Pontius threw his pallium over the chiton he commonly wore at his work
and went forward to meet the sovereign of the world, whose arrival had
been announced to him in the prefect's letter. He was perfectly calm,
and if his heart beat a little faster than usual, it was only because he
was pleased once more to meet the wonderful man whose personality had
made a deep impression on him before.
In the happy consciousness of having done all that lay in his power and
of deserving no blame, he went through the ante-chambers and chief
entrance of the palace into the fore-court, where a crowd of slaves were
busied by torch-light in laying new marble slabs. Neither these workmen
nor their overseers had paid any heed to the barking of the dogs and the
loud talking which had for some little time been audible in the vicinity
of the gate-keeper's lodge; for a special rate of payment had been
promised to the laborers and their foremen if they should have finished a
set piece of the new pavement by a certain hour, to the satisfaction of
the architect. No one who heard the deep man's-voice ring through the
court from the doorway guessed to whom it belonged.
The Emperor had been delayed by adverse winds and had not run into the
harbor till a little before midnight.
Titianus, who was watching for him, he greeted as an old friend with
heartfelt warmth, and with him and Antinous he stepped into the prefect's
chariot, while Phlegon the secretary, Hermogenes his physician, and
Mastor with the luggage, among which were their campbeds, were to follow
in another vehicle. The harbor watchmen hastened to array themselves
indignantly to oppose the chariot, as it rolled noisily along the street,
and the huge dog that destroyed the peace of the night with its baying;
but as soon as they recognized Titianus they respectfully made way. The
gate-keeper and his wife, obedient to the prefect's warning, had remained
up, and as soon as the singer heard the chariot approaching which bore
the Emperor, he hastened to open the palace-gates. The broken-up
pavement and the swarms of men engaged in repairing it, obliged Titianus
and his companions to quit the chariot here and to pass close to the
little gate-house. Hadrian, whose observation nothing ever escaped which
came in his way and seemed worth noticing, stood still before Euphorion's
door and looked into the comfortable little room, with its decoration of
flowers and birds and the statue of Apollo; while dame Doris in her
newest garments, stood on the threshold to watch for the prefect. And
Titianus greeted her warmly, for he was wont whenever he came to Lochias
to exchange a few merry or wise words with her. The little dogs had
already crept into their basket, but as soon as they caught sight of a
strange dog they rushed past their mistress into the open air, and dame
Doris found herself obliged, while she returned the kindly greeting of
her patron, to shout at Euphrosyne, Thalia and Aglaia more than once by
their pretty names.
"Splendid, splendid!" cried Hadrian, pointing into the little house.
"An idyl, a perfect idyl. Who would have expected to find such a smiling
nook of peace in the most restless and busy town in the empire."
"I and Pontius were equally surprised at this little nest, and we
therefore left it untouched," said the prefect.
"Intelligent people understand each other, and I owe you thanks for
preserving this little home," answered the Emperor. "What an omen, what
a favorable, in every way favorable augury, it offers me. The Graces
receive me here into these old walls, Aglaia, Thalia and Euphrosyne!"
"Good luck to you, Master," old Doris called out to the prefect.
"We come late," said Hadrian.
"That does not matter," said the old woman. "Here at Lochias for the
last week we have quite forgotten to distinguish day from night, and a
blessing can never come too late."
"I have brought with me to-day an illustrious guest," said Titianus.
"The great Roman architect Claudius Venator. He only disembarked a few
minutes since."
"Then a draught of wine will do him good. We have in the house some good
white Mareotic from my daughter's garden by the lake. If your friend
will do us humble folks so much honor, I beg he will step into our room;
it is clean, is it not sir? and the cup I will give him to drink it out
of would not disgrace the Emperor himself. Who knows what you will find
up in the midst of all the muddle yonder?"
"I will accept your invitation with pleasure," answered Hadrian. "I can
see by your face that you have a pleasure in entertaining us, and any one
might envy you your little house."
"When the climbing-rose and the honey-suckle are out it is much
prettier," said Doris, as she filled the cup. "Here is some water for
mixing."
The Emperor took the cup carved by Pollux, looked at it with admiration,
and before putting it to his lips said:
"A masterpiece, dame; what would Caesar find to drink out of here where
the gate-keeper uses such a treasure? Who executed this admirable work,
pray?"
"My son carved it for me in his spare time."
"He is a highly-skilled sculptor," Titianus explained.
When the Emperor had half emptied the cup with much satisfaction he set
it on the table, and said:
"A very noble drink! I thank you, mother."
"And I you, for styling me mother: there is no better title a woman can
have who has brought up good children; and I have three who need never be
ashamed to be seen."
"I wish you all luck with them, good little mother," replied the Emperor.
"We shall meet again, for I am going to spend some days at Lochias."
"Now, in all this bustle?" asked Doris.
"This great architect," said Titianus, in explanation, "is to advise and
help our Pontius."
"He needs no help!" cried the old woman. "He is a man of the best
stamp. His foresight and energy, my son says, are incomparable. I have
seen him giving his orders myself, and I know a man when I see him!"
"And what particularly pleased you in him?" asked Hadrian, who was much
amused with the shrewd old woman's freedom.
"He never for a moment loses his temper in all the hurry, never speaks a
word too much or too little; he can be stern when it is necessary, but he
is kind to his inferiors. What his merits are as an artist I am not
capable of judging, but I am quite certain that he is a just and able
man."
"I know him myself," replied Caesar, "and you describe him rightly; but
he seemed to me sterner than he has shown himself to you."
"Being a man he must be able to be severe; but he is so only when it is.
necessary, and how kind he can be he shows himself every day. A man
grows to the mould of his own mind when he is a great deal alone; and
this I have noticed, that a man who is repellant and sharp to those
beneath him is not in himself anything really great; for it shows that he
considers it necessary to guard against the danger of being looked upon
as of no more consequence than the poorer folks he deals with. Now, a
man of real worth knows that it can be seen in his bearing, even when he
treats one of us as an equal. Pontius does so, and Titianus, and you who
are his friend, no less. It is a good thing that you should have come--
but, as I said before, the architect up there can do very well without
you."
"You do not seem to rate my capacity very highly, and I regret it, for
you have lived with your eyes open and have learned to judge men keenly."
Doris looked shrewdly at the Emperor with her kindly glance, as if taking
his mental measure, and then answered confidently:
"You--you are a great man too--it is quite possible that you might see
things that would escape Pontius. There are a few choice souls whom the
Muses particularly love and you are one of them."
"What leads you to suppose so?"
"I see it in your gaze--in your brow."
"You have the gift of divination, then?"
"No, I am not one of that sort; but I am the mother of two sons on whom
also the Immortals have bestowed the special gift, which I cannot exactly
describe. It was in them I first saw it, and wherever I have met with it
since in other men and artists--they have been the elect of their circle.
And you too--I could swear to it, that you are foremost of the men among
whom you live."
"Do not swear lightly," laughed the Emperor. "We will meet and talk
together again little mother, and when I depart I will ask you again
whether you have not been deceived in me. Come now, Telemachus, the
dame's birds seem to delight you very much."
These words were addressed to Antinous, who had been going from cage to
cage contemplating the feathered pets, all sleeping snugly, with much
curiosity and pleasure.
"Is that your son?" asked Doris.
"No, dame, he is only my pupil; but I feel as if he were my son."
"He is a beautiful lad!"
"Why, the old lady still looks after the young men!"
"We do not give that up till we are a hundred or till the Parcae cut the
thread of life."
"What a confession!"
"Let me finish my speech.--We never cease to take pleasure in seeing a
handsome young fellow, but so long as we are young we ask ourselves what
he may have in store for us, and as we grow old we are perfectly
satisfied to be able to show him kindness. Listen young master. You
will always find me here if you want anything in which I can serve you.
I am like a snail and very rarely leave my shell."
"Till our next meeting," cried Hadrian, and he and his companions went
out into the court.
There the difficulty was to find a footing on the disjointed pavement.
Titianus went on in front of the Emperor and Antinous, and so but few
words of friendly pleasure could be exchanged by the monarch and his
vicegerent on the occasion of their meeting again. Hadrian stepped
cautiously forward, his face wearing meanwhile a satisfied smile. The
verdict passed by the simple shrewd woman of the people had given him far
greater pleasure than the turgid verse in which Mesomedes and his
compeers were wont to sing his praises, or the flattering speeches with
which he was loaded by the sophists and rhetoricians.
The old woman had taken him for no more than an artist; she could not
know who he was, and yet she had recognized--or had Titianus been
indiscreet? Did she know or suspect whom she was talking to? Hadrian's
deeply suspicious nature was more and more roused; he began to fancy that
the gate-keeper's wife had learnt her speech by heart, and that her
welcome had been preconcerted; he suddenly paused and desired the prefect
to wait for him, and Antinous to remain behind with the clog. He turned
round, retraced his steps to the gatehouse and slipped close up to it in
a very unprincely way. He stood still by the door of the little house
which was still open, and listened to the conversation between Doris and
her husband.
"A fine tall man," said Euphorion, "he is a little like the Emperor."
"Not a bit," replied Doris. "Only think of the full-length statue of
Hadrian in the garden of the Paneum; it has a dissatisfied satirical
expression, and the architect has a grave brow, it is true, but pure
friendly kindness lights up his features. It is only the beard that
reminds you of the one when you look at the other. Hadrian might be very
glad if he were like the prefect's guest."
"Yes, he is handsomer--how shall I say it--more like the gods than that
cold marble figure," Euphorion declared. "A grand noble, he is no doubt,
but still an artist too; I wonder whether he could be induced by Pontius
or Papias or Aristeas or one of the great painters to take the part of
Calchas the soothsayer in our group at the festival? He would perform it
in quite another way than that dry stick Philemon the ivory carver. Hand
me my lute; I have already forgotten again the beginning of the last
verse. Oh! my wretched memory! Thank you."
Euphorion loudly struck the strings and sang in a voice that was still
tolerably sweet and very well trained:
"'Sabina hail! Oh Sabina!--Hail; victorious hail to the conquering
goddess Sabina!' If only Pollux were here he would remind me of the
right words. 'Hail; victorious hail, to the thousand-fold Sabina!'--That
is nonsense. 'Hail, hail! divine hail to thee O all-conquering Sabina.'
No it was not that either. If a crocodile would only swallow this Sabina
I would give him that hot cake in yonder dish with pleasure, for his
pudding. But stay--I have it. 'Hail, a thousand-fold hail to the
conquering goddess Sabina!'"
Hadrian had heard all he wanted; while Euphorion went on repeating his
line a score or more of times to impress it on his recalcitrant memory.
Caesar turned his back on the gate-house, and while he and his companions
picked their way not without difficulty through the workmen who squatted
here and there and everywhere on the ground, he clapped Titianus more
than once on his shoulder, and after he had been received and welcomed by
Pontius, he exclaimed:
"I bless my decision to come here now! I have had a good evening, a
quite delightful evening."
The Emperor had not felt so cheerful and free from care for years as on
this occasion, and when in spite of the late hour he found the workmen
still busy everywhere, and saw all that had already been restored in the
old palace and what was being done for its renovation, the restless man
could not resist expressing his satisfaction, and exclaimed to Antinous:
"Here we may see that even in our sordid times miracles may be wrought by
good-will, industry, and skill. Explain to me my good Pontius how you
were able to construct that enormous scaffold."