Neither Hadrian nor Antinous closed their eyes that fearful night.  The Emperor had as yet opened only one of the rolls that were in the day’s letter-bag; it contained the information that Titianus the prefect was cruelly troubled by his old difficulty of breathing, with a petition from that worthy official to be allowed to retire from the service of the state and to withdraw to his own estate.  It was no small matter for Hadrian to dispense for the future with this faithful coadjutor, to lose the man on whom he had had his eye to tranquillize Judaea—­where a fresh revolt had raised its head, and to reduce it again to subjection without bloodshed.  To crush and depopulate the rebellious province was within the power of other men, but to conquer and govern it with kindness belonged only to the wise and gentle Titianus.  The Emperor had no heart to open a second letter that night.  He lay in silence on his couch till morning began to grow gray, thinking over every evil hour of his life—­the murders of Nigrinus, of Tatianus and of the senators, by which he had secured the sovereignty—­and again he vowed to the gods immense sacrifices if only they would protect him from impending disaster.

When he rose next morning Antinous was startled at his aspect, for Hadrian’s face and lips were perfectly bloodless.  After he had read the remainder of his letters he started, not on foot but on horseback, with Antinous and Mastor for Besa, there to await the rest of the escort.

CHAPTER XXI.

The unchained elements had raged that night with equal fury over the Nile city of Besa.  The citizens of this ancient town had done all they could to give the Imperial traveller a worthy reception.  The chief streets had been decked with ropes of flowers strung from mast to mast and from house to house, and by the harbor, close to the river shore, statues of Hadrian and his wife had been erected.  But the storm tore down the masts and the garlands, and the lashed waters of the Nile had beaten with irresistible fury on the bank; had carried away piece after piece of the fertile shore, flung its waves, like liquid wedges into the rifts of the parched land; and excavated the high bank by the landing-quay.

After midnight the storm was still raging with unheard-of fury; it swept the palm thatch from many of the houses, and beat the stream with such violence that it was like a surging sea.  The full unbroken force of the flood beat again and again on the promontory on which stood the statues of the Imperial couple.  Shortly before the first dawn of light the little tongue of land, which was protected by no river wall, could no longer resist the furious attack of the waters; huge clods of soil slipped and fell with a loud noise into the river and were followed by a large mass of the cliff, with a roar as of thunder the plateau behind sank, and the statue of the Emperor which stood upon it began to totter and lean slowly to its fall.  When day broke it was lying with the pedestal still above ground, but the head was buried in the earth.