Egypt -- History -- 30 B.C.-640 A.D. -- Fiction; German fiction -- Translations into English; Hadrian, Emperor of Rome, 76-138 -- Fiction
“I sleep in the morning. If you are tired, go to bed now.”
But Antinous remained, gazing, like his master, at the stars. He knew
very few of the brilliant bodies by their names, but some of them were
very dear to him, particularly the Pleiades which his father had pointed
out to him and which reminded him of his home. There he had been so
quiet and happy, and how wildly his anxious heart was throbbing now!
“Go to bed, the second hour is beginning,” said Hadrian.
“Already!” said the boy; and as he reflected how soon that must be
done which Verus had required of him, and then looked up again at the
heavens, it seemed to him as though all the stars in the blue vault
over his head had glided from their places and were dancing in wild and
whirling confusion between the sky and the sea. He closed his eyes in
his bewilderment; then, bidding his master good-night he lighted a torch
and by its flaring and doubtful light descended from the tower.
Pontius had erected this slight structure expressly for Hadrian’s
nightly observations. It was built of timber and Nile-mud and stood
up as a tall turret on the secure foundation of an ancient watch-tower
built of hewn stone, which, standing among the low buildings that served
as storehouses for the palace, commanded a free outlook over all the
quarters of the sky. Hadrian, who liked to be alone and undisturbed when
observing the heavens, had preferred this erection--even after he had
made himself known to the Alexandrians--to the great observatory of the
Serapeum, from which a still broader horizon was visible.
After Antinous had got out of the smaller and newer tower into the
larger and older one he sat down on one of the lowest steps to collect
his thoughts and to quiet his loudly-beating heart. His vain cogitations
began all over again. Time slipped on-between the present moment and
the deed to be done there were but a certain number of minutes. He told
himself so, and his weary brain stirred more actively, suggesting to him
to feign illness and bring the Emperor to his bedside. But Hadrian was
physician enough to see that he was well, and even if he should allow
himself to be deceived, he, Antinous, was a deceiver. This thought
filled him with horror of himself and with dread for the future, and
yet it was the only plan that gave any hope of success. And even when he
sprang to his feet and walked hastily up and down among the out-houses
he could hit upon no other scheme. And how fast the minutes flew!
The third hour after midnight must be quite close at hand, and he had
scarcely left himself time to rush back into the palace, throw himself
on his couch, and call Mastor. Quite bewildered with agitation and
tottering like a drunken man he hastened back into the old tower where
he had left his torch leaning against the wall and looked up the stone
stairs; it suddenly flashed through his mind that he might go up again
to fling himself down them. What did he care for his miserable life.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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