oceeded
to the hall of the Muses where, surrounded by his court, he received the
high-priests and spiritual fathers of the different temples of the Nile
Valley, to be hailed by them as the Son of Sun-god, and to assure them
and the religion they cherished his gracious countenance. He vouchsafed
his consent to their prayer that he would add sanctity and happiness to
the temples of the immortals which they served by gracing them with his
presence, but set aside for the moment the question as to which town
might be permitted to have the care of the recently-discovered Apis.

This audience took up several hours. Verus shirked the duty of attending
it with Titianus and the other dignitaries of the court, and remained
sitting motionless by the window; it was not till Hadrian was gone from
the room that he came forward into it again. He was quite alone, for
Antinous had left the room with the Emperor. The praetor's remaining
behind had not escaped the lad's notice, but he sought to avoid him, for
the domineering, mocking spirit of Verus repelled him. Besides this the
terror which he had gone through, as well as the consciousness that he
had been guilty of a lie and had daringly deceived his kind master, had
upset a soul hitherto untainted by any subterfuge and had thrown him off
his balance. He longed to be alone, for it would have been keenly painful
to him at this moment to discuss indifferent subjects, or to be forced to
affect an easy demeanor. He sat in his little room, before a table, with
his face buried in his hands that rested on it.

Verus did not immediately follow him, for he understood what was passing
in his mind and knew that here he could not escape him. In a few minutes
all was still alike in the large room and in the small one. Then the
praetor heard the door between the smaller room and the corridor hastily
opened and immediately the Bithynian's exclamation:

"At last, Mastor--have you seen Selene?"

With two long, noiseless steps Verus went close to the door leading into
the adjoining room, and listened for the slave's answer, though a less
sharp ear than that of the praetor might have heard every syllable.

"How should I have seen her?" asked the Sarmatian sharply. "She is still
suffering and in bed. I gave your flowers to the deformed girl who takes
care of her; but I will not do it again, you may rely upon it, not if you
coax even more fondly than you did yesterday and promise me all Caesar's
treasur