“But father,” replied Arsinoe, her anxiety once more urging her to speak, “it is a bad thing to have a dishonest man in the house.”

“You know nothing about it child!” answered Keraunus.  “To us to live and to be honest are the same thing, but a slave!—­King Antiochus is said to have declared that the man who wishes to be well served must employ none but rascals.”

When Arsinoe had been tempted out on to the balcony by her lover’s snatch of song and had been driven in again by her father, the steward had not reproved her in any way unkindly, but had stroked her cheeks and said with a smile:  “I rather fancy that lad of the gatekeeper’s—­whom I once turned out of doors has had his eye on you since you were chosen for Roxana.  Poor wretch!  But we have very different suitors in view for you my little girl.  How would it be, think you, if rich Plutarch had sent you those roses, not on his own behalf but as a greeting on the part of his son?  I know that he is very desirous of marrying him but the fastidious man has never yet thought any Alexandrian girl good enough for him.”

“I do not know him, and he does not think of a poor thing like me,” said Arsinoe.

“Do you think not?” asked Keraunus smiling.  “We are of as good family, nay of a better than Plutarch, and the fairest is a match for the wealthiest.  What would you say child to a long flowing purple robe and a chariot with white horses, and runners in front?”

At breakfast Keraunus drank two cups of strong wine, in which he allowed Arsinoe to mix only a few drops of water.  While his daughter was curling his hair a swallow flew into the room; this was a good omen and raised the steward’s spirits.  Dressed in his best and with a well-filled purse, he was on the point of starting for the council-chamber with his new slave when Sophilus the tailor and his girl-assistant were shown into the living-room.  The man begged to be allowed to try the dress, ordered for Roxana by the prefect’s wife, on the steward’s daughter.  Keraunus received him with much condescension and allowed him to bring in the slave who followed him with a large parcel of dresses,—­and Arsinoe, who was with the children, was called.

Arsinoe was embarrassed and anxious and would far rather have yielded her part to another; still, she was curious about the new dresses.  The tailor begged her to allow her maid to dress her; his assistant would help her because the dresses which were only slightly stitched together for trying on, were cut, not in the Greek but in the Oriental fashion.

“Your waiting woman,” he added turning to Arsinoe, “will be able to learn to-day the way to dress you on the great occasion.”

“My daughter’s maid,” said Keraunus, winking slily at Arsinoe, “is not in the house.”

“Oh, I require no help,” cried the tailor’s girl.  “I am handy too at dressing hair, and I am most glad to help such a fair Roxana.”