“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.

“Honorable this, and honorable that!” cried Keraunus, as he tied up his money-bag.  “I know well enough how shameless are the goings on in assemblies of that stamp; kissing and hugging slaves! quite the right sort of thing for my daughter!  Come Arsinoe, let us find a litter at once!”

“No, no!” exclaimed Doris eagerly.  “For the present you must leave her in peace.  I should be glad to conceal it from you as a father—­but the physician declared it might cost her her life if she were not left just now in perfect quiet.  No one goes to any kind of assembly with a burning wound in the head, a high fever and a broken leg.—­Poor dear child!”

Keraunus stood silent in grave consternation, while Arsinoe exclaimed through her tears: 

“But I must go to her, I must see her Doris.”

“That I cannot blame you for, my pretty one,” said the old woman.  I have already been to the house of the Christians, but they would not let me in to see the patient.  With you it is rather different as you are her sister.”

“Come father,” begged Arsinoe, “first let us see to the children, and then you shall come with me to see Selene.  Oh! why did I not go with her.  Oh! if she should die.”