“No,” answered Helios, “but I feel so sick.”

The steward opened the child’s little shirt to see if he had any spots on his breast, but Arsinoe said, as she bent over him: 

“It is nothing much, he has only overloaded his stomach.  The stupid old woman gives him every thing he asks for, and she let him have half of the currant cake, which we sent her to fetch before we went out.”

“But his head is burning,” repeated Keraunus.

“He will be quite well again by to-morrow morning,” replied Arsinoe.  “Our poor Selene needs us far snore than he does.  Come father.  The old woman can stay with him.”

“I want Selene to come,” whimpered the child.  “Pray, pray, do not leave me alone again.”

“Your old father will stay with you my pet,” said Keraunus tenderly, for it cut him to the soul to see this child suffer.  “You none of you know what this boy is to us all.”

“He will soon go to sleep,” Arsinoe asserted.  “Do let us go, or it will be too late.”

“And leave the old woman to commit some other stupid blunder?” cried Keraunus.  “It is my duty to stay with the poor little boy.  You can go to your sister and take the old woman with you.”

“Very good, and to-morrow early I will come back.”

“To-morrow morning?” said Keraunus surprised.  “No, no, that will not do.  Doris said just now that Selene will be well nursed by the Christians.  Only see how she is, give her my love, and then come back.”

“But father—­”

“Besides you must remember that the prefect’s wife expects you to-morrow at noon to choose the stuff for your dress, and you must not look as if you had been sitting up all night.”

“I will rest a little while in the morning.”

“In the morning?  And how about curling my hair?  And your new frock?  And poor little Helios?—­No child, you are only just to see Selene and then come back again.  Early in the morning too the holiday will have begun, and you know what goes on then; the old woman would be of no use to you in the throng.  Go and see how Selene is, you are not to stay.”

“I will see—­”

“Not a word about seeing—­you come home again.  I desire it; in two hours you are to be in bed.”

Arsinoe shrugged her shoulders, and two minutes after she was standing with the old slave-woman in front of the gate-house.

A broad beam of light still fell through the half-open door of the bowery little room, so Euphorion and Doris had not retired to rest and could at once open the palace-gate for her.  The Graces set up a bark as Arsinoe crossed the threshold of her old friends’ house, but they did not leave their cushion for they soon recognized her.