wn in and bulged by the wind;
his bloodless lips were tightly set, his arms crossed over his breast,
and his eyes half closed. But he was not asleep, for he often opened his
mouth and smacked his lips, as if tasting the flavor of some viand.
From time to time he raised his eyelids--long, finely wrinkled, and
blue-veined--turning his eyes up to heaven or rolling them to one side
and then downwards towards the middle of the tent. There, on the skin
of a huge bear trimmed with blue cloth, lay Hadrian's favorite Antinous.
His beautiful head rested on that of the beast, which had been slain
by his sovereign, and its skull and skin skilfully preserved, his right
leg, supported on his left knee, he flourished freely in the air, and
his hands were caressing the Emperor's bloodhound, which had laid its
sage-looking head on the boy's broad, bare breast, and now and then
tried to lick his soft lips to show its affection. But this the youth
would not allow; he playfully held the beast's muzzle close with his
hands or wrapped its head in the end of his mantle, which had slipped
back from his shoulders.

The dog seemed to enjoy the game, but once when Antinous had drawn the
cloak more tightly round its head and it strove in vain to be free from
the cloth that impeded its breathing, it set up a loud howl, and this
doleful cry made the Emperor change his attitude and cast a glance of
displeasure at the boy lying on the bear-skin, but only a glance, not a
word of blame. And soon the expression, even of his eyes, changed, and
he fixed them on the lads's figure with a gaze of loving contemplation,
as though it were some noble work of art that he could never tire of
admiring. And truly the Immortals had moulded this child of man to such
a type; every muscle of that throat, that chest, those arms and legs was
a marvel of softness and of power; no human countenance could be more
regularly chiselled. Antinous observing that his master's attention had
been attracted to his play with the dog, let the animal go and turned
his large, but not very brilliant, eyes on the Emperor.

"What are you doing here?" asked Hadrian kindly.

"Nothing," said the boy.

"No one can do nothing. Even if we fancy we have succeeded in doing
nothing we still continue to think that we are unoccupied, and to think
is a good deal."

"But I cannot even think."

"Every one can think; besides you were not doing nothing, for you were
playing."

"Yes, with the dog."