ad, by the hope of visionary happiness in another world which
perhaps only exists in the fancy of those who believe in it."

"I should wish that life might end with death," said Antinous
thoughtfully; "and yet--"

"Well?"

"If I were sure that in that other world I should find those I long to
see again, then I might long for a future life."

"And would you really like, throughout all eternity, to push and
struggle in the crowd of old acquaintances which death does not diminish
but rather multiplies?"

"Nay, not that--but I should like to be permitted to live for ever with
a few chosen friends."

"And should I be one of them?"

"Yes--indeed," cried Antinous warmly and pressing his lips to Hadrian's
hand.

"I was sure of it--but even with the promise of never being obliged to
part with you my darling, I would never sacrifice the only privilege
which man enjoys above the immortals."

"What privilege can you mean?"

"The right of withdrawing from the ranks of the living as soon as
annihilation seems more endurable than existence and I choose to call
death to release me."

"The gods, it is true, cannot die."

"And the Christians only to link a new life on to death."

"But a fairer and a happier than this on earth. They say it is a life of
bliss. But the mother of this everlasting life is the ineradicable love
of existence in even the most wretched of our race, and hope is its
father. They believe in a complete freedom from suffering in that other
world because He whom they call their Redeemer, the crucified Christ,
has saved them from all sufferings by His death."

"And can a man take upon him the sufferings of others, think you, like a
garment or a burden?"

"They say so, and my friend from Athens is quite convinced. In books of
magic there are many formulas by which misfortunes may be transferred
not merely from men to beasts, but from one human being to another. Very
remarkable experiments have even been carried out with slaves, and to
this day I have to struggle in several, provinces to suppress human
sacrifices by which the gods are to be reconciled or propitiated. Only
think of the innocent Iphigenia who was dragged to the altar; did not
the gulf in the Forum close when Curtius had leaped into it? When Fate
shoots a fatal arrow at you and I receive it in my breast, perhaps she
is content with the chance victim and does not enquire as to whom she
has hit."

"The gods would be exorbitant indeed if t