered this house. I knew you had not changed your mind since you forbade him to cross your threshold, so I came here at once to disclaim any share in his intrusion and to take him home.
And now it seems to me that we should make the young lady herself a party of this conference and bring the matter to a final settlement." Brinnarius called a slave and bade him fetch Brinnaria. Almost at once the fellow, a dark-skinned, obsequious Lydian, returned looking scared and yet on the verge of laughter.
Brinnarius knit his brows and looked at his wife. Her eyes answered his. "It would save a deal of trouble," he said, reflectively. "It would make a deal of gossip," Quartilla declared. "All my enemies would say that I am an unnatural mother, that I do not love my youngest child, that I hate her, that I am exposing her to certain death, that I am as bad as a murderess."
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