The Emperor | Page 3

eyes off his master; and the third, a young,
free-man, looked wearily and dreamily down the road.
A broad path, leading to a stately temple, crossed that which led from
the summit of the mountain to the coast, and the bearded pedestrian
turned up it; but he followed it only for a few steps, then he turned his
head with a dissatisfied air, muttered a few unintelligible words into his
beard, turned round and hastily retraced his steps to the narrow way,

down which he went towards the valley. His young companion
followed him without raising his head or interrupting his reverie, as if
he were his shadow, but the slave lifted his cropped fair head and a
stolen smile crossed his lips as on the left hand side of the Kasius road
he caught sight of a black kid, and close beside it an old woman who, at
the approach of the three men covered her wrinkled face in alarm with
her dark blue veil.
"That is the reason then!" said the slave to himself with a nod, and
blowing a kiss into the air to a black-haired girl who crouched at the
old woman's feet. But she, for whom the greeting was intended, did not
observe this mute courtship, for her eyes followed the travellers, and
especially the young man, as if spellbound. As soon as the three were
far enough off not to hear her, the girl asked with a shiver, as if some
desert-spectre had passed by-and in a low voice "Grandmother, who
was that?"
The old woman raised her veil, laid her hand on her grandchild's mouth,
and whispered:
"It was he."
"The Emperor?"
The old woman answered with a significant nod, but the girl squeezed
herself up, against her grandmother, with vehement curiosity stretching
out her dusky head to see better, and asked softly: "The young one?"
"Silly child! the one in front with a grey beard."
"He? Oh, I wish the young one was the Emperor!"
It was in fact Hadrian, the Roman Emperor, who walked on in silence
before his escort, and it seemed as though his advent had given life to
the desert, for as he approached the reed-swamp, the kites flew up in
the air, and from behind a sand-hill on the edge of the broader road
which Hadrian had avoided, came two men in priestly robes. They both
belonged to the temple of Baal of Kariotis, a small structure of solid

stone, which faced the sea, and which the Emperor had yesterday
visited.
"Do you think he has lost his way?" said one to the other, in the
Phoenician tongue.
"Hardly," was the answer. "Master said that he could always find a road
again by which he had once gone, even in the dark."
"And yet he is gazing more at the clouds than at the road."
"Still, he promised us yesterday."
"He promised nothing for certain," interrupted the other.
"Indeed he did; at parting he called out--and I heard him distinctly:
'Perhaps I shall return and consult your oracle.'"
"Perhaps."
"I think he said 'probably.'"
"Who knows whether some sign he has seen up in the sky may not have
turned him back; he is going to the camp by the sea."
"But the banquet is standing ready for him in our great hall."
"He will find what he needs down there. Come, it is a wretched
morning, and I am being frozen."
"Wait a little longer-look there."
"What?"
"He does not even wear a hat to cover his grey hair."
"He has never yet been seen to travel with anything on his head."
"And his grey cloak is not very imperial looking."

"He always wears the purple at a banquet."
"Do you know who his walk and appearance remind me of?"
"Who?"
"Of our late high-priest, Abibaal; he used to walk in that ponderous,
meditative way, and wear a beard like the Emperor's."
"Yes, yes--and had the same piercing grey eye."
"He too used often to gaze up at the sky. They have both the same
broad forehead, too; but Abibaal's nose was more aquiline, and his hair
curled less closely."
"And our governor's mouth was grave and dignified, while Hadrian's
lips twitch and curl at all he says and hears, as if he were laughing at it
all."
"Look, he is speaking now to his favorite--Antonius I think they call
the pretty boy."
"Antinous, not Antonius. He picked him up in Bithynia, they say."
"He is a beautiful youth."
"Incomparably beautiful! What a figure and what a face! Still, I cannot
wish that he were my son."
"The Emperor's favorite!"
"For that very reason. Why, he looks already as if he had tried every
pleasure, and could never know any farther enjoyment."
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On a little level close to