Many of his fellow-slaves, too, he had heard called Christian idiots, but still not unfrequently very reasonable men, and sometimes even Hadrian himself, had taken the part of the Christians.
This was the first time that Mastor had heard from their own lips what they believed and hoped, and now, while fulfilling his duties he could hardly bear the delay before he could once more seek out the old pavement-worker, to enquire of him, and to have the hopes confirmed which his words had aroused in his soul.
No sooner had Hadrian and Antinous gone into the living-room than Mastor had hastened off across the court to find the Christians.

There he tried to open a conversation with the overseer concerning his faith, but the old man answered that there was a season for everything; just now he could not interrupt the work, but that he might come again after sundown, and that he then would tell him of Him who had promised to refresh the sorrow-laden.
Mastor thought no more of making his escape.

When he appeared again in his master's presence there was such a sunny light in his blue eyes that Hadrian left the angry words he had prepared for him unspoken, and cried to Antinous, laughing and pointing to the slave: "I really believe the rascal has consoled himself already, and found a new mate.

Let us, too, follow the precept of Horace, so far as we may, and enjoy the present day.

The poet may let the future go as it will, but I cannot, for, unfortunately, I am the Emperor." "And Rome may thank the gods that you are," replied Antinous.
"What happy phrases the boy hits upon sometimes," said Hadrian with a laugh, and he stroked the lad's brown curls.