“And this carved cup?” asked Keraunus.  “It came from among the possessions of Plutarch, as I can prove, and it is said to have been the gift of the Emperor Trajan.”

“It is the prettiest thing in your collection,” replied Gabinius; “but it is amply paid for with four hundred drachmae.”

“And this cylinder from Cyprus, with the elegant incised work?” The steward was about to take up the polished crystal, but his hand was trembling with agitation and pushed instead of lifting it from the table.  It rolled away on the floor and across the smooth mosaic picture as far as the couches.  Keraunus was about to stoop to pick it up, but his daughters both held him back, and Selene cried out: 

“Father, you must not; the physician strictly forbade it.”

While the steward pushed the girls away grumbling, the dealer had gone down on his knees to pick up the cylinder, but it seemed to cost the slightly-built man much less effort to stoop than to get up again, for some minutes had elapsed before he once more stood on his feet, in front of Keraunus.  His countenance had put on an expression of eager attention, and he once more took up the painting attributed to Apelles, sat down with it on the couch, and appeared wholly absorbed in the contemplation of the picture, which hid his face from the bystanders.

But his eye was not resting on the work before him, but on the marriage-scene at his feet, in which he detected each moment some fresh and unique beauty.  As the dealer sat there for some minutes with the little picture on his knee, the steward’s face brightened, Selene drew a deep breath, and Arsinoe went up to her father to cling to his arm and whisper in his ear: 

“Do not let him have the Apelles cheap—­remember my bracelet.”

Gabinius now rose, glanced at the various objects lying on the table and said in a much shorter and more business-like tone than before: 

“For all these things I can give you—­wait a minute—­twenty-seventy-four hundred—­four hundred and fifty—­I can give you six hundred and fifty drachmae, not a sesterce more!”

“You are joking,” cried Keraunus.

“Not a sesterce more,” answered the other coldly.  “I do not want to make anything, but you as a business man will understand that I do not wish to buy with a certain prospect of loss.  As regards the Apelles—­”

“Well?”

“It may be of some value to me, but only under certain conditions.  The case is quite different as regards buying pictures.  Your two young damsels know of course that my line of business leads me to admire and value all that is beautiful, but still I must request you to leave me alone with your father for a little while.  I want to speak with him about this curious painting.”  Keraunus signed to his daughters, who immediately left the room.  Before the door was closed upon them the dealer called after them: 

“It is already growing dark, might I ask you to send me as bright a light as possible by one of your slaves.”