The radiant father’s dream of the future was interrupted by Doris, who came out of the gate-house and called him by his name.  Keraunus stood still.  When the old woman went on: 

“I must speak with you.”

He answered, repellently:  “But I shall not listen to you—­neither now nor at any time.”

“It was certainly not for my pleasure,” retorted Doris, “that I called to you; I have only to tell you that you will not find your daughter Selene at home.”

“What do you say?” cried Keraunus.

“I say that the poor girl with her damaged foot could at last walk no farther, and that she had to be carried into a strange house where she is being taken care of.”

“Selene!” cried Arsinoe, falling from all her clouds of happiness, startled and grieved—­“do you know where she is?”

Before Doris could reply, Keraunus stormed out: 

“It is all the fault of the Roman architect and his raging beast of a dog.  Very good! very good! now Caesar will certainly help me to my rights.  He will give a lesson to those who throw Roxana’s sister into a sick-bed, and hinder her from taking any part in the processions.  Very good! very good indeed!”

“It is sad enough to cry over!” said the gatekeeper’s wife, indignantly.  “Is this the thanks she gets for all her care of her little brothers and sisters!  Only to think that a father can speak so, when his best child is lying with a broken leg, helpless among strangers!”

“With a broken leg,” whimpered Arsinoe.

“Broken!” repeated Keraunus slowly, and now sincerely anxious.  “Where can I find her?”

“At dame Hannah’s little house at the bottom of the garden belonging to the widow of Pudeus.”

“Why did they not bring her here?”

“Because the physician forbade it.  She is in a fever, but she is well cared for.  Hannah is one of the Christians.  I cannot bear the people, but they know how to nurse the sick better than any one.”

“With Christians! my child is with Christians!” shrieked Keraunus, beside himself.  “At once Arsinoe, at once come with me; Selene shall not stay a moment longer among that accursed rabble.  Eternal gods! besides all our other troubles this disgrace too!”

“Nay, it is not so bad as that,” said Doris soothingly.  “There are very estimable folks even among the Christians.  At any rate they are certainly honorable, for the poor hunch-backed creature who first brought the bad news gave me this little bag of money which dame Hannah had found in Selene’s pocket.”

Keraunus took his daughter’s hard-won wages as contemptuously as though he was quite accustomed to gold, and thought nothing of more wretched silver; but Arsinoe began to cry at the sight of the drachmae, for she knew it was for the sake of that money that Selene had left her home, and could divine what frightful pain she must have suffered on the way.