Antinous gazed at his sovereign in astonishment; why should Phlegon's
objections make him so furious when he had answered his so kindly?

Hadrian paid no farther heed to him, but read the despatches one after
another, hastily but attentively, wrote brief notes on the margins,
signed a decree with a firm hand, and, when his work was finished desired
the Greek to leave him. Hardly was he alone with Antinous when the loud
cries and jovial shouting of a large multitude came to their ears through
the open window.

"What does this mean?" he asked Mastor, and as soon as he had been
informed that the workmen and slaves had just been let out to give
themselves up to the pleasures of their holiday, he muttered to himself:

"These creatures can riot, shout, dress themselves with garlands, forget
themselves in a debauch--and I, I whom all envy--I spoil my brief span of
life with vain labors, let myself be tormented with consuming cares--I--"
here he broke off and cried in quite an altered tone:

"Ha! ha! Antinous, you are wiser than I. Let us leave the future to the
future. The feast-day is ours too; let us take advantage of this day of
freedom. We too will throw ourselves into the holiday whirlpool
disguised, I as a satyr, and you as a young faun or something of the
kind; we will drain cups, wander round the city and enjoy all that is
enjoyable."

"Oh!" exclaimed Antinous, joyfully clapping his hands.

"Evoe Bacche!" cried Hadrian, tossing up his cup that stood on his table.