The Emperor | Page 8

they are busy they
help each other, in idleness they bite each other, like unbroken horses
harnessed to the same pole. The wolf is a fine brute, but if you break
out his teeth he becomes a mangy hound."
"You speak after my own heart," cried the prefect. "But here we are,
eternal gods! I never imagined anything so bad as this. From a distance
it always looked handsome enough!"
Titianus and the architect descended from the chariot, the former

desired a lictor to call the steward of the palace, and then he and his
companion inspected first the door which led into it. It looked fine
enough with its double columns which supported a lofty pediment, but,
all the same, it did not present a particularly pleasing aspect, for the
stucco had, in several places, fallen from the walls, the capitals of the
marble columns were lamentably injured and the tall doors, overlaid
with metal, hung askew on their hinges. Pontius inspected every
portion of the door-way with a keen eye and then, with the prefect,
went into the first court of the palace, in which, in the time of the
Ptolemies, the tents had stood for ambassadors, secretaries, and the
officers in waiting on the king. There they met with an unexpected
hindrance, for across the paved court-yard, where the grass grew in
tufts, and tall thistles were in bloom, a number of ropes were stretched
aslant from the little house in which dwelt the gate-keeper; and on these
ropes were hung newly-washed garments of every size and shape.
"A pretty residence for an Emperor," sighed Titianus, shrugging his
shoulders, but stopping the lictor, who had raised his fasces to cut the
ropes.
"It is not so bad as it looks," said the architect positively. "Gate-keeper!
hi, gate-keeper! Where is the lazy fellow hiding himself?"
While he called out and the lictor hurried forward into the interior of
the palace, Pontius went towards the gate-keeper's lodge, and having
made his way in a stooping attitude through the damp clothes, there he
stood still. Ever since he had come in at the gate annoyance and
vexation had been stamped on his countenance, but now his large
mouth spread into a smile, and he called to the prefect in an undertone:
"Titianus, just take the trouble to come here."
The elderly dignitary, whose tall figure exceeded that of the architect in
height by a full head, did not find it quite so easy to pass under the
ropes with his head bent down; but he did it with good humor, and
while carefully avoiding pulling down the wet linen, he called out:
"I am beginning to feel some respect for children's shirts; one can at

any rate get through them without breaking one's spine. Oh! this is
delicious--quite delicious!"
This exclamation was caused by the sight which the architect had
invited the prefect to come and enjoy, and which was certainly droll
enough. The front of the gate-keeper's house was quite grown over with
ivy which framed the door and window in its long runners. Amidst the
greenery hung numbers of cages with starlings, blackbirds, and smaller
singing-birds. The wide door of the little house stood open, giving a
view into a tolerably spacious and gaily-painted room. In the
background stood a clay model of an Apollo of admirable
workmanship; above, and near this, the wall was hung with lutes and
lyres of various size and form.
In the middle of the room, and near the open door, was a table, on
which stood a large wicker cage containing several nests of young
goldfinches, and with green food twined among the osiers. There were,
too, a large wine-jar and an ivory goblet decorated with fine carving.
Close to the drinking-vessels, on the stone top of the table, rested the
arm of an elderly woman who had fallen asleep in the arm-chair in
which she sat. Notwithstanding the faint grey moustache that marked
her upper-lip and the pronounced ruddiness of her fore head and cheeks,
she looked pleasant and kind. She must have been dreaming of
something that pleased her, for the expression of her lips and of her
eyes-one being half open and the other closely shut-gave her a look of
contentment. In her lap slept a large grey cat, and by its side--as though
discord never could enter this bright little abode which exhaled no
savor of poverty, but, on the contrary, a peculiar and fragrant scent--lay
a small shaggy dog, whose snowy whiteness of coat could only be due
to the most constant care. Two other dogs, like this one, lay stretched
on the floor at the old lady's feet, and seemed no less soundly asleep.
As the prefect came up, the architect pointed to this study of still-life,
and