Here the Sarmatian broke off abruptly, and Verus rightly guessed that Antinous had remembered his presence in the Emperor’s room and had signed to the slave to be silent.

But the listener had learnt enough.  The favorite had told his master a lie, and the suicide of the steward’s daughter was a pure romance.  Who would have believed that the silent, dreamy lad had so much presence of mind, and such cunning powers of invention?  The praetor’s handsome face was radiant with satisfaction as he made these reflections, for now he had the Bithynian under his thumb, and now he knew how to accomplish all he wished.  Antinous himself had indicated the right course when he had hastened to the Emperor with a gush of tenderness, in which the warmth was certainly not affected, to kiss his hand.

The favorite loved his master, and Verus could ground his demands on this love without exposing himself, or having to dread the Emperor’s avenging hand in case of betrayal.  He knocked at the door of the adjoining room with a firm hand, and then went confidently and composedly up to the Bithyman, told him that he had an important matter to discuss with him, begged him to return with him into the Emperor’s room and then said, as soon as they were alone together: 

“I am so unfortunate as not to be able to number you among my particular friends; but one strong sentiment we have in common.  We both love Caesar.”

“I love him, certainly,” replied the lad.

“Well then, you must have it at heart to spare him all great sorrow, and to prevent grave apprehensions from paralyzing the pinions of his free and noble soul.”

“No doubt.”

“I knew I should find a colleague in you.  See this roll.  It contains the calculations and diagrams of the greatest astrologer of our time, and from these it is to be discovered that this night, from the end of the second hour of the morning till the beginning of the fourth, the stars will announce fearful disasters to our Sovereign.  Do you understand?”

“Alas! perfectly.”

“After that the indications of evil disappear.  Now if we could only succeed in preventing Hadrian observing the heavens merely during the third hour after midnight we should preserve him from trouble and anxiety, which will torment and spoil his life.  Who knows whether the stars may not be?  But even if they tell the truth, misfortune, when it does come, always comes much too soon.  Do you agree with me?”

“Your suggestion sounds a very sensible one—­still I think—­”

“It is both sensible and wise,” said the praetor, shortly and decidedly, interrupting the boy.  “And it must be your part to hinder Hadrian from marking the course of the stars from the end of the second to the beginning of the fourth hour after midnight.”

“My part?” cried Antinous, startled.

“Yours—­for you are the only person who can accomplish it.”