at 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.

His head began to ache sadly; and what an endless time Caesar was absent!
He dreaded his return, and yet he longed for it. When at last Hadrian
came in and signed to Master to relieve him of his imperial robes,
Antinous slipped behind him, and silently and carefully fulfilled the
slave's office. He felt uneasy and worried, and yet he forced himself to
appear in good spirits during supper when he had to sit opposite the
Emperor.

When, shortly before midnight, Hadrian rose from the table to go up to
the watch-tower on the northern side of the palace, Antinous begged to be
allowed to carry his instruments for him, and the Emperor, stroking his
hair, said kindly:

"You are my dear and faithful companion. Youth has a right to go astray
now and then so long as it does not entirely forget the path in which it
ought to tread."

Antinous was deeply touched by these words, and he secretly pressed to
his lips a fold of the Emperor's toga as he walked in front. It was as
though he wanted to make amends in advance for the crime he h