The dame had in fact been disturbed by the barking.  She sat up a little, lifted her hands, and then, half singing, half muttering a few words, she sank back again in her chair.

“This is delicious!” cried the prefect.

“Begone dull care” she sang in her sleep.

“How may this rare specimen of humanity look when she is awake?”

“I should be sorry to drive the old lady out of her nest!” said the architect unrolling his scroll.

“You shall touch nothing in the little house,” cried the prefect eagerly.  “I know Hadrian; he delights in such queer things and queer people, and I will wager he will make friends with the old woman in his own way.  Here at last comes the steward of this palace.”

The prefect was not mistaken; the hasty step he had heard was that of the official they awaited.  At some little distance they could already hear the man, panting as he hurried up, and as he came, before Titianus could prevent him, he had snatched down the cords that were stretched across the court and flung all the washing on the ground.  As soon as the curtain had thus dropped which had divided him from the Emperor’s representative and his companion, he bowed to the former as low as the rotund dimensions of his person would allow; but his hasty arrival, the effort of strength he had made, and his astonishment at the appearance of the most powerful personage in the Nile Province in the building entrusted to his care, so utterly took away his breath—­of which he at all times was but “scant”—­that he was unable even to stammer out a suitable greeting.  Titianus gave him a little time, and then, after expressing his regret at the sad plight of the washing, now strewn upon the ground, and mentioning to the steward the name and position of his friend Pontius, he briefly explained to him that the Emperor wished to take up his abode in the palace now in his charge; that he—­Titianus—­was cognizant of the bad condition in which it then was, and had come to take council with him and the architect as to what could be done in the course of a few days to make the dilapidated residence habitable for Hadrian, and to repair, at any rate, the more conspicuous damage.  He then desired the steward to lead him through the rooms.

“Directly—­at once,” answered the Greek, who had attained his present ponderous dimensions through many years of rest:  “I will hasten to fetch the keys.”  And as he went, puffing and panting, he re-arranged with his short, fat fingers the still abundant hair on the right side of his head.  Pontius looked after him.

“Call him back, Titianus,” said he.  “We disturbed him in the midst of curling his hair; only one side was done when the lictor called him away, and I will wager my own head that he will have the other side frizzled before he comes back.  I know your true Greek!”

“Well, let him,” answered Titianus.  “If you have taken his measure rightly he will not be able to give his attention without reserve to our questions till the other half of his hair is curled.  I know, too, how to deal with a Hellene.”