The steward did not redden this time, he was not even violent; on the contrary, he simply raised his head and compared his daughters as they stood—­not without an infusion of satisfaction.  He was accustomed to love his daughters in his own way, Selene as the useful one, and Arsinoe as the beauty; and as on this occasion all he cared for was to satisfy his vanity, and as this end could be attained through his younger daughter alone, he said: 

“Stay with the children then, for all I care.  We will excuse you on the score of weak health, and certainly, child, you do look extremely pale.  I would far rather find the means for the little one only.”

Two sweet dimples again began to show in Arsinoe’s cheeks, but Selene’s lips were as white as her bloodless cheeks as she exclaimed: 

“But, father—­father! neither the baker nor the butcher has had a coin paid him for the last two months, and you will squander seven hundred drachmae!”

“Squander!” cried Keraunus indignantly, but still in a tone of disgust rather than anger.  “I have already forbidden you to speak to me in that way.  The richest of our noble youths will take part in the games; Arsinoe is handsome and perhaps one of them may choose her for his wife.  And do you call it squandering, when a father does his utmost to find a suitable husband for his daughter.  After all, what do you know of what I may possess?”

“We have nothing, so I cannot know of it,” cried the girl beside herself.

“Indeed!” drawled Keraunus with an embarrassed smile.  “And is that nothing which lies in the cup board there, and stands on the cornice shelf?  For your sakes I will part with these—­the onyx fibula, the rings, the golden chaplet, and the girdle of course.”

“They are of mere silver-gilt!” Selene interrupted, ruthlessly.  “All my grandfather’s real gold you parted with when my mother died.”

She had to be cremated and buried as was due to our rank,” answered Keraunus; “but I will not think now of those melancholy days.”

“Nay, do think of them, father.”

“Silence!  All that belongs to my own adornment of course I cannot do without, for I must be prepared to meet Caesar in a dress befitting my rank; but the little bronze Eros there must be worth something, Plutarch’s ivory cup, which is beautifully carved, and above all, that picture; its former possessor was convinced that it had been painted by Apelles himself herein Alexandria.  You shall know at once what these little things are worth, for, as the gods vouchsafed, on my way home I met, here in the palace, Gabinius of Nicaea, the dealer in such objects.  He promised me that when he had done his business with the architect he would come to me to inspect my treasures, and to pay money down for anything that might suit him.  If my Apelles pleases him, he will give ten talents for that alone, and if he buys it for only the half or even the tenth of that sum, I will make you enjoy yourself for once, Selene.”