before sunrise."

"But still there were several hours between your going to sleep, and
waking up again," replied Pollux. "Ah, youth--youth!" exclaimed the
Emperor, and a satirical smile played upon his lips.

"Part Damon and Phyllis by iron doors, and they will find their way to
each other through the key-hole."

Euphorion looked seriously at his son, the architect shook his head and
refrained from further questions, but Hadrian rose from his couch,
dismissed Antinous and his secretary to bed, requested Titianus to go
home and to give his wife his kindly greetings, and then desired Pollux
to conduct him within this screen, since he himself was not tired and was
accustomed to do with only a few hours sleep.

The young sculptor was strongly attracted by this commanding personage.
It had not escaped him that the gray-bearded stranger greatly resembled
the Emperor; but Pontius had prepared him for the likeness, and in fact
there was much in the eyes and mouth of the Roman architect that he had
never traced in any portrait of Hadrian 'Imperator.' And as they stood
before his scarcely-finished statue his respect increased for the new
visitor to Lochias; for, with earnest frankness, he pointed out to him
certain faults, and while praising the merits of the rapidly-executed
figure he explained in a few brief and pithy phrases his own conception
of the ideal Urania. Then shortly but clearly, he stated his views as to
how the plastic artist must deal with the problems of his art.

The young man's heart beat faster, and more than once he turned hot and
cold by turns as he heard things uttered by the bearded lips of this
imposing man, in a rich voice and in lucid phrases, which he had often
divined or vaguely felt, but for which, while learning, observing, and
working, he had never sought expression in words. And how kindly the
great master took up his timid observations, how convincingly he answered
them. Such a man as this he had never met, never had he bowed with such
full consent before the superiority and sovereign power of another mind.

The second hour after midnight had begun, when Hadrian, standing before
the rough-cast clay bust, asked Pollux:

"What is this to be?"

"A portrait of a girl."

"Probably of the complaisant model who ventures into Lochias at night?"

"No; a lady of rank will sit to me."

"An Alexandrian?"

"Oh, no. A beauty in the train of the Empress."

"What is her name? I know all the Roman