this--"

Here the Sarmatian broke off abruptly, and Verus rightly guessed that
Antinous had remembered his presence in the Emperor's room and had signed
to the slave to be silent.

But the listener had learnt enough. The favorite had told his master a
lie, and the suicide of the steward's daughter was a pure romance. Who
would have believed that the silent, dreamy lad had so much presence of
mind, and such cunning powers of invention? The praetor's handsome face
was radiant with satisfaction as he made these reflections, for now he
had the Bithynian under his thumb, and now he knew how to accomplish all
he wished. Antinous himself had indicated the right course when he had
hastened to the Emperor with a gush of tenderness, in which the warmth
was certainly not affected, to kiss his hand.

The favorite loved his master, and Verus could ground his demands on this
love without exposing himself, or having to dread the Emperor's avenging
hand in case of betrayal. He knocked at the door of the adjoining room
with a firm hand, and then went confidently and composedly up to the
Bithyman, told him that he had an important matter to discuss with him,
begged him to return with him into the Emperor's room and then said, as
soon as they were alone together:

"I am so unfortunate as not to be able to number you among my particular
friends; but one strong sentiment we have in common. We both love
Caesar."

"I love him, certainly," replied the lad.