Part 5 (1/2)
”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 ever since C-C-Calpurnia P-P-Praetextata died, and that's fifty- six years ago. She had been Chief Vestal longer than any ever and she had lived longer than any Vestal ever.”
”Well,” said Brinnaria, the practical, ”she ought to have been glad to go, and she stone blind for twenty years.”
”Yes, I know,” Flexinna rejoined, ”but she was such an old d-d-dear, she looked so much younger than her age, her face so healthy and pink, and b-b-beautiful even with all its wrinkles, so calm and placid and holy I loved to look at her sitting in her big chair like a great white b-b-b.u.t.terfly, so plump and handsome and soft-looking. She always put out her hand to my face and recognized me at the first t-t-touch, almost, and gave me her blessing so b-b-beautifully. Sometimes Manlia let me read to the old dear, and she always seemed to enjoy it so much.
I'm real shaken at her d-d-death. I really loved her.”
”Everybody loved her,” Brinnaria declared. ”But everybody loves Causidiena too, and she's Chief Vestal now. She's not fat and placid like Dossonia, but she is wonderfully dignified. My, I admire that woman!”
”I wonder,” Flexinna reflected, ”who will be chosen in her p-p-place.”
”Poor wretch!” Brinnaria commented. ”I'm sorry for her, whoever she is.
Just think, she'll have to pair with that unspeakable little m.u.f.f of a Meffia. I hate that girl.”
”Whoever she is,” Flexinna continued, ”she is sure to be chosen and taken mighty quick. For with this p-p-pestilence in the city, and all the trouble the P-P-Parthians are making in the East, of the Marcomanni on the Rhine colonies, and the thunder-storms that have raged about lately, there'll be need felt for all the p-p-prayers all the offer.
They'll not leave the vacancy open long. I'll bet they have it filled by d-d-day after to-morrow. Old B-B-Bambilio is a stickler for pious precision an observance of all ritual matters and the Emperors are with him.”
”Marcus is,” Brinnaria agreed, pertly, ”but Lucius doesn't care what happens so long as he has his fun.”
”You mustn't t-t-t-talk that way about the Emperors,” Flexinna cautioned her. ”If you were overheard you'd get into no end of trouble. Anyhow, Verus defers to Aurelius in everything, so that whatever Aurelius wishes is as if both wished it. And there never was a more p-p-pious Emperor than Aurelius. So the place is certain to be filled p-p-promptly.”
”At once, for sure,” Brinnaria agreed. ”I wonder who the victim will be?
Do you suppose it will be Occurnea?”
”It would have been Occurnea, I think,” Flexinna said. ”You know it was a chance for a while whether she'd get it instead of Meffia. But she's not eligible now. Her mother d-d-died yesterday.”
”Tallentia, perhaps,” Brinnaria hazarded.
”Impossible,” Flexinna declared. ”You remember how recklessly she rode and how her horse f-f-fell on her. She has limped ever since and always will.”
”Cuppiena?” suggested Brinnaria.
”Not she,” said Flexinna; ”she has some k-k-kind of skin rash and has lost almost all her hair.”
”Sabbia,” Brinnaria proposed.
”Her mother's d-d-dead too,” Flexinna reminded her; ”has been for months.”
”Fremnia,” came the next suggestion.
”She's off to Aquileia with her family,” said Flexinna; ”they all left the d-d-day your folks went.”
”Eppia,” ventured Brinnaria.
”She's ten years old now,” Flexinna demurred. ”She celebrated her b-b-birthday three days before the Kalends. I was at the party.”
”Pennasia, perhaps,” Brinnaria suggested.