“Your master,” said Keraunus haughtily, “may come in; I think that he regrets the injury he has done me; but Gabinius shall never cross this threshold again, for he is a scoundrel.”

“It would be as well that you should desire that man to leave you for the present,” said the slave, pointing to the tailor.

“Whoever comes to visit me,” said the steward loftily, “must be satisfied to meet any one whom I permit to enter my house.”

“Nay, nay,” said the slave urgently, “my master is a greater man than you think.  Beg this man to leave the room.”

“I know, I know very well,” said Keraunus with a smile.  “Your master is an acquaintance of Caesar’s.  But we shall see, after the performance that is about to take place, which of us two Caesar will decide for.  This tailor has business here and will stay at my pleasure.  Sit in the corner there, my friend.”

“A tailor!” cried Mastor, horrified.  “I tell you he must go.”

“He must!” asked Keraunus wrathfully.  “A slave dares to give orders in my house?  We will see.”

“I am going,” interrupted the artisan who understood the case.  “No unpleasantness shall arise here on my account, I will return in a quarter of an hour.”

“You will stay,” commanded Keraunus.  “This insolent Roman seems to think that Lochias belongs to him; but I will show him who is master here.”

But Mastor paid no heed to these words spoken in a high pitch; he took the tailor’s hand and led him out, whispering to him: 

“Come with me if you wish to escape an evil hour.”

The two men went off and Keraunus did not detain the artisan, for it occurred to his mind that his presence did him small credit.  He purposed to show himself in all his dignity to the overbearing architect, but he also remembered that it was not advisable to provoke unnecessarily the mysterious bearded stranger, with the big clog.  Much excited, and not altogether free from anxiety, he paced up and down his room.  To give himself courage he hastily filled a cup from the wine-jar that stood on the breakfast table, emptied it, refilled it and drank it off a second time without adding any water, and then stood with his arms folded and a strong color in his face awaiting his enemy’s visit.

The Emperor walked in with Gabinius.  Keraunus expected some greeting, but Hadrian spoke not a word, cast a glance at him of the utmost contempt and passed by him without taking any more notice of him than if he had been a pillar or a piece of furniture.  The blood mounted to the steward’s head and heated his eyes and for fully a minute he strove in vain to find words to give utterance to his rage.  Gabinius paid no more heed to Keraunus than the Roman had done.  He walked on ahead and paused in front of the mosaic for which he had offered so high a price, and over which a few days since he had been so sharply dealt with by the steward.