These words recalled to the Emperor’s fancy the moment of his arrival at Lochias; he felt that he was somewhat in the old woman’s debt, and being wont to pay with royal liberality he broke in with: 

“You shall be paid for your excellent dish a sum with which you can purchase a new house, for the future your maintenance too shall be provided for, but in three hours you must have quitted Lochias.”

The Emperor spoke rapidly as though desirous of bringing a disagreeable business to a prompt termination, and he stalked past Doris who was now standing on her feet and leaning as if stunned against the doorpost.  Indeed if Hadrian had not left her there and had he been in the mood to hear her farther, she was not now in a fit state to answer him another word.

The Emperor received the honors due to Zeus and his fiat had ruined the happiness of a contented home as completely as the thunderbolt wielded by the Father of the gods could have done.

But this time Doris had no tears.  The frightful shock that had fallen in her soul was perceptible also to her body; her knees shook, and being quite incapable just then of going home at once, she sunk upon a seat and stared hopelessly before her while she reflected what next, and what more would come upon her.

Meanwhile the Emperor was standing in a room just behind the antechamber that had only been finished a few hours since.  He began to regret his hardness upon the old woman—­for had she not, without knowing who he was, been most friendly to him and to his favorite.  “Where is Antinous?” he asked Mastor.

“He went out to the gate-house.”

“What is he doing there?”

“I believe he meant—­there, perhaps he—­”

“The truth, fellow!”

“He is with Pollux the sculptor.”

“Has he been there long?”

“I do not exactly know.”

“How long, I ask you?”

“He went after you had shut yourself in with Titianus.”

“Three hours—­three whole hours has he been with that braggart, whom I ordered off the premises!” Hadrian’s eye sparkled wrathfully as he spoke.  His annoyance at the absence of his favorite, whose society he permitted no one to enjoy but himself, and least of all Pollux, smothered every kind feeling in his mind, and in a tone of anger bordering on fury he commanded Mastor to go and fetch Antinous, and then to have the gate-house utterly cleared out.

“Take a dozen slaves to help you,” he cried.  “For aught I care the people may carry all their rubbish into a new house, but I will never set eyes again on that howling old woman, nor her imbecile husband.  As for the sculptor I will make him feel that Caesar has a heavy foot and can unexpectedly crush a snake that creeps across his path.”

Mastor went sadly away and Hadrian returned to his work-room, and there called out to his secretary Phlegon: