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Updated: May 20, 2025
Her self-possession did not desert her when she recognized in the train of the Pontifex her rejected suitor Calvaster, sly, malignant and with an air of suppressed elation. Faltonius Bambilio, the Pontifex of Vesta, was a pursy, pudgy, pompous old man, immensely self-important, almost ridiculous in his fussiness, but clothed with a certain impressiveness by the mere fact of his religious office.
Also my impulse is to make use of my prerogative, dismiss the accusation against you, reiterate Father's warning to Calvaster and get the whole thing off my mind. I don't like Calvaster and I don't value him an atom. They say he's indispensable, but if he irritates me ever so little more I'll dispense with him and I'll wager the Republic will get on without him.
I know of no other member of our hierarchy who has any similar interests, except Calvaster, whose haunting of the gladiatorial schools and association with trainers of gladiators has given some scandal. Some people would call your horse-breeding unseemly for a Vestal. But I see no harm in it.
Calvaster made sure of proving those facts, for he had two highly respectable and respected nobles to swear that they were with him and saw Vocco and the litter and knew the litter for Nemestronia's. That he had any number of witnesses to swear to the frequency of your visits to Vocco's house, your habit of dining there and the freedom with which you treated him.
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