CHAPTER XI.

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      Pontius threw his pallium over the chiton he commonly wore at his work and went forward to meet the sovereign of the world, whose arrival had been announced to him in the prefect’s letter. He was perfectly calm, and if his heart beat a little faster than usual, it was only because he was pleased once more to meet the wonderful man whose personality had made a deep impression on him before.

      In the happy consciousness of having done all that lay in his power and of deserving no blame, he went through the ante-chambers and chief entrance of the palace into the fore-court, where a crowd of slaves were busied by torch-light in laying new marble slabs. Neither these workmen nor their overseers had paid any heed to the barking of the dogs and the loud talking which had for some little time been audible in the vicinity of the gate-keeper’s lodge; for a special rate of payment had been promised to the laborers and their foremen if they should have finished a set piece of the new pavement by a certain hour, to the satisfaction of the architect. No one who heard the deep man’s-voice ring through the court from the doorway guessed to whom it belonged.

      The Emperor had been delayed by adverse winds and had not run into the harbor till a little before midnight.

      Titianus, who was watching for him, he greeted as an old friend with heartfelt warmth, and with him and Antinous he stepped into the prefect’s chariot, while Phlegon the secretary, Hermogenes his physician, and Mastor with the luggage, among which were their campbeds, were to follow in another vehicle. The harbor watchmen hastened to array themselves indignantly to oppose the chariot, as it rolled noisily along the street, and the huge dog that destroyed the peace of the night with its baying; but as soon as they recognized Titianus they respectfully made way. The gate-keeper and his wife, obedient to the prefect’s warning, had remained up, and as soon as the singer heard the chariot approaching which bore the Emperor, he hastened to open the palace-gates. The broken-up pavement and the swarms of men engaged in repairing it, obliged Titianus and his companions to quit the chariot here and to pass close to the little gate-house. Hadrian, whose observation nothing ever escaped which came in his way and seemed worth noticing, stood still before Euphorion’s door and looked into the comfortable little room, with its decoration of flowers and birds and the statue of Apollo; while dame Doris in her newest garments, stood on the threshold to watch for the prefect. And Titianus greeted her warmly, for he was wont whenever he came to Lochias to exchange a few merry or wise words with her. The little dogs had already crept into their basket, but as soon as they caught sight of a strange dog they rushed past their mistress into the open air, and dame Doris found herself obliged, while she returned the kindly greeting of her patron, to shout at Euphrosyne, Thalia and Aglaia more than once by their pretty names.

      “Splendid, splendid!” cried Hadrian, pointing into the little house. “An idyl, a perfect idyl. Who would have expected to find such a smiling nook of peace in the most restless and busy town in the empire.”

      “I and Pontius were equally surprised at this little nest, and we therefore left it untouched,” said the prefect.

      “Intelligent people understand each other, and I owe you thanks for preserving this little home,” answered the Emperor. “What an omen, what a favorable, in every way favorable augury, it offers me. The Graces receive me here into these old walls, Aglaia, Thalia and Euphrosyne!”

      “Good luck to you, Master,” old Doris called out to the prefect.

      “We come late,” said Hadrian.

      “That does not matter,” said the old woman. “Here at Lochias for the last week we have quite forgotten to distinguish day from night, and a blessing can never come too late.”

      “I have brought with me to-day an illustrious guest,” said Titianus. “The great Roman architect Claudius Venator. He only disembarked a few minutes since.”

      “Then a draught of wine will do him good. We have in the house some good white Mareotic from my daughter’s garden by the lake. If your friend will do us humble folks so much honor, I beg he will step into our room; it is clean, is it not sir? and the cup I will give him to drink it out of would not disgrace the Emperor himself. Who knows what you will find up in the midst of all the muddle yonder?”

      “I will accept your invitation with pleasure,” answered Hadrian. “I can see by your face that you have a pleasure in entertaining us, and any one might envy you your little house.”

      “When the climbing-rose and the honey-suckle are out it is much prettier,” said Doris, as she filled the cup. “Here is some water for mixing.”

      The Emperor took the cup carved by Pollux, looked at it with admiration, and before putting it to his lips said:

      “A masterpiece, dame; what would Caesar find to drink out of here where the gate-keeper uses such a treasure? Who executed this admirable work, pray?”

      “My son carved it for me in his spare time.”

      “He is a highly-skilled sculptor,” Titianus explained.

      When the Emperor had half emptied the cup with much satisfaction he set it on the table, and said:

      “A very noble drink! I thank you, mother.”

      “And I you, for styling me mother: there is no better title a woman can have who has brought up good children; and I have three who need never be ashamed to be seen.”

      “I wish you all luck with them, good little mother,” replied the Emperor.

      “We shall meet again, for I am going to spend some days at Lochias.”

      “Now, in all this bustle?” asked Doris.

      “This great architect,” said Titianus, in explanation, “is to advise and help our Pontius.”

      “He needs no help!” cried the old woman. “He is a man of the best stamp. His foresight and energy, my son says, are incomparable. I have seen him giving his orders myself, and I know a man when I see him!”

      “And what particularly pleased you in him?” asked Hadrian, who was much amused with the shrewd old woman’s freedom.

      “He never for a moment loses his temper in all the hurry, never speaks a word too much or too little; he can be stern when it is necessary, but he is kind to his inferiors. What his merits are as an artist I am not capable of judging, but I am quite certain that he is a just and able man.”

      “I know him myself,” replied Caesar, “and you describe him rightly; but he