With these words the steward lifted his grey brows and his face grew red to the roots of his hair.  Selene shrugged her shoulders, but Arsinoe said: 

“Tryphon’s shipyard lies just below and we often pass it; but we do not know him or his sons.  Have you ever seen them Selene?  At any rate it is polite of him to speak of us as pretty.”

“Nobody need trouble themselves about your appearance unless they want to ask my permission to marry you,” replied the steward with a growl.

“And what did you say to Tryphon?” asked Selene.

“I did as I was obliged.  Your father is steward of a palace which at present belongs to Rome and the Emperor; hence I must receive Hadrian as a guest in this, the dwelling of my fathers, and therefore I, less than any other citizen—­cannot withhold my share in the honors which the city council has decreed shall be paid to him.”

“Then we really may,” said Arsinoe, and she went up to her father to give him a coaxing pat.  But Keraunus was not in the humor to accept caresses; he pushed her aside with an angry:  “Leave me alone,” and then went on: 

“If Hadrian were to ask me ’Where are your daughters on the occasion of the festival?’ and if I had to reply, ’They were not among the daughters of the noble citizens,’ it would be an insult to Caesar, to whom in fact I feel very well disposed.  All this I had to consider, and I gave your names and promised to send you to the great Theatre to the assembly of young girls.  There you will be met by the noblest matrons and maidens of the city, and the first painters and sculptors will decide to what part of the performance your air and appearance are best fitted.”

“But, father,” cried Selene, “we cannot show ourselves in such an assembly in our common garments, and where are we to find the money to buy new ones?”

“We can quite well show ourselves by any other girls, in clean, white woollen dresses, prettily smartened with fresh ribbons,” declared Arsinoe, interposing between her father and her sister.

“It is not that which troubles me,” replied the steward; “it is the costumes, the costumes!  It is only the daughters of the poorer citizens who will be paid by the council, and it would be a disgrace to be numbered among the poor—­you understand me, children.”

“I will not take part in the procession,” said Selene resolutely, but Arsinoe interrupted her.

“It is inconvenient and horrible to be poor, but it certainly is no disgrace!  The most powerful Romans of ancient times, regarded it as honorable to die poor.  Our Macedonian descent remains to us even if the state should pay for our costumes.”

“Silence,” cried the steward.  “This is not the first time that I have detected this low vein of feeling in you.  Even the noble may submit to the misfortunes entailed by poverty, but the advantages it brings with it he can never enjoy unless he resigns himself to being so no longer.”