He answered, repellently: "But I shall not listen to you—neither now nor at any time."
"It was certainly not for my pleasure," retorted Doris, "that I called to you; I have only to tell you that you will not find your daughter Selene at home."
"What do you say?" cried Keraunus.
"I say that the poor girl with her damaged foot could at last walk no farther, and that she had to be carried into a strange house where she is being taken care of."
"Selene!" cried Arsinoe, falling from all her clouds of happiness, startled and grieved—"do you know where she is?"
Before Doris could reply, Keraunus stormed out:
"It is all the fault of the Roman architect and his raging beast of a dog. Very good! very good! now Caesar will certainly help me to my rights. He will give a lesson to those who throw Roxana's sister into a sick-bed, and hinder her from taking any part in the processions. Very good! very good indeed!"
"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?"