Hadrian sat back in his chair; and blamed--Himself. His mind went straight to the root of the matter. It was His Own fault. He had not loved His neighbour. He had been hard, unkind, austere. He had cultivated His natural faculty for rubbing salt upon His neighbour's rawest and most secret sore,--salt in the shape of biting words, satire, sarcasm, corrosive irony, labels which adhered. But, He had done this when fighting, stark-naked and alone, against long odds! No matter. It was part of the struggle for life! No matter. But He would have been killed--not metaphorically but--literally killed, long ago---- How did He know that?--Like all men, He had been trusting in Himself, not in the Maker of the Stars. As a matter of fact, He did not and could not know.--In His Own eyes, as His Own judge, each point of His defence failed. He pleaded guilty. He had not loved His neighbour. His soul fled up to the divinities who severely sit upon the awful bench: but there was no solace to be obtained from them. He took the beautiful crucifix from His neck: the pyx from His breast: laid them on the table; and kneeled before the Sovereign of the seraphim. He made an act of contrition. He acknowledged His sin: acknowledged that He had merited condign punishment. He very humbly thanked God for giving Him His punishment in this world. "O that my lot might lead me in the path of holy innocence of thought and deed, the path which august laws ordain, laws which had their birth in the highest heaven, neither did the race of mortal man beget them, nor shall oblivion ever put them to sleep: for the Power of God is mighty in them," He prayed, in the verses of Sophokles. He sent for His confessor. It had been a dreadful experience. He was conscious of having been shaken seriously. He felt quite old. His youth and strength, His nerve, seemed to have been torn-out of Him. The world seemed to have slipped-away from under Him. Yes--the world---- How should He meet the world?--With equanimity and fortitude. What should He say and do? Nothing.... Nothing.... His confessor arrived; and He confessed that, since His last confession on the previous day, He had been guilty of the sin of anger. Also, He renewed His sorrow for a sin of His past life. He had not loved His neighbour. The bare-footed friar absolved Him; and commanded Him to say, for His penance, one mass for the present and eternal welfare of all whom He had offended.