“It is your duty.”

“But he never allows any one to disturb him at his studies, and if I were to attempt it he would be very angry and send me off in no time.  No, no, what you ask is impossible.”

“It is not only possible but imperatively necessary.”

“That it certainly cannot be,” replied Antinous, clasping his forehead in his hand.  “Only listen!  Hadrian has known for several days past that some great misfortune threatens him.  I heard it from his own lips.  If you know him at all you must know that he gazes at the stars not merely to rejoice in future happiness, but also to fortify himself against the disasters which threaten him or the state.  What would crush a weaker man only serves to arm his bold spirit.  He can bear all that may befall, and it would be a crime to deceive him.”

“To cloud his heart and mind would be a greater,” retorted Verus.  “Devise some means of taking him away from his star-gazing for only an hour.”

“I dare not, and even if I wished it, it could not be done.  Do you suppose he follows me whenever I call?”

“But you know him; invent something which will be sure to make him come down from his watchtower.”

“I cannot invent or think of any thing.”

“Nothing?” asked Verus, going close tip to the Bithynian.  “You just now gave striking proof to the contrary.”

Antinous turned pale and the praetor went on: 

“When you wanted to rescue the fair Selene from the lictors your swift invention threw her into the sea!”

“She did throw herself in, as truly as that the gods—­”

“Stay, stay,” cried the praetor.  “No perjury, at least!  Selene is living, you send her flowers, and if I should think proper to conduct Hadrian to the house of Paulina—­”

“Oh!” cried Antinous lamentably enough, and grasping the Roman’s hand.  “You will not—­you can not.  Oh Verus! you will not do that.”

“Simpleton,” laughed the praetor, slapping the alarmed youth lightly on the shoulder.  “What good could it do me to ruin you?  I have only one thing at heart just now, and that is to save Caesar from care and anxiety.  Keep him occupied only during the third hour after midnight and you may count on my friendship; but if out of fear or ill-will you refuse me your assistance you do not deserve your sovereign’s favor and then you will compel me—­”

“No more, no more!” cried Antinous interrupting his tormentor in despair.

“Then you promise me to carry out my wish?”

“Yes, by Hercules!  Yes, what you require shall be done.  But eternal gods! how am I to get Caesar—­”

“That, my young friend, I leave with perfect confidence to you and your shrewdness.”

“I am not shrewd—­I can devise nothing,” groaned the lad.

“What you could do out of terror of your master you can do still better for love of him,” retorted the praetor.  “The problem is an easy one; and if after all you should not succeed I shall feel it no less than my duty to explain to Hadrian how well Antinous can take care of his own interests and how badly of his master’s peace of mind.  Till to-morrow, my handsome friend—­and if for the future you have flowers to send, my slaves are quite at your service.”