t have taken place on any more
fortunate day, or, to be more exact, if he had been in a calmer frame of
mind; he himself alone was in fault, he alone, and no spiteful accident,
nor malicious and tricky Daimon. Hadrian, to be sure, attributed to
these sprites all that he had done, and so considered it irremediable;
an excellent way, no doubt, of exonerating oneself from a burdensome
duty, or from repairing some injustice, but conscience is a register in
which a mysterious hand inexorably enters every one of our deeds, and
in which all that we do is ruthlessly called by its true name. We often
succeed, it is true, in effacing the record for a longer or a shorter
period, but often, again, the letters on the page shine with an uncanny
light, and force the inward eye to see them and to heed them.

On this particular night Hadrian felt himself compelled to read the
catalogue of his actions and among them he found many a sanguinary
crime, many a petty action unworthy of a far meaner soul than he; still
the record commemorated many duties strictly fulfilled, much honest
work, an unceasing struggle towards high aims, and an unwearied effort
to feel his way intellectually, to the most remote and exalted limits
possible to the human mind and comprehension.

In this hour Hadrian thought of none but his evil deeds, and vowed to
the gods--whom he mocked at with his philosophical friends, and to whom
he nevertheless addressed himself whenever he felt the insufficiency of
his own strength and means--to build a temple here, to offer a sacrifice
there, in order to expiate old crimes and divert their malice. He
felt like a great man must who is threatened with the disfavor of his
superiors, and who hopes to propitiate them with gifts. The haughty
Roman quailed at the thought of unknown dangers, but he was far from
feeling the wholesome pangs of repentance.

Hardly an hour since he had forgotten himself and had disgracefully
abused his power over a weaker creature, and now he was vexed at having
behaved so and not otherwise; but it never entered his head to humiliate
his pride or, by offering some compensation to the offended party,
tacitly to confess the injustice he had committed. Often he deeply
felt his human weakness, but he was quite capable of believing in the
sacredness of his imperial person, and this he always found most easy
when he had trodden under foot some one who had been rash enough to
insult him, or not to acknowledge h