Altogether a queer fellow. And you say he is fat, is he jolly?
As far from it as possible.
Ah, people who are fat and cross are my aversion. What is this by way of an erection?
Behind that screen works Papias best scholar. His name is Pollux, and he is the son of the couple who keep the gate-house. You will be pleased with him.
Call him here, said the Emperor.
But before the architect could comply with his desire the sculptors head had appeared above the screen. The young man had heard the approaching voices and steps; he greeted the prefect respectfully from his elevated position, and after satisfying his curiosity was about to spring down from the stool on which he had climbed when Pontius called to him that Claudius Venator, the architect from Rome, wished to make his acquaintance.
That is very kind in him, and still more kind in you, Pollux answered from above, since it is only from you that he can know that I exist beneath the moon, and use the hammer and chisel. Allow me to descend from my four-legged cothurnus, for at present you are forced to look up to me, and from all I have heard of your talents from Pontius, nothing can be more absolutely the reverse of what it ought to be.
Nay, stop where you are, answered Hadrian. We, as fellow-artists, may waive ceremony.What are you doing in there?
I will push the screen back in a moment and show you our Urania. It is very good for an artist to hear the opinion of a man who thoroughly understands the thing.
Presently, friend-presently; first let me enjoy a scrap of bread, for the severity of my hunger might very possibly influence my judgment.
As he was speaking the architect offered the Emperor a salver with bread, salt, and a cup of wine, which his own slave had carried to him. When Pollux observed this modest meal, he called out:
That is prisoners fare, Pontius; have we nothing better in the house than that?
Possibly you yourself assisted in demolishing the dainty dishes I had sent down for the architect, cried Titianus, pretending to threaten him.
You are defacing a fair memory, sighed the sculptor, with mock melancholy. But, by Hercules, I did my fair share of the work of destruction. If only nowbut stay! I have an idea worthy of Aristotle himself! that breakfast, to which I invited you to-morrow morning, most noble Pontius, is all ready at my mothers, and can be warmed up in a few minutes. Do not be alarmed, worthy sir, but the dish in question is cabbage with sausagesa mess which, like the soul of an Egyptian, possesses at the instant of resurrection, nobler qualities than when it first sees the light.
Excellent, cried Hadrian. Cabbage and sausages! He wiped his full lips with his hand, smiling with gratification, and he broke into a hearty laugh of amusement as he heard a loud Ah! of satisfaction from Antinous, who drew nearer to the canvas screen. There is another whose mouth waters and whose imagination revels in a happy future, said the Emperor to the prefect, pointing to his favorite.
But he had misinterpreted the lads exclamation, for it was the mere name of the dishwhich his mother had often set on the table of his humble home in Bithyniawhich reminded him of his native country and his childhood, and transplanted him in thought back into their midst. It was a swift leap at his heart, and not merely the pleasant watering of his gums, that had forced the Ah to his lips. Still, he was glad to see his native dish again, and would not have exchanged it against the richest banquet. Pollux had meanwhile come out of his nook, and said:
In a quarter of an hour I shall set before you the breakfast which has been turned into a supper. Mitigate your worst hunger with some bread and salt, and then my mothers cabbage-stew will not only satisfy you, but will be enjoyed with calm appreciation.
Greet dame Doris from me, Hadrian called after the sculptor; and when Pollux had quitted the hall he turned to Titianus and Pontius and said:
What a splendid young fellow. I am curious to see what he can do as an artist.
Then follow me, replied Pontius, leading the way.
What do you say to this Urania? Papias made the head of the Muse, but the figure and the drapery Pollux formed with his own hand in a few days.
The imperial artist stood in front of the statue, with his arms crossed, and remained there for some time in silence. Then he nodded his bearded head approvingly, and said gravely:
A well-considered work, and carried out with remarkable freedom; this mantle drawn over the bosom would not disgrace a Phidias. All is broad, characteristic and true. Did the young artist work from the model here at Lochias?
I have seen no model, and I believe that he evolved the whole figure out of his head, replied Pontius.
Impossible, perfectly impossible, cried the Emperor, in the tone of a man who knows well what he is talking about. Such lines, such forms not Praxiteles himself could have invented. He must have seen them, have formed them as he stood face to face with the living copy. We will ask him. What is to be made out of that newly-set-up mass of clay?
Possibly the bust of some princess of the house of the Lagides. To-morrow you shall see a head of Berenice by our young friend, which seems to me to be one of the best things ever done in Alexandria.
And is the lad a proficient in magic? asked Hadrian. It seems to me simply impossible that he should have completed this statue and a womans bust in these few days.
Pontius explained to the Emperor that Pollux had mounted the head on a bust already to hand, and as he answered his questions without reserve, he revealed to him what stupendous exertions of the arts had been called into requisition to give the dilapidated palace a suitable and, in its kind, even brilliant appearance. He frankly confessed that here he was working only for effect, and talked to Hadrian exactly as he would have discussed the same subject with any other fellow-artist.
While the Emperor and the architect were thus eagerly conversing, and the prefect was hearing from Phlegon, the secretary, all the experience of their journey, Pollux reappeared in the hall of the Muses accompanied by his father. The singer carried before him a steaming mess, fresh cakes of bread, and the pasty which a few hours previously he had carried home to his wife from the architects table. Pollux held to his breast a tolerably large two-handled jar full of Mareotic wine, which he had hastily wreathed with branches of ivy.
A few minutes later the Emperor was reclining on a mattress that had been laid for him, and was making his way valiantly through the savory mess. He was in the happiest humor; he called Antinous and his secretary, heaped abundant portions with his own hand on their plates, which he bade them hold out to him, declaring as he did so that it was to prevent their fishing the best of the sausages out of the cabbage for themselves. He also spoke highly of the Mareotic wine. When they came to opening the pasty the expression of his face changed; he frowned and asked the prefect in a suspicious tone, severely and sternly:
How came these people by such a pasty as this?
Where did you get it from? asked the prefect of the singer.
From the banquet which the architect gave to the artists here, answered Euphorion. The bones were given to the Graces and this dish, which had not been touched, to me and my wife. She devoted it with pleasure to Pontius guest.
Titianus laughed and exclaimed:
This then accounts for the total disappearance of the handsome supper which we sent down to the architect. This pasty-allow me to look at itthis pasty was prepared by a recipe obtained from Verus. He invited us to breakfast yesterday and instructed my cook how to prepare it.