“People have seen,” he said, pathetically, “that we need not shrink from doing as much as other citizens do, but to dress a Roxana as befits a bride would cost millions, and I am very willing to confess to my friends that I have not millions.  Where the costume comes from is all the same, be that as it may you will still stand the first of all the maidens in the city, and I am pleased with you for that, my child.  To-morrow will be the last meeting, and then perhaps Selene too, may have a prominent part given to her.  Happily we are able to dress her as befits.  When will the prefect’s wife fetch you?”

“To-morrow about noon.”

“Then early to-morrow buy a nice new dress.”

“Will there not be enough for a new bracelet too?” asked Arsinoe, coaxingly.  “This one of mine is too narrow and trumpery.”

“You shall have one, for you have deserved it,” replied Keraunus, with dignity.  “But you must have patience till the day after to-morrow; to-morrow the goldsmiths will be closed on account of the festival.”

Arsinoe had never seen her father so cheerful and talkative as he was to-day, and yet the walk from the theatre to Lochias was not a very short one, and it was long past the early hour at which he was accustomed to retire to bed.

By the time the father and daughter reached the palace it was already tolerably late, for, after Arsinoe had quitted the stage, suitable representatives of parts had been selected for three other scenes from the life of Alexander, by the light of torches, lamps and tapers; and before the assemblage broke up, Plutarch’s guests were entertained with wine, fruit, syrups, sweet cakes, oyster pasties, and other delicacies.  The steward had fallen with good will on the noble drink and excellent food, and when he was replete, he was wont to be in a better humor, and after a modicum of wine, in a more cheerful mood than usual.  Just now he was content and kind, for although he had done all that lay in his power, the entertainment had not lasted long enough, for him to arrive at a state of intoxication which could make him surly, or to overload his digestion.  Towards the end of their walk, he turned thoughtful and said: 

“To-morrow the council does not sit on account of the festival, and that is well; all the world will congratulate me, question me, and notice me, and the gilding on my circlet is quite shabby; and in some places the silver shines through.  Your outfit will now cost nothing, and it is quite necessary that before the next meeting I should go to a goldsmith and exchange that wretched thing for one of real gold.  A man should show what he is.”

He spoke the words pompously, and Arsinoe eagerly acquiesced, and only begged him, as they went in at the open door, to leave enough for Selene’s costume; he laughed quietly to himself, and said: 

“We need no longer be so very cautious.  I should like to know who the Alexander will be who will be the first to ask for my Roxana as his wife.  Rich old Plutarch’s only son already has a seat in the council, and has not yet taken a wife.  He is no longer very young, but he is a fine man still.”