There was no excuse, no forgiveness possible for the deed he had done; to please that dissolute coxcomb, that mocking hypocrite, he had become a traitor to his master and an incendiary, and must endure to be overwhelmed with praises and thanks by the greatest and most keen-sighted of men.  He hated, he abhorred himself, and asked himself why the fire which had blazed around him had been satisfied only to inflict slight injuries on his hands and hair.  When Hadrian returned to him he asked his permission to go to bed.  The Emperor gladly granted it, ordered Mastor to watch by his side, and then agreed to his wife’s request that he would visit her.

Sabina had not been to the scene of the fire, but she had sent a messenger every hour to inquire as to the progress of the conflagration and the well-being of her husband.  When he had first arrived at the Caesareum she had met and welcomed him and then had retired to her own apartments.

It wanted only two hours of midnight when Hadrian entered her room; he found her reclining on a couch without the jewels she usually wore in the daytime but dressed as for a banquet.

“You wished to speak with me?” said the Emperor.  “Yes, and this day—­so full of remarkable events as it has been—­has also a remarkable close since I have not wished in vain.”

“You so rarely give me the opportunity of gratifying a wish.”

“And do you complain of that?”

“I might—­for instead of wishing you are wont to demand.”

“Let us cease this strife of idle words.”

“Willingly.  With what object did you send for me?”

“Verus is to-day keeping his birthday.”

“And you would like to know what the stars promise him?”

“Rather how the signs in the heavens have disposed you towards him.”

“I had but little time to consider what I saw.  But at any rate the stars promise him a brilliant future.”

A gleam of joy shone in Sabina’s eyes, but she forced herself to keep calm and asked, indifferently: 

“You admit that, and yet you can come to no decision?”

“Then you want to hear the decisive word spoken at once, to-day?”

“You know that without my answering you.”

“Well, then, his star outshines mine and compels me to be on my guard against him.”

“How mean!  You are afraid of the praetor?”

“No, but of his fortune which is bound up with you?”

“When he is our son his greatness will be ours.”

“By no means, since if I make him what you wish him to be, he will certainly try to make our greatness his.  Destiny—­”

“You said it favored him; but unfortunately I must dispute the statement.”

“You?  Do you try too, to read the stars?”

“No, I leave that to men.  Have you heard of Ammonius, the astrologer?”

“Yes.  A very learned man who observes from the tower of the Serapeum, and who, like many of his fellows in this city has made use of his art to accumulate a large fortune.”