Читать книгу No. XIII; or, The Story of the Lost Vestal онлайн

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Ebba was a large, strongly-built maiden of some eighteen or twenty years. She had been born a slave in the Roman’s household, and had never known any other life. Her complexion was florid, and her hair the richest auburn. She wore the badge of her master on her arm; and her dress was of woollen material, girt in at the waist by a band, but falling loosely to her ankles.

Ebba was skilful and clever, and was a favourite with her mistress, who had many attendants, but always gave Ebba the preference. Time had been when Ebba had been foremost in providing amusement, for she could dance to the tambourine, and her broad face was generally lighted by a smile.

She was quick in arranging flowers, in plaiting her lady’s hair, and weaving into it coins and gold ornaments with a skill which few could rival.

Of late a change had passed over her, and instead of a merry girl, who had a light jest and a sally for every one, she was a grave, sad woman, often speaking to herself in low tones, and taking no part in the festive revelries of Severus’s household. The child Hyacintha was, even at eleven years old, most unusually beautiful. She was born of a patrician race on both sides, and fulfilled all the conditions of her noble birth in her form and features. Her figure, even now, when childhood was passing into girlhood, was lithe and supple, and the Roman maiden developed early, for fourteen was considered as the entrance into womanhood.