“How came these people by such a pasty as this?”

“Where did you get it from?” asked the prefect of the singer.

“From the banquet which the architect gave to the artists here,” answered Euphorion.  “The bones were given to the Graces and this dish, which had not been touched, to me and my wife.  She devoted it with pleasure to Pontius’ guest.”

Titianus laughed and exclaimed: 

“This then accounts for the total disappearance of the handsome supper which we sent down to the architect.  This pasty-allow me to look at it—­ this pasty was prepared by a recipe obtained from Verus.  He invited us to breakfast yesterday and instructed my cook how to prepare it.”

“No Platonist ever propagated his master’s doctrines with greater zeal than Verus does the merits of this dish,” said the Emperor, who had recovered his good humor as soon as he perceived that no artful preparation for his arrival was to be suspected in this matter.  “What follies that spoilt child of fortune can commit!  Does he still insist on cooking with his own hands?”

“No, not quite that,” replied the prefect.  “But he had a couch placed for him in the kitchen on which he stretched himself at full length and told my cook exactly how to prepare the pasty, of which you are—­I should say, of which the Emperor is particularly fond.  It consists of pheasant, ham, cow’s udder and a baked crust.”

“I am quite of Hadrian’s opinion,” laughed the Emperor; doing all justice to the excellent pie.  “You entertain me splendidly my friend, and I am very much your debtor.  What did you say your name is young man?”

“Pollux.”

“Your Urania, Pollux, is a fine piece of work, and Pontius says you executed the drapery without a model.  I said, and I repeat, that it is simply impossible.”

“You judge rightly, a young girl stood for it.”

The Emperor glanced at the architect, as much as to say, I knew it!

Pontius asked in astonishment: 

“When?  I have never seen a female form within these walls.”

“Recently.”

“But I have never quitted Lochias for a minute.  I have never gone to rest before midnight, and have been on my legs again long before sunrise.”

“But still there were several hours between your going to sleep, and waking up again,” replied Pollux.  “Ah, youth—­youth!” exclaimed the Emperor, and a satirical smile played upon his lips.

“Part Damon and Phyllis by iron doors, and they will find their way to each other through the key-hole.”

Euphorion looked seriously at his son, the architect shook his head and refrained from further questions, but Hadrian rose from his couch, dismissed Antinous and his secretary to bed, requested Titianus to go home and to give his wife his kindly greetings, and then desired Pollux to conduct him within this screen, since he himself was not tired and was accustomed to do with only a few hours sleep.