"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—"
"I myself saw how innocently you came by the phial," said the dealer, "and Keraunus never need know anything about such a trifle. Fancy yourself, that you have broken it, and that the pieces are lying at the bottom of the sea. Which of all these things does your father value least?"
"This old sword of Antony," answered the child, her face brightening once more. "He says it is much too long, and too slender to be what it pretends to be. For my part I do not believe that it is a sword at all, but a roasting-spit."
"I shall apply it to that very purpose to-morrow morning in my kitchen," said the dealer, "but I offer you two thousand drachmae for it, and will take it with me and send you the amount in a few hours. Will that do?"
Arsinoe dropped her foot, glided from the table, and instead of answering, clapped her hands with glee.
"Only tell him," continued Hiram, "that I am able just now to pay so much for this kind of thing, because Caesar is certain to look about him for the things that belonged to Julius Caesar, Marc Antony, Octavianus, Augustus, and other great Romans who have lived in Egypt. The old woman there may bring the spit after me. My slave is waiting outside, and can hide it under his chiton as far as my kitchen door, for if he carried it openly the connoisseurs passing by might covet the priceless treasure, and we must protect ourselves from the evil eye."
The dealer laughed, took the little bottle into his own keeping, gave the sword to the old woman, and then took a friendly leave of the young girl.