The praetor's visit had filled him with disquietude, and had added to the
dislike he felt for him. He knew that he had been used to base ends by
Verus, for Hadrian had told him so much as that he had gone up to the
observatory not to question the stars for himself but to cast the
praetor's horoscope, and that he had informed Verus of his intention.

There was no excuse, no forgiveness possible for the deed he had done; to
please that dissolute coxcomb, that mocking hypocrite, he had become a
traitor to his master and an incendiary, and must endure to be
overwhelmed with praises and thanks by the greatest and most keen-sighted
of men. He hated, he abhorred himself, and asked himself why the fire
which had blazed around him had been satisfied only to inflict slight
injuries on his hands and hair. When Hadrian returned to him he asked
his permission to go to bed. The Emperor gladly granted it, ordered
Mastor to watch by his side, and then agreed to his wife's request that
he would visit her.

Sabina had not been to the scene of the fire, but she had sent a
messenger every hour to inquire as to the progress of the conflagration
and the well-being of her husband. When he had first arrived at the
Caesareum she had met and welcomed him and then had retired to her own
apartments.

It wanted only two hours of midnight when Hadrian entered her room; he
found her reclining on a couch without the jewels she usually wore in the
daytime but dressed as for a banquet.

"You wished to speak with me?" said the Emperor. "Yes, and this day--
so full of remarkable events as it has been--has also a remarkable close
since I have not wished in vain."