Egypt -- History -- 30 B.C.-640 A.D. -- Fiction; German fiction -- Translations into English; Hadrian, Emperor of Rome, 76-138 -- Fiction
Mastor thought no more of making his escape. When he appeared again in
his master's presence there was such a sunny light in his blue eyes that
Hadrian left the angry words he had prepared for him unspoken, and cried
to Antinous, laughing and pointing to the slave:
"I really believe the rascal has consoled himself already, and found a
new mate. Let us, too, follow the precept of Horace, so far as we may,
and enjoy the present day. The poet may let the future go as it will,
but I cannot, for, unfortunately, I am the Emperor."
"And Rome may thank the gods that you are," replied Antinous.
"What happy phrases the boy hits upon sometimes," said Hadrian with a
laugh, and he stroked the lad's brown curls. "Now till noon I must work
with Phlegon and Titianus, whom I am expecting, and then perhaps we may
find something to laugh at. Ask the tall sculptor there behind the
screens, at what hour Balbilla is to sit to him for her bust. We must
also inspect the architect's work, and that of the Alexandrian artists by
daylight; that, their zeal has well deserved."
Hadrian retired to the room where his private secretary had ready for him
the despatches and papers for Rome and the provinces, which the Emperor
was required to read and to sign. Antinous remained alone in the
sitting-room, and for an hour he continued to gaze at the ships which
came to anchor in the harbor, or sailed out of the roads, and amused
himself with watching the swift boats which swarmed round the larger
vessels, like wasps round ripe fruit. He listened to the songs of the
sailors, and the music of the flute-players, to the measured beat of the
oars, which came up from the triremes in the private harbor of the
Emperor as they went out to sea. Even the pure blue of the sky and the
warmth of the delicious morning were a pleasure to him, and he asked
himself whether the smell of tar, which pervaded the seaport, were
agreeable or not.
Presently as the sun mounted in the sky, its bright sphere dazzled him;
he left the window with a yawn, stretched himself on a couch, and stared
absently up at the ceiling of the room without thinking of the subject
which the faded picture on it was intended to represent.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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