CHAPTER XV.

After the Emperor’s body-slave had started up to go to the aid of Selene, who was attacked by his sovereign’s dog, something had happened to him which he could not forget; he had received an impression which he could not wipe out, and words and tones had stirred his mind and soul which incessantly echoed in them, so that it was in a preoccupied and half-dreamy way that he had done his master those little services which he was accustomed to perform every morning, briskly and with complete attention.

Summer and winter Mastor was accustomed to leave his master’s bedroom before sunrise to prepare everything that Hadrian could need when he rose from his slumbers.  There was the gold plating to clean on the narrow greaves and the leather straps which belonged to his master’s military boots, his clothes to air and to perfume with the slight, hardly perceptible scent that he liked, but the preparations for Hadrian’s bath were what took up most of his time.  At Lochias there were not as yet—­ as there were in the imperial palace at Rome—­properly-filled baths; still his servant knew that here, as there, his master would use a due abundance of water.  He had been told that if he required anything for his master he was to apply to Pontius.  Him he found, without seeking him, outside the room meant for Hadrian’s sitting-room, to which, while the Emperor still slept, he was endeavoring, with the help of his assistants, to give a comfortable and pleasing aspect.  The architect referred the slave to the workmen who were busy laying the pavement in the forecourt of the palace; these men would carry in for him as much water as ever he could need.  The body-servant’s position relieved him of such humble duties, still, when on the chase, when travelling, or as need arose, he was accustomed to perform them unasked, and very willingly.

The sun had not yet risen when he went out into the court, a number of slaves were lying on their mats asleep, others had camped round a fire and were waiting for their early broth, which was being stirred with wooden sticks by an old man and a boy.  Mastor would not disturb either group; he went up to a party of workmen, who seemed to be talking together, and yet remained attentive to the speech of an old man who was evidently telling them a story.

The poor fellow’s heart was heavy and his mind was little bent on tales and amusements.  All life was embittered.  The services required of him usually seemed to him of paramount importance, beyond everything else; but to-day it was different.  He had an obscure feeling as though fate herself had released him from all his duties, as if misfortune had cut the bonds which bound him to his service to the Emperor, and had made him an isolated and lonely being.  It even came into his head whether he should not take in his hand all the gold pieces given him sometimes by Hadrian, or which the wealthy folks who wished to be the foremost of those introduced into the Emperor’s presence, after waiting in the antechamber, had flung to him or slipped into his hand—­make his escape and carouse away all that he possessed in the taverns of the great city, in wine and the gay company of women.  It was all the same to him what might happen to him.