“We are sorry for your sake if the transaction was unsuccessful,” Verus again interposed, this time with excessive politeness.  “Now, first let us decide on the persons and afterwards on the costumes.  The father of the girl is a Roman citizen then?”

“A member of the council, and in his way a man of position,” replied Titianus.

“And I,” added his wife Julia, “have taken a great fancy to the sweet little maid, and if the principal part is given to her, and her noble father is without adequate means, as you assert my friend, I will undertake to provide for her costume.  Caesar will be charmed with such a Roxana.”

The dealer’s clients were silent, he himself was trembling with disappointment and vexation, and his fury rose to the utmost when Plutarch, whom till then he thought he had won over to his daughter’s side, tried to bow his bent old body before dame Julia, and said with a graceful gesture of regret: 

“My old eyes have deceived me again on this occasion.  The little girl is very like one of my workwomen; very like—­but I see now that there is a certain something which the other lacks.  I have done her an injustice and remain her debtor.  Permit, me, noble lady to add the ornaments to the dress you provide for our Roxana.  I may be lucky enough to find something pretty for her.  A sweet child!  I shall go at once and beg her forgiveness and tell her what we propose.  May I do so noble Julia?  Have I your permission gentlemen?”

In a very few minutes it was known all over the stage, and soon after all through the amphitheatre, that Arsinoe, the daughter of Keraunus, had been selected to represent the character of Roxana.

“But who was Keraunus?”

“How was it that the children of the most illustrious and wealthy citizens had been overlooked in assigning this most prominent part?”

“This was just what might be expected when every thing was left to those reckless artists!”

“And where was a poor little girl like that to find the talents which it would cost to procure the costume of an Asiatic princess, Alexander’s bride?”

“Plutarch, and the prefect’s wife had undertaken that.”

“A mere beggar.”

“How well the family jewels would have suited our daughters!”

“Do we want to show Caesar nothing but a few silly pretty faces?—­and not something of our wealth and taste?”

“Supposing Hadrian asks who this Roxana is, and had to be told that a collection had to be made to get her a proper costume.”

“Such things never could happen anywhere but in Alexandria.”

“Every one wants to know whether she worked in Plutarch’s factory.  They say it is not true—­but the painted old villain still loves a pretty face.  He smuggled her in, you may be sure; where there is smoke there is fire, and it is beyond a doubt that she gets money from the old man.”

“What for?”

“Ah! you had better enquire of a priest of Aphrodite.  It is nothing to laugh at, it is scandalous, audacious!”