may not lead Amor and Hymen in his train. All
things come to them who wait. I wait. Remember the life you spend in
the Temple is no longer obligatory. Be no cage bird who will not fly
out into the sunlight when the door is opened freely. Be surprised and
angry at nothing. _Vale_."

There was no date, no signature. The hand was distorted, evidently for
disguise. Fabia was in a dilemma. She did not need to be told that in
all probability--though she had no proof--the writer was Gabinius. She
was extremely reluctant to tell any one of her escape from his
clutches in the villa by the Appian Way. However, some confidant
seemed necessary. She knew that Fonteia, the senior Vestal, the
Maxima, would never treat her other than as a sister, and to her she
read the letter and imparted her story and fears. Fonteia did not
regard the matter in a very serious light. She was herself an old
woman, grown grey in the service of Vesta. She said that Fabia had
been most fortunate to remain in the Temple service so long as she had
and not be harassed by more than one impious and overbold suitor. The
only thing to do was to be careful and avoid anything that would give
false appearances. As for Fabia's fears that Gabinius would attempt to
carry her away perforce, as he had perhaps treated earlier
sweethearts, Fonteia scoffed at the suggestion. The Atrium Vestae was
in the heart of the city; there was a constant patrol on duty. For a
man to enter the Building at night meant the death penalty. Whosoever
did violence to a Vestal fell under a religious curse; he was a _homo
sacer_, a "sacred man," a victim devoted to the gods, whom it was a
pious deed to slay. And thus comforted, with the assurance that the
whole power of the Republic would rise for her personal defence, Fabia
was fain to put the disquieting letter from her heart.

Then followed the night of panic, and the succeeding day. There were
no longer any magistrates in Rome. The great palaces of the patricians
stood deserted, exposed to the unfaithful guardianship of freedmen and
slaves. The bankers' booths were closed, the shops did not raise their
shutters. On the streets swarmed the irresponsible and the vicious.
Men of property who had not fled barred their doors and stood guard
with their servants to beat back would-be plunderers. There were no
watchmen at the gates, no courts sitting in the basilicas. After the
great flight of the early morning, Rome was a city without warders,