h at once, and the sea is
very rough. The Empress will have a bad voyage."

"When did she set out?"

"The anchor was weighed towards midnight. The vessel which is to fetch
her to Alexandria is a fine ship, but rolls from side to side in a very
unpleasant manner."

Hadrian laughed loudly and sharply at this, and said:

"That will turn her heart and her stomach upside down. I wish I were
there to see--but no, by all the gods, no! for she will certainly forget
to paint this morning; and who will construct that edifice of hair if
all her ladies share her fate. We will stay here to-day, for if I meet
her soon after she has reached Alexandria she will be undiluted gall and
vinegar."

With these words Hadrian rose from his couch, and waving his hand to
Antinous, went out of the tent with his secretary.

A third person standing at the back of the tent had heard the Emperor's
conversation with his favorite; this was Mastor, a Sarmatian of the race
of the Taryges. He was a slave, and no more worthy of heed than the dog
which had followed Hadrian, or than the pillows on which the Emperor had
been reclining. The man, who was handsome and well grown, stood for
some time twisting the ends of his long red moustache, and stroking his
round, closely-cropped head with his bands; then he drew the open
chiton together over his broad breast, which seemed to gleam from the
remarkable whiteness of the skin. He never took his eyes off Antinous,
who had turned over, and covering his face with his hands had buried
them in the bear's hairy mane.

Mastor had something he wanted to say to him, but he dared not address
him for the young favorite's demeanor could not be reckoned on. Often
he was ready to listen to him and talk with him as a friend, but often,
too, he repulsed him more sharply than the haughtiest upstart would
repel the meanest of his servants. At last the slave took courage and
called the lad by his name, for it seemed less hard to submit to a
scolding than to smother the utterance of a strong, warm feeling,
unimportant as it might be, which was formed in words in his mind.
Antinous raised his head a little on his hands and asked:

"What is it?"

"I only wanted to tell you," replied the Sarmatian, "that I know who the
little girl was that you so often took upon your shoulders. It was your
little sister, was it not, of whom you were speaking to me lately?"

The lad nodded assent, and then once more buried his head in his h