spirit which never let him see or think the right thing till it was too
late. His first deceit had already involved him in a second.

He hated himself; he hit his forehead with his fists and sobbed aloud
bitterly again and again, though he shed no tears. Still, in the midst
of his self-accusation, the flattering voice made itself heard in his
soul: "It is only to preserve your master from sorrow, and it is nothing
wrong that you are asked to do." And each time that his inward ear heard
these words he began to puzzle his brain to discover in what way it might
be possible for him to tempt the Emperor, at the hour named, down from
his watch-tower in the palace. But he could hit on no practicable plan.

"It cannot be done, no--it cannot be done!" he muttered to himself and
then he asked himself if it were not even his duty to defy the praetor
and to confess to Hadrian that he had deceived him in the morning. If
only it had not been for the little bottle! Could he ever confess that
he had heedlessly parted with this gift of all others from his master?
No, it was too hard, it might cost him his sovereign's affection for
ever. And if he contented himself with a half-truth and confessed,
merely to anticipate the praetor's accusation, that Selene was still
living, then he would involve the daughters of the hapless Keraunus in
persecution and disgrace Selene whom he loved with all the devotion of a
first passion, which was enhanced and increased by the hindrances that
had come in its way. It was impossible to confess his guilt-quite
impossible. The longer he thought, tormenting himself to find some way
out of it all, the more confused he became, and the more impotent his
efforts at resistance. The praetor had entangled him with thongs and
meshes, and at every struggle to escape they only seemed knotted more
closely round him.