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Updated: May 17, 2025
"Yes," Flexinna replied, a bright tear in each eye. "She couldn't live forever," Brinnaria said. "She was ninety-four, wasn't she?" "Ninety-four years and eight months yesterday," Flexinna replied. She had been Chief Vestal longer than any ever and she had lived longer than any Vestal ever."
Hours passed, long hours passed and nothing was said on the subject. From none of her sister Vestals did she hear a word of reproach, not one of them behaved towards her any differently from what was usual. Finally one of the maids enlightened Brinnaria. Promptly she sought a private audience with Causidiena.
I am going to bring you news of him daily, whether you think you want it or not, and you are going to listen to me because I tell you to." Brinnaria, for once in her life, was submissive and silent. Not many days later the Pontiff greeted her with a contented smile. "Almo," he said, "is now practically recovered. He is well enough to have enjoyed brief visits from several of his former cronies.
During the latter months of Bambilio's oversight Brinnaria had felt restive and as if some inward force was forever driving her to feverish activities; under the care of Lutorius she became placid and thought less of her stock-raising, journeys to and fro to her estates, talks with grooms and such like activitie and devoted herself with more cool ardor to her duties.
THE darkness of the night, the impenetrability of the fog and the weariness of the bearers all contributed to impede their return journey. While on her way and buoyed up by her wild purpose, Brinnaria had been able to rest herself by dozing along the roadway and had remembered to keep up her strength with food and wine.
"That was in a sense unforgivable. Had I been in Rome at the time I must have animadverted upon it with the greatest severity." "If you had been in Rome at the time," spoke Brinnaria boldly, "I should not have been flogged by any mere deputy Pontifex of Vesta. It would have been incumbent upon you, as Pontifex Maximus, yourself to give me my ceremonial scourging.
"I," said Commodus in a loud voice, "as Emperor and as Pontifex Maximus, here certify before all men that the water now supported by the web of that sieve is enough to demonstrate the favor of Vesta towards you and your impeccable integrity." "Back away," said Brinnaria, "I'm going to stand up."
"But I want you to release me from my promise in one small detail. I want to be present at Vocco's to see you two break and eat the old-fashioned cake, and I want to be first to sign your marriage register. I promise to leave as soon as I have signed the register." Brinnaria, of course, could not but acquiesce. "Good for you!" said the Emperor, "and thank you too.
To have every legacy c-c-cadger in Rome running after you and m-m-making you p-p-presents and d-d-doing you favors and angling for your n-n-notice all your 1-l-life 1-1-long, and you m-m-miss the ch-ch-chance!" "Yes," Brinnaria admitted, reflectively, "I have missed all that, that's so. But that's not all there is to think of, when you think about being a Vestal.
But the great pestilence, for two centuries afterwards spoken of merely as "the pestilence," fell in the nine hundred and nineteenth year after the founding of Rome, the year 166 of our era, when Marcus Aurelius and Lucius Verus had been co-Emperors for a little more than five years and Brinnaria had been almost five years a Vestal.
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