“We need none, but for you it is necessary.”

“It is of no use, child.  The butcher will not trust us any more, the other creditors press us, and at the end of the month we shall have just ten drachmae left us.”

The girl turned pale, and asked in anxiety: 

“But, father, it was only to-day that you showed me the three gold pieces which you said had been given you as a present out of the money distributed on the arrival of the Empress.”

The steward absently rolled a piece of bread-crumb between his fingers and said: 

“I spent that on this fibula with an incised onyx—­and as cheap as dirt, I can tell you.  If Caesar comes he must see who and what I am; and if I die any one will give you twice as much for it as I paid.  I tell you the Empress’s money was well laid out on the thing.”  Selene made no answer, but she sighed deeply, and her eye glanced at a quantity of useless things which her father had acquired and brought home because they were cheap, while she and her seven sisters wanted the most necessary things.

“Father,” the girl began again after a short silence, “I ought not to go on about it, but even if it vexes you, I must—­the architect, who is settling all the work out there, has sent for you twice already.”

“Be silent!” shouted the fat man, striking his hand on the table.  “Who is this Pontius, and who am I!”

“You are of a noble Macedonian family, related perhaps even to the Ptolemies; you have your seat in the Council of the Citizens—­but do, this time, be condescending and kind.  The man has his hands full, he is tired out.”

“Nor have I been able to sit still the whole day, and what is fitting, is fitting.  I am Keraunus the son of Ptolemy, whose father came into Egypt with Alexander the Great, and helped to found this city, and every one knows it.  Our possessions were diminished; but it is for that very reason that I insist on our illustrious blood being recognized.  Pontius sends to command the presence of Keraunus!  If it were not infuriating it would be laughable—­for who is this man, who?  I have told you his father was a freedman of the former prefect Claudius Balbillus, and by the favor of the Roman his father rose and grew rich.  He is the descendant of slaves, and you expect that I shall be his obedient humble servant, whenever he chooses to call me?”

But father, my dear father, it is not the son of Ptolemy, but the palace-steward that he desires shall go to hire.”

“Mere chop-logic!—­you have nothing to say, not a step do I take to go to him.”

The girl clasped her hands over her face, and sobbed loudly and pitifully.  Keraunus started up and cried out, beside himself.

“By great Serapis.  I can bear this no longer.  What are you whimpering about?”

The girl plucked up courage and going up to the indignant man she said, though more than once interrupted by tears.