bors over the hearth. "My son, my unfortunate
Pollux!"

"Out of my way!" said Hadrian sternly.

"He is an artist, a good artist, who already excels many a master, and if
the gods--"

"Out of the way, I told you. I do not want to hear anything about the
insolent fellow," said Hadrian angrily.

"But Great Caesar, he is my son, and a mother, as you know--"

"Mastor," interrupted the monarch, "carry away this old woman and make
way for me."

"Oh! my lord, my lord!" wailed the agonized woman while the slave pulled
her up, not without difficulty. "Oh! my lord, how can you find it in your
heart to be so cruel? And am I no longer old Doris whom you have even
joked with, and whose food you have eaten?"

These words recalled to the Emperor's fancy the moment of his arrival at
Lochias; he felt that he was somewhat in the old woman's debt, and being
wont to pay with royal liberality he broke in with:

"You shall be paid for your excellent dish a sum with which you can
purchase a new house, for the future your maintenance too shall be
provided for, but in three hours you must have quitted Lochias."

The Emperor spoke rapidly as though desirous of bringing a disagreeable
business to a prompt termination, and he stalked past Doris who was now
standing on her feet and leaning as if stunned against the doorpost.
Indeed if Hadrian had not left her there and had he been in the mood to
hear her farther, she was not now in a fit state to answer him another
word.

The Emperor received the honors due to Zeus and his fiat had ruined the
happiness of a contented home as completely as the thunderbolt wielded by
the Father of the gods could have done.

But this time Doris had no tears. The frightful shock that had fallen in
her soul was perceptible also to her body; her knees shook, and being
quite incapable just then of going home at once, she sunk upon a seat and
stared hopelessly before her while she reflected what next, and what more
would come upon her.

Meanwhile the Emperor was standing in a room just behind the antechamber
that had only been finished a few hours since. He began to regret his
hardness upon the old woman--for had she not, without knowing who he was,
been most friendly to him and to his favorite. "Where is Antinous?" he
asked Mastor.

"He went out to the gate-house."

"What is he doing there?"

"I believe he meant--there, perhaps he--"

"The truth, fellow!"

"He is with Pollux the sculptor."

"Has he