“Very well—­go; I do not care the least bit about Roxana and all the dressing-up.”

“Because you are not yet quite awake,” laughed the steward.  “How did this ivy-leaf get into your hair?” Arsinoe colored, put her hand to the spot indicated by her father, and said reluctantly: 

“Out of some bough or another, but now go that I may get up.”

“In a minute—­tell me how did you find Selene?”

“Not so very bad—­but I will tell you all about that afterwards.  Now I want to be alone.”

When, half an hour later, Arsinoe brought her father his porridge he gazed at the child in astonishment.  Some extraordinary change seemed to have come over his daughter.  Something shone in her eyes that he had never observed before, and that gave her childlike features an importance and significance that almost startled him.  While she was making the porridge, Keraunus, with the slave’s help, had taken the children up and dressed them; now they were all sitting at breakfast; Helios among them fresh and blooming.  Now, while Arsinoe told her father all about Selene, and the nursing she was having at dame Hannah’s hands, Keraunus kept his eyes fixed on her, and when she noticed this and asked impatiently what there was peculiar in her appearance to-day, he shook his head and answered: 

“What strange things are girls!  A great honor has been done you.  You are to represent the bride of Alexander, and pride and delight have changed you wonder fully in a single night—­but I think to your disadvantage.”

“Folly,” said Arsinoe reddening, and stretching herself with fatigue she threw herself back on a couch.  She did not feel weary exactly, for the lassitude she felt in every limb had a peculiar pleasure in it.  She felt as if she had come out of a hot bath, and since her father had roused her she seemed to hear, again and again, the sound of the inspiriting music which she had followed arm in arm with Pollux.  Now and again she smiled, now and again she gazed straight before her, and at the same time she said to herself that if at this very moment her lover were to ask her, she would not lack strength to fling herself at once, with him, once more into the mad whirl.  Yes—­she felt perfectly fresh! only her eyes burned a little; and if Keraunus fancied he saw anything new in his daughter it must be the glowing light which now lurked in them along with the playful sparkle he had always seen there.

When breakfast was over the slave took the children out, and Arsinoe had begun to curl her father’s hair, when Keraunus put on his most dignified attitude and said ponderously.

“My child.”

The girl dropped the heated tongs and calmly asked.  “Well”—­fully prepared to hear one of the wonderful propositions which Selene was wont to oppose.

“Listen to me attentively.”

Now, what Keraunus was about to say had only occurred to him an hour since when he had spoiled his slave’s desire to go out; but as he said it he pressed his hand to his forehead assuming the expression of a meditative philosopher.