Antinous had left the room with the Emperor. The praetor's remaining
behind had not escaped the lad's notice, but he sought to avoid him, for
the domineering, mocking spirit of Verus repelled him. Besides this the
terror which he had gone through, as well as the consciousness that he
had been guilty of a lie and had daringly deceived his kind master,
had upset a soul hitherto untainted by any subterfuge and had
thrown him off his balance. He longed to be alone, for it would have
been keenly painful to him at this moment to discuss indifferent
subjects, or to be forced to affect an easy demeanor. He sat in his
little room, before a table, with his face buried in his hands that
rested on it.

Verus did not immediately follow him, for he understood what was passing
in his mind and knew that here he could not escape him. In a few minutes
all was still alike in the large room and in the small one. Then the
praetor heard the door between the smaller room and the corridor hastily
opened and immediately the Bithynian's exclamation:

"At last, Mastor--have you seen Selene?"

With two long, noiseless steps Verus went close to the door leading into
the adjoining room, and listened for the slave's answer, though a less
sharp ear than that of the praetor might have heard every syllable.

"How should I have seen her?" asked the Sarmatian sharply. "She is still
suffering and in bed. I gave your flowers to the deformed girl who takes
care of her; but I will not do it again, you may rely upon it, not if you
coax even more fondly than you did yesterday and promise me all Caesar's
treasure into the bargain! And what can you want with that wretched,
pale-faced, innocent creature? I am but a poor slave, but I can tell you