him in a condescending tone that he was tired of his little possessions, that he could just as well keep them as part with them; he merely wanted to show them to him as a connoisseur and would only part with them if a good round sum were offered for what was in fact idle capital.  One piece after another passed through the dealer’s slender fingers, or was placed before him that he might contemplate it; but the man spoke not, and only shook his head as he examined every fresh object.  And when Keraunus told him whence this or that specimen of his treasures had been obtained, he only murmured—­“Indeed” or “Really.”

“Do you think so?” After the last piece of property had passed through his hands, the steward asked: 

“Well, what do you think of them?”

The beginning of the sentence was spoken confidently, the end almost in fear, for the dealer only smiled and shook his head again before he said: 

“There are some genuine little things among them, but nothing worth speaking of.  I advise you to keep them, because you have an affection for them, while I could get very little by them.”

Keraunus avoided looking towards Selene, whose large eyes, full of dread, had been fixed on the dealer’s lips; but Arsinoe, who had followed his movements with no less attention, was less easily discouraged, and pointing to her father’s Apelles, she said:  And that picture, is that worth nothing?”

“It grieves me that I cannot tell so fair a damsel that it is inestimably valuable,” said the dealer, stroking his gray whiskers.  “But we have here only a very feeble copy.  The original is in the Villa belonging to Phinius on the Lake of Larius, and which he calls Cothurnus.  I have no use whatever for this piece.”

“And this carved cup?” asked Keraunus.  “It came from among the possessions of Plutarch, as I can prove, and it is said to have been the gift of the Emperor Trajan.”

“It is the prettiest thing in your collection,” replied Gabinius; “but it is amply paid for with four hundred drachmae.”

“And this cylinder from Cyprus, with the elegant incised work?” The steward was about to take up the polished crystal, but his hand was trembling with agitation and pushed instead of lifting it from the table.  It rolled away on the floor and across the smooth mosaic picture as far as the couches.  Keraunus was about to stoop to pick it up, but his daughters both held him back, and Selene cried out: 

“Father, you must not; the physician strictly forbade it.”

While the steward pushed the girls away grumbling, the dealer had gone down on his knees to pick up the cylinder, but it seemed to cost the slightly-built man much less effort to stoop than to get up again, for some minutes had elapsed before he once more stood on his feet, in front of Keraunus.  His countenance had put on an expression of eager attention, and he once more took up the painting attributed to Apelles, sat down with it on the couch, and appeared wholly absorbed in the contemplation of the picture, which hid his face from the bystanders.