“Argus seems only to have pulled her down, not to have wounded her; she has lost consciousness however.  Go quickly into my room and bring me the blue phial out of my medicine-case and a cup of water.”

The slave whistled to the hound and obeyed the order as quickly as possible.

Meanwhile Antinous remained on his knees by the senseless girl, and ventured to raise her head with its long soft weight of hair.  How beautiful were those marble-white, and nobly-cut features!  How touching did the silent accent of pain that lay on her lips seem to him, and how happy was the spoilt darling of the Emperor, who was loved by all who saw him, to be able to be tender and helpful, unasked!

“Wake up, oh! wake up!” he cried to Selene—­and when still she did not move, he repeated more urgently and tenderly, “Pray, pray wake up.”

But she did not hear him, and remained motionless even when, with a slight blush, he drew over her shoulder her peplum, which the dog had torn away.  Now Mastor returned with the water and the blue phial, and gave them to the Bithynian.  While Antinous laid the girl’s head in his lap, the slave was hurrying away, saying:  “Caesar called me.”

The lad moistened Selene’s forehead with the reviving fluid, made her inhale the strong essence which the phial contained, and cried again loud and earnestly, “Wake, wake.”—­And presently her lips parted, showing her small, white teeth, and then she slowly raised the lids which had veiled her eyes.  With a deep sigh of relief he set the cup and the phial on the ground so as to support her when she slowly began to raise herself; but, scarcely had he turned his face towards her, when she sprang up suddenly and violently, and flinging both her arms round his neck, cried out: 

“Save me, Pollux, save me!  The monster is devouring me.”  Antinous much startled, seized the girl’s arms to release himself from their embrace, but, she had already freed him and sunk back on to the ground.  The next moment she was shivering violently as if from an attack of fever; again she threw up her hands, pressed them to her temples, and gazed with terror and bewilderment into the face that bent above her.

“What is it?  Who are you?” she asked, in a low voice.

He rose quickly, and while he supported her as she attempted to rise and stand upon her feet, he said: 

“The gods be praised that you are still alive.  Our big hound threw you down-and he has terrible teeth.”  Selene was now standing up, and face to face with the boy at whose last words she shuddered again.

“Do, you feel any pain?” asked Antinous, anxiously.

“Yes,” she said, dully.

“Did he bite you?”

“I think not—­pick up that pin, it has fallen out of my dress.”

The Bithynian obeyed her behest, and while the girl re-fastened her peplum over her shoulders she asked him again: 

“Who are you?  How came the dog in our palace?”