Egypt -- History -- 30 B.C.-640 A.D. -- Fiction; German fiction -- Translations into English; Hadrian, Emperor of Rome, 76-138 -- Fiction
It was now dark and the same light which had allowed of the sculptor’s
seeing Selene’s features might this evening reveal them to him also.
Full of passion and excitement, he got into the first litter he met
with. The swarthy bearers were far too slow for his longing, and more
than once he flung to them as much money as they were wont to earn in
a week, to urge them to a brisker pace. At last he reached his
destination; but seeing that several men and women robed in white, were
going into the garden, he desired the bearers to carry him farther.
Close to a dark narrow lane which bounded the widow’s garden-plot on the
east and led directly to the sea, he desired them to stop, got out of
the litter and bid the slaves wait for him. At the garden door he still
found two men dressed in white, and one of the cynic philosophers who
had sat by him on the bench near the Paneum. He paced impatiently up
and clown, waiting till these people should have disappeared, and thus
passing again and again under the light of the torches that were stuck
up by the gate.
The dry cynic’s prominent eyes were everywhere at once, and as soon as
he perceived the peripatetic Bithynian he flung up his arm, exclaiming,
as he pointed to him with a long, lean, stiff forefinger--half to the
Christians with whom he had been talking and half to the lad himself:
“What does he want. That fop! that over-dressed minion! I know the
fellow; with his smooth face and the silver quiver on his shoulder he
believes he is Eros in person. Be off with you, you house-rat. The women
and girls in here know how to protect themselves against the sort who
parade the streets in rose-colored draperies. Take yourself off, or you
will make acquaintance with the noble Paulina’s slaves and clogs. Hi!
gate-keeper, here! keep an eye on this fellow.”
Antinous made no answer, but slowly went back to his litter.
“To-morrow perhaps, if I cannot manage it tonight,” he thought to
himself as he went; and he never thought of any other means of attaining
his end, much as he longed for it. A hindrance that came in his way
ceased to be a hindrance as soon as he had left it behind him, and after
this reflection he acted on this occasion as on many former ones. The
litter was no longer standing where he had left it; the bearers had
carried it into the lane leading to the sea, for the only little abode
which stood on the eastern side of it belonged to a fisherman whose wife
sold thin potations of Pelusium beer.
Antinous went down the green alley overarched with boughs of fig, to
call the negroes who were sitting in the dull light of a smoky oil-lamp.
Here it was dark, but at the end of the alley the sea shone and sparkled
in the moonlight; the splashing of the waves tempted him onwards and he
loitered clown to the stone-bound shore. There he spied a boat dancing
on the water between two piles and it came into his head that it might
be possible to see the house where Selene was sleeping, from the sea.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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