The Emperor drew back a step from his wife.  A miracle had been wrought before his eyes.  Sabina—­in whose eyes no tear had ever been seen—­Sabina was weeping, Sabina had a heart like other women.  Greatly astonished and deeply moved he saw her turn from him, utterly shaken by the agitation of her feelings, and sink on her knees by the side of the couch she had quitted to hide her face in the cushions.  He stood motionless by her side, but presently going nearer to her: 

“Stand up, Sabina,” he said.  “Your desire is a just one.  You shall have the son for whom your soul longs.”

The Empress rose and a grateful look in her eyes, swimming in tears, met his glance.  Sabina could smile too, she could look sweet!  It had taken a lifetime, it had needed such a moment as this to reveal it to Hadrian.

He silently drew a seat towards her and sat down by her side; for some time he sat with her hand clasped in his, in silence.  Then he let it go and said kindly: 

“And will Verus fulfil all you expect of a son?” She nodded assent.

“What makes you so confident of that?” asked the Emperor.  “He is a Roman and not lacking in brilliant and estimable gifts.  A man who shows such mettle alike in the field and in the council-chamber and yet can play the part of Eros with such success will also know how to wear the purple without disgracing it.  But he has his mother’s light blood, and his heart flutters hither and thither.”

“Let him be as he is.  We understand each other and he is the only man on whose disposition I can build, on whose fidelity I can count as securely as if he were my favorite son.”

“And on what facts is this confidence based?”

“You will understand me, for you are not blind to the signs which Fate vouchsafes to us.  Have you time to listen to a short story?”

“The night is yet young.”

“Then I will tell you.  Forgive me if I begin with things that seem dead and gone; but they are not, for they live and work in me to this hour.  I know that you yourself did not choose me for your wife.  Plotina chose me for you—­she loved you, whether your regard for her was for the beautiful woman or for the wife of Caesar to whom everything belonged that you had to look for—­how should I know?”

“It was Plotina, the woman, that I honored and loved—­”

“In choosing me she chose you a wife who was tall and so fitted to wear the purple, but who was never beautiful.  She knew me well and she knew that I was less apt than any other woman to win hearts; in my parents’ house no child ever enjoyed so slender a share of the gifts of love, and none can know better than you that my husband did not spoil me with tenderness.”

“I could repent of it at this moment.”

“It would be too late now.  But I will not be bitter—­no, indeed I will not.  And yet if you are to understand me I must own that so long as I was young I longed bitterly for the love which no one offered me.”