which Hadrian, in the purest Attic Greek, had succeeded in driving his
opponents into a corner had excited the greatest admiration. The
Sovereign had quitted the famous institution with a promise to reopen the
contest at an early date. The philosophers, Pancrates and Dionysius and
Apollonius, who took no wine at all, were giving a detailed account of
the different phases of this remarkable disputation and praising the
admirable memory and the ready tongue of the great monarch.

"And you did not even see him at his best," exclaimed Favorinus, the
Gaul, the sophist and rhetorician. "He has received an unfavorable
oracle and the stars seem to confirm the prophecy. This puts him out
of tune. Between ourselves let me tell you I know a few who are his
superiors in dialectic, but in his happiest moments he is irresistible-
irresistible. Since we made up our quarrel he is like a brother to me.
I will defend him against all comers, for, as I say, Hadrian is my
brother."

The Gaul had poured out this speech in a defiant tone and with flashing
eyes. He grew pale in his cups, touchy, boastful and very talkative.

"No doubt you are right," replied Apollonius, "but it seemed to us that
he was bitter in discussion. His eyes are gloomy rather than gay."

"He is my brother," repeated Favorinus, "and as for his eyes, I have seen
them flash--by Hercules! like the radiant sun, or merry twinkling stars!
And his mouth! I know him well! He is my brother, and I will wager that
while he condescended--it is too comical--condescended to dispute with
you--with you, there was a sly smile at each corner of his mouth--so--
look now--like this he smiled."