“But they serve to vary the picture,” replied the Emperor.  “Cleopatra often dwelt in the little castle on the island with its harbor, and in that tall tower on the northern side of the peninsula, round which, just now, the blue waves are playing, while the gulls and pigeons fly happily over it—­there Antony retreated after the fight of Actium.”

“To forget his disgrace!” exclaimed Antinous.

“He named it his Timonareum, because he hoped there to remain unmolested by other human beings, like the wise misanthrope of Athens.  How would it be if I called Lochias my Timonareum?”

“No man need try to hide fame and greatness.”

“Who told you that it was shame that led Antony to hide himself in that place?” asked the imperial sophist; “he proved often enough, at the head of his cavalry, that he was a brave soldier; and though at Actium, when all was still going well, he let his ship be turned, it was out of no fear of swords and spears, but because Fate compelled him to subjugate his strong will to the wishes of a woman with whose destiny his was linked.”

“Then do you excuse his conduct?”

“I only seek to account for it, and never, for a moment, could allow myself to believe that shame ever prompted a single act in Antony.  I—­do you suppose I could ever blush?  Nay, we cease to feel shame when we have lived to feel such profound contempt for the world.”

“But why then should Marc Antony have shut himself up, in yonder sea-washed prison?”

“Because, to every true man, who has dissipated whole years of his life with women, jesters and flatterers, a moment comes of satiety and loathing.  In such an hour he feels that of all the men under the lights of heaven, he, himself, is the only one with whom it is worth his while to commune.  After Actium, this was what Antony felt, and he quitted the society of men in order to find himself for once in good company.”

“It is that, no doubt, which drives you now and again into solitude.”

“No doubt-but you are always allowed to follow me.”

“Then you regard me as better than others,” exclaimed Antinous joyfully.

“As more beautiful at any rate,” replied Hadrian kindly.  “Ask me some more questions.”

But Antinous needed a few minutes pause before he could comply with this desire.  At last he recollected himself and proceeded to inquire why most of the vessels were moored in the harbor beyond the Heptastadion, known as Eunostus.  The entrance there was less dangerous than that between the Pharos and the point of Lochias which led into the eastern landing-places.  And then Hadrian could give him information as to every building in the city about which his companion evinced any curiosity.  But when the Emperor had pointed out the Soma, under which rested the remains of Alexander the Great, he became thoughtful, and said, as if to himself: 

“The Great—­We may well envy the young Macedonian; not the mere name of Great, for many of small worth have had it bestowed on them, but because he really earned it!”