Usually when Selene went out walking, many people looked at her with admiration, but to-day a couple of street-boys composed her escort.  They ran after her calling out impudently, ‘dot, and go one,’ and tried ruthlessly to snatch at the loosely-tied sandal on her injured foot, which tapped the pavement at every step.  While Selene was thus making her way with cruel pain, satisfaction and happiness had visited Arsinoe; for hardly had Selene and Antinous quitted her father’s apartments, when Hiram begged her to show him the little bottle which the handsome youth had just given her.  The dealer turned it over and over in the sunlight, tested its ring, tried to scratch it with the stone in his ring, and then muttered, “Vasa Murrhma.”

The words did not escape the girl’s sharp ears, and she had heard her father say that the costliest of all the ornamental vessels with which the wealthy Romans were wont to decorate their reception-rooms, were those called Vasa Murrhina; so she explained to him at once, that she knew what high prices were paid for such vases, and that she had no mind to sell it cheaply.  He began to bid, she laughingly demanded ten times the price, and after a long battle between the dealer and the owner, fought now half in jest, and now in grave earnest, the Phoenician said: 

“Two thousand drachmae; not a sesterce more.”  That is not enough by a long way, but then it is yours.”

“I would hardly have given half to a less fair customer.”

“And I only let you have it because you are such a polite man.”

“I will send you the money before sundown.”

At these words the girl, who had been radiant with surprise and delight, and who would have liked to throw her arms round the bald-headed merchant’s neck, or round that of her old slave, who was even less attractive, or for that matter, would have embraced the world—­the triumphant girl became thoughtful; her father would certainly come home ere long, and she could not conceal from herself that he would disapprove of the whole proceeding, and would probably send the phial back to the young man, and the money to the dealer.  She herself would never have asked the stranger for the bottle if she had had the slightest suspicion of its value; but now it certainly belonged to her, and if she had given it back again she would have given no one any pleasure; on the contrary, she would have offended the stranger, and probably have lost the greatest pleasure that she had ever enjoyed.

What was to be done now?  She was still perched on the table; she had taken her left foot in her right hand, and sitting in this quaint position, she looked down on the ground as gravely as if she were trying to find an idea, or a way out of the difficulty, in the pattern on the floor.

The dealer for a moment amused himself in studying her bewilderment, which he thought charming—­only wishing that his son, a young painter, were standing in his place.  At last he broke the silence however, saying: