“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.

“I would beg you,” he said, “to look at this masterpiece.”

The Emperor looked at the ground, but hardly had he begun to study the picture, of which he quite understood and appreciated the beauty, when just behind him he heard in a hoarse voice these words uttered with difficulty: 

“In Alexandria—­it is the custom, to greet—­to say something—­to the people you visit.”  Hadrian half turned his head towards the speaker and said indifferently but with strong and insulting contempt: 

“In Rome too it is the custom to greet honest people.”  Then looking down again at the mosaic he said, “Exquisite, exquisite an inestimable and precious work.”  At Hadrian’s words Keraunus’ eyes almost started out of his head.  His face was crimson and his lips pale; he went close up to him and as soon as he had found breath to speak he said: 

“What have you—­what are your words intended to convey?”

Hadrian turned suddenly and full upon the steward; in his eyes sparkled that annihilating fire which few could endure to gaze on and his deep voice rolled sullenly through the room as he said to the miserable man: