“I would hardly have given half to a less fair customer.”
“And I only let you have it because you are such a polite man.”
“I will send you the money before sundown.”
At these words the girl, who had been radiant with surprise and delight, and who would have liked to throw her arms round the bald-headed merchant’s neck, or round that of her old slave, who was even less attractive, or for that matter, would have embraced the world—the triumphant girl became thoughtful; her father would certainly come home ere long, and she could not conceal from herself that he would disapprove of the whole proceeding, and would probably send the phial back to the young man, and the money to the dealer. She herself would never have asked the stranger for the bottle if she had had the slightest suspicion of its value; but now it certainly belonged to her, and if she had given it back again she would have given no one any pleasure; on the contrary, she would have offended the stranger, and probably have lost the greatest pleasure that she had ever enjoyed.
What was to be done now? She was still perched on the table; she had taken her left foot in her right hand, and sitting in this quaint position, she looked down on the ground as gravely as if she were trying to find an idea, or a way out of the difficulty, in the pattern on the floor.
The dealer for a moment amused himself in studying her bewilderment, which he thought charming—only wishing that his son, a young painter, were standing in his place. At last he broke the silence however, saying:
“Your father, perhaps, will not agree to our bargain; and yet it is for him you want the money?”
“Who says so?”
“Would he have offered me his own treasures if he had not wanted money?”
“It is only—I can—only—” stammered Arsinoe, who was unaccustomed to falsehood. “—I would merely not confess to him—”