that I drives dull care away, we owe to my
sister."

"I will come," said Pontius, "if my guest leaves me an hour free, and I
shall enjoy the excellent dish. But what does a gay bird like you know of
dull care?"

"The words fit into the metre," replied Pollux. "I inherit from my
father--who, when he is not gate-keeping, sings and recites--a
troublesome tendency whenever anything incites me to drift into rhythm."

"But to-day you have been more silent than usual, and yet you seemed to
me to be extraordinarily content. Not your face only, but your whole
length--a good measure--from the sole of your foot to the crown of your
head was like a brimming cask of satisfaction."

"Well, there is much that is lovely in this world!" cried Pollux,
stretching himself comfortably and lifting his arms with his hands
clasped far above his head towards heaven.

"Has anything specially pleasant happened to you?"

"There is no need for that! Here I live in excellent company, the work
progresses, and--well, why should I deny it? There was something
specially to mark to-day; I met an old acquaintance again."

"An old one?"

"I have already known her sixteen years; but when I first saw her she was
in swaddling clothes."

"Then this venerable damsel friend is more than sixteen, perhaps
seventeen! Is Eros the friend of the happy, or does happiness only follow
in his train?" As the architect thoughtfully said these words to himself,
Pollux listened attentively to a noise outside, and said:

"Who can be passing out there at this hour? Do you not hear the bark of a
big dog mingle with the snapping of the three Graces?"

"It is Titianus conducting the architect from Rome," replied Pontius
excitedly.

"I will go to meet him. But one thing more my friend, you too have an
Alexandrian tongue. Beware of laughing at the Emperor's artistic efforts
in the presence of this Roman. I repeat it: the man who is now coming is
superior to us all, and there is nothing more repellant to me than when a
small man assumes a strutting air of importance because he fancies he has
discovered in some great man a weak spot where his own little body
happens to be sound. The artist I am expecting is a grand man, but the
Emperor Hadrian is a grander. Now retire behind your screens, and
tomorrow morning I will be your guest."

CHAPTER XI.

Pontius threw his pallium over the chiton he commonly wore at his work
and went forward to meet the sovereign of the