By the other pillar stood Antinous; he had placed his right foot on the low window-sill, and with his chin resting on his hand and his elbow on his knee, his figure was well within the room.

“This, Pontius, is really a first-rate man,” said Hadrian, pointing to a tapestry hanging across the narrow end of the room.  “This hanging was copied from a fruit-piece that I painted some time since, and had executed here in mosaic.  Yesterday this room was not even intended for my use, thus the hanging must have been put up between our arrival and this morning.  And how many other beautiful things I see around me!  The whole place looks habitable, and the eye finds an abundance of objects on which it can rest with pleasure.”

“Have you examined that magnificent cushion?” asked Antinous; “and the bronze figures, there in the corner, look to me far from bad.”

“They are admirable works,” said Hadrian.  “Still, I would do without them with pleasure rather than miss this window.  Which is the bluer, the sky or the sea?  And what a delicious spring breeze fans us here, in the middle of December.  Which are the more delightful to contemplate, the innumerable ships in the harbor, which communicate between this flowery land and other countries, and bless it with wealth, or the buildings which attract the eye in whichever direction it turns.  It is difficult to know whether most to admire their stately dimensions or the beauty of their forms.”

“And what is that long, huge dyke, which connects the island with the mainland?  Only look!  There is a huge trireme passing under one of the wide arches, on which it is supported—­and there comes another.”

“That is the great viaduct, called by the Alexandrians the Heptastadion, because it is said to be seven stadia in length; and in the upper portion it carries a stone water-course—­as an elder tree has in it a vein of pith-which supplies water to the island of Pharos.”

“What a pity it is,” said Antinous, “that we cannot overlook from here the whole of the structure with the men and the vehicles that swarm upon it like busy ants.  That little island and the narrow tongue of land that runs out into the harbor with the tall slender building at the end of it, half hide it.”

“But they serve to vary the picture,” replied the Emperor.  “Cleopatra often dwelt in the little castle on the island with its harbor, and in that tall tower on the northern side of the peninsula, round which, just now, the blue waves are playing, while the gulls and pigeons fly happily over it—­there Antony retreated after the fight of Actium.”

“To forget his disgrace!” exclaimed Antinous.

“He named it his Timonareum, because he hoped there to remain unmolested by other human beings, like the wise misanthrope of Athens.  How would it be if I called Lochias my Timonareum?”

“No man need try to hide fame and greatness.”