"From that accursed Antioch--whence nothing good has ever come to me--
I have received the saying of an oracle which foretells that, that--why
should I hide it from you--in the middle of the year now about to begin
some dreadful misfortune shall fall upon me, as lightning strikes the
traveller to the earth; and tonight--look here. Here is the house of
Death, here are the planets--but what do you know of such things? Last
night--the night in which once before such terrors were wrought, the
stars confirmed the fatal oracle with as much naked plainness, as much
unmistakable certainty as if they had tongues to shout the evil forecast
in my ear. It is hard to walk on with such a goal in prospect. What may
not the new year bring in its course?"

Hadrian sighed deeply, but Antinous went close up to him, fell on his
knees before him and asked in a tone of childlike humility:

"May I, a poor foolish lad, teach a great and wise man how to enrich his
life with six happy months?" The Emperor smiled, as though he knew what
was coming, but his favorite felt encouraged to proceed.

"Leave the future to the future," he said. "What must come will come,
for the gods themselves have no power against Fate. When evil is
approaching it casts its black shadow before it; you fix your gaze on it
and let it darken the light of day. I saunter dreamily on my way and
never see misfortune till it runs up against me and falls upon me
unawares--"

"And so you are spared many a gloomy day," interrupted Hadrian.

"That is just what I would have said."