ion, the sacred vessels would be broken or come to a base
use, the fire would go out and Vesta's hearth would be cold for ever.

At the mere thought, the sleeping face in the vision would tremble and
grow pale for a moment, but soon would smile again, for the fire had
been faithfully tended all the night long.

But it would all pass away, even the place, even Rome herself, and in
the sphere of divine joy the sleeper would forget even to dream, and
would be quite at rest, until the mid-hour of day, when a companion
would come softly to the door and wake her with gentle words and kindly
touch, to join the other Vestals at the thrice-purified table in the
cool hall.

So the warm hours would pass, and later, if she chose, the holy maiden
might go out into the city, whithersoever she would, borne in a high,
open litter by many slaves, with a stern lictor walking before her, and
the people would fall back on either side. If she chanced to meet one of
the Praetors, or even the Consul himself, their guards would salute her
as no sovereign would be saluted in Rome; and should she see some
wretched thieving slave being led to death on the cross upon the
Esquiline, her slightest word could reverse all his condemnation, and
blot out all his crimes. For she was sacred to the Goddess, and above
Consuls and Praetors and judges. But none of those things would touch her
heart nor please her vanity, for all her pure young soul was bent on
freedom from this earth, divine and eternal, as the end of a sinless
life.

The eyes in the dream, the eyes of the girl who stood by the column,
drinking the morning air, had never met the eyes of a man with the wish
that a glance might linger to a look. But she who watched the dream knew
that the time was at hand, and that the dark cloud of fear was already
gathering which was to darken her sun and break by and by in an unknown
fear. She knew it, she, the waking Cecilia Palladio; but the other
Cecilia, the Vestal of long ago, guessed nothing of the future, and
stood there breathing softly, already refreshed after the night's
watching. It would all happen, as it always happened, little by little,
detail after detail, till the dreaded moment.

But it did not. The dream changed. Instead of crossing the marble court,
and lingering a moment by the water, the Vestal stood by the column,
against the background of shade cast by the portico. She was listening
now, she was expecting some one, she was glanci