“Good,” replied Papias.  “I will expect you an hour before sunset, and then we will settle every thing,” and without any farewell he turned his back on his pupil and went into the palace.

Pollux had told him that some of the properties, which he had taken without asking permission, had been lost-among them an object of considerable value—­and this perhaps would give him a hold over him by which to prevent his injuring him.  He remained in the palace scarcely half an hour and then, while Pollux was still engaged in escorting his mother and their household goods to his sister’s house, he went to visit the night magistrate, who presided over the safety of Alexandria.  Papias was on intimate terms with this important official, for he had constructed for him a sarcophagus for his deceased wife, an altar with panels in relief for his men’s apartment, and other works, at moderate prices, and he could count on his readiness to serve him.  When he quitted him he carried in his hand an order of arrest against his assistant Pollux, who had attacked his property and abstracted a quiver of massive silver.  The magistrate had also promised him to send two of his guards who would carry the offender off to prison.

Papias went home with a much lighter heart.  His pupil, after he had accomplished the easy transfer of his parents, had returned to the palace, and there, to his delight, came across Mastor, who soon fetched him the garments and masks that he had lent the day before to Hadrian and Antinous.  The Sarmatian at the same time told him, with tears in his eyes, a sad, very sad story, which stirred the young sculptor’s soul deeply, and which would have prompted him to penetrate into the palace at once, and at any risk, if he had not seen the necessity of being with Papias at the appointed hour, which was drawing near, to answer for the valuable property that was missing.  Thinking of nothing, wishing nothing so much as to be back as promptly as possible at Lochias, where he was much needed, and where his heart longed to be, he took the bundle out of the slave’s hand and hurried away.  Papias had sent all his assistants and even his slaves off the premises; he received the breathless Pollux quite alone, and took from him, with icy calmness, the things which had been borrowed from his property-room, asking for them one by one.

“I have already told you,” cried Pollux, “that it is not I, but the illustrious Roman—­you know as well as I do, who he is—­who is answerable for the silver quiver and the torn chiton.”  And he began to tell him how Antinous had commanded him, in the name of his master, to find masks and disguises for them both.  But Papias cut off his speech at the very beginning, and vehemently demanded the restoration of his quiver and bow, of which Pollux could not work out the value in two years.  The young man whose heart and thoughts were at Lochias and who, at any cost, did not want to be detained