her ladies share her fate. We will stay here to-day, for if I meet her
soon after she has reached Alexandria she will be undiluted gall and
vinegar."

With these words Hadrian rose from his couch, and waving his hand to
Antinous, went out of the tent with his secretary.

A third person standing at the back of the tent had heard the Emperor's
conversation with his favorite; this was Mastor, a Sarmatian of the race
of the Taryges. He was a slave, and no more worthy of heed than the dog
which had followed Hadrian, or than the pillows on which the Emperor had
been reclining. The man, who was handsome and well grown, stood for some
time twisting the ends of his long red moustache, and stroking his round,
closely-cropped head with his bands; then he drew the open chiton
together over his broad breast, which seemed to gleam from the remarkable
whiteness of the skin. He never took his eyes off Antinous, who had
turned over, and covering his face with his hands had buried them in the
bear's hairy mane.

Mastor had something he wanted to say to him, but he dared not address
him for the young favorite's demeanor could not be reckoned on. Often he
was ready to listen to him and talk with him as a friend, but often, too,
he repulsed him more sharply than the haughtiest upstart would repel the
meanest of his servants. At last the slave took courage and called the
lad by his name, for it seemed less hard to submit to a scolding than to
smother the utterance of a strong, warm feeling, unimportant as it might
be, which was formed in words in his mind. Antinous raised his head a
little on his hands and asked:

"What is it?"