“It is true!  I am not mistaken!  There is Hadrian’s wife Sabina talking out there to your mother.”

He had heard rightly; the Empress had come to Lochias to seek out her husband.  She had got out of the chariot at the gate of the old palace for the paving of the court-yard would not be completed before that evening.

Dogs, of which her husband was so fond, she detested; the shrewd beasts returned her aversion, so dame Doris found it more difficult than usual to succeed in reducing her disobedient pets to silence when they flew viciously at the stranger.  Sabina terrified, vehemently desired the old woman to release her from their persecution, while the chamberlain who had come with her and on whom she was leaning kicked out at the irrepressible little wretches and so increased their spite.  At last the Graces withdrew into the house.  Dame Doris drew a deep breath and turned to the Empress.

She did not suspect who the stranger was for she had never seen Sabina and had formed quite a different idea of her.

“Pardon me good lady,” she said in her frank confiding manner.  “The little rascals mean no harm and never bite even a beggar, but they never could endure old women.  Whom do you seek here mother?”

“That you shall soon know,” replied Sabina sharply, “what a state of things, Lentulus, your architect Pontius’ work has brought about.  And what must the inside be like if this but is left standing to disgrace the entrance of the palace!  It must go with its inhabitants.  Desire that woman to conduct us to the Roman lord who dwells here.”

The chamberlain obeyed and Doris began to suspect who was standing before her, and she said as she smoothed down her dress and bowed low: 

“What great honor befalls us illustrious lady; perhaps you are even the Emperor’s wife?  If that be the case—­”

Sabina made an impatient sign to the chamberlain who interrupted the old woman exclaiming: 

“Be silent and show us the way.”

Doris was not feeling particularly strong that day, and her eyes already red with weeping about her son again filled with tears.  No one had ever spoken so to her before, and yet, for her son’s sake she would not repay sharp words in the same coin, though she had plenty at her command.

She tottered on in front of Sabina, and conducted her to the hall of the Muses.  There Pontius relieved her of the duty, and the respect he paid to the stranger made her sure that in fact she was none other than the Empress in person.

“An odious woman!” said Sabina, as she went on pointing to Doris, whom her words could not escape.  This was too much for the old woman; past all self-control she flung herself on to a seat that was standing by, covered her face with her hands and began crying bitterly.  She felt as if the very ground were snatched from under her feet.