Egypt -- History -- 30 B.C.-640 A.D. -- Fiction; German fiction -- Translations into English; Hadrian, Emperor of Rome, 76-138 -- Fiction
The ship-builder’s daughter had already been called before her, and had
immediately left her seat, but Arsinoe waited modestly till some older
ladies rose. She then joined them and went among the last members of the
little procession which went down to the orchestra and from thence up
the steps for the chorus, on to the stage.
There the ladies and young girls were placed in two ranks, and looked
at with amiable consideration by the artists. Arsinoe was not long in
perceiving that these gentlemen looked at her longer and more often
than at the others; and then, after the masters of the festival had gone
aside in groups to discuss the matter they looked at her constantly and
were talking, she felt sure, about her. Nor did it escape her that
she had become the centre of many glances from the lookers-on who were
sitting in the theatre, and it occurred to her that on several sides
people were pointing at her with their fingers. She did not know which
way she should look and began to feel bashful; still she was pleased at
being remarked by so many people, and as she stood looking at the ground
out of sheer embarrassment to hide the delight she felt, Verus, who had
gone up to the group of artists, called out, putting his hand on the
prefect’s arm.
“Charming-charming! a Roxana that might have sprung straight out of the
picture.”
Arsinoe heard these words, and guessing that they referred to her
she became more confused than ever, while her awkward smile gradually
changed to an expression of joyful but anxious expectation of a delight
which was almost painful in its magnitude.
Now one of the artists pronounced her name, and as she ventured to raise
her eyes to see if it were not Pollux who had spoken, she observed the
wealthy Plutarch who, with his two living crutches and Gabinius, the
lean curiosity-dealer, was inspecting the ranks of her companions.
Presently he had come quite close to her, and as he was helped towards
her with tottering steps, he dug the dealer in the ribs and said,
kissing the back of his hand, and winking his great eyes: “I know--I
know! It is not easily forgotten. Ivory and red coral!”
Arsinoe started, the blood left her cheeks, and all satisfaction fled
from her heart when the old man came to a stand-still in front of her,
and said kindly:
“Ah! ah! a bud out of the papyrus factory among all these proud roses
and lilies. Ah! ah! out of my work-rooms to join my assembly! Never
mind-never mind, beauty is everywhere welcome. I do not ask how you got
here. I am only glad that you are here.”
Arsinoe covered part of her face with her hand, but he tapped her white
arm three times with his middle finger, and then tottered on laughing
to himself. The dealer had caught Plutarch’s words, and asked him, when
they had gone a few steps from Arsinoe, with eager indignation:
“Did I hear you rightly? a work-woman in your factory, and here among
our daughters?”
“So it is--two busy hands among so many idle ones,” said the old man,
gaily.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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