The Emperor (Historical Novel). Georg Ebers
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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.
But his eye was not resting on the work before him, but on the marriage-scene at his feet, in which he detected each moment some fresh and unique beauty. As the dealer sat there for some minutes with the little picture on his knee, the steward’s face brightened, Selene drew a deep breath, and Arsinoe went up to her father to cling to his arm and whisper in his ear:
“Do not let him have the Apelles cheap—remember my bracelet.”
Gabinius now rose, glanced at the various objects lying on the table and said in a much shorter and more business-like tone than before:
“For all these things I can give you—wait a minute—twenty-seventy-four hundred—four hundred and fifty—I can give you six hundred and fifty drachmae, not a sesterce more!”
“You are joking,” cried Keraunus.
“Not a sesterce more,” answered the other coldly. “I do not want to make anything, but you as a business man will understand that I do not wish to buy with a certain prospect of loss. As regards the Apelles—”
“Well?”
“It may be of some value to me, but only under certain conditions. The case is quite different as regards buying pictures. Your two young damsels know of course that my line of business leads me to admire and value all that is beautiful, but still I must request you to leave me alone with your father for a little while. I want to speak with him about this curious painting.” Keraunus signed to his daughters, who immediately left the room. Before the door was closed upon them the dealer called after them:
“It is already growing dark, might I ask you to send me as bright a light as possible by one of your slaves.”
“What about the picture?” asked Keraunus.
“Till the light is brought let us talk of something else,” said Gabinius.
“Then take a seat on the couch,” said Keraunus. “You will be doing me a pleasure and perhaps yourself as well.”
As soon as the two men were seated on the divan, Gabinius began:
“Those little things which we have collected with particular liking, we do not readily part with—that I know by long experience. Many a man who has come into some property after he has sold all his little antiquities has offered me ten times the price I have paid him to get them back again, generally in vain, unfortunately. Now, what is true of others is true of you, and if you had not been in immediate need of money you would hardly have offered me these things.”
“I must entreat you,” began the steward, but the dealer interrupted him, saying:
“Even the richest are sometimes in want of ready money; no one knows that better than I, for I—I must confess—have large means at my command. Just at present it would be particularly easy for me to free you from all embarrassment.”
“There stands my Apelles,” exclaimed the steward. “It is yours if you make a bid that suits me.”
“The light—here comes the light!” exclaimed Gabinius, taking from the slave’s hand the three-branched lamp which Selene had hastily supplied with a fresh wick, and he placed it, while he murmured to Keraunus, “By your leave,” down on the centre of the mosaic. The steward looked at the man on his left hand, with puzzled inquiry, but Gabinius heeded him not but went down on his knees again, felt the mosaic over with his hand, and devoured the picture of the marriage of Peleus with his eyes.
“Have you lost anything?” asked Keraunus.
“No-nothing whatever. There in the corner—now I am satisfied. Shall I place the lamp there, on the table? So—and now to return to business.”
“I beg to do so, but I may as well begin by telling you that in my case it is a question not of drachmae but of Attic talents.”—(The Attic talent was worth about £200, or $1000 dollars.)
“That is a matter of course, and I will offer you five; that is to say a sum for which you could buy a handsome roomy house.”
Once more the blood mounted to the steward’s head; for a few minutes he could not utter a word, for his heart thumped violently; but presently be so far controlled himself as to be able to answer. This time at any rate, he was determined to seize Fortune by the forelock and not to be taken advantage of, so he said:
“Five talents will not do; bid higher.”
“Then let us say six.”
“If you say double that we are agreed.”
“I cannot put it beyond ten talents; why, for that sum you might build a small palace.”
“I stand out for twelve.”
“Well, be it so, but not a sesterce more.”
“I cannot bear to part with my splendid work of art,” sighed Keraunus. “But I will take your offer, and give you my Apelles.”
“It is not that picture I am dealing for,” replied Gabinius. “It is of trifling value, and you may continue to enjoy the possession of it. It is another work of art in this room that I wish to have, and which has hitherto seemed to you scarcely worth notice. I have discovered it, and one of my rich customers has asked me to find him just such a thing.”
“I do not know what it is.”
“Does everything in this room belong to you?”
“Whom else should it belong to?”
“Then you may dispose of it as you please?”
“Undoubtedly.”
“Very well, then—the twelve Attic talents which I offer you are to be paid for the picture that is under our feet.”
“The mosaic! that? It belongs to the palace.”
“It belongs to your residence, and that, I heard you say yourself, has been inhabited for more than a century by your forefathers. I know the law; it pronounces that everything which has remained in undisputed possession in one family, for a hundred years, becomes their property.”
“This mosaic belongs to the palace.”
“I assert the contrary. It is an integral portion of your family dwelling, and you may freely dispose of it.”
“It belongs to the palace.”
“No, and again no; you are the owner. Tomorrow morning early you shall receive twelve Attic talents in gold, and, with the help of my son, later in the day I will take up the picture, pack it, and when it grows dark, carry it away. Procure a carpet to cover the empty place for the present. As to the secrecy of the transaction—I must of course insist on it as strongly—and more so—than yourself.”
“The mosaic belongs to the palace,” cried the steward, this time in a louder voice, “Do you hear? it belongs to the palace, and whoever dares touch it, I will break his bones.”
As he spoke Keraunus stood up, his huge chest panting, his cheeks and forehead dyed purple, and his fist, which he held in the dealer’s face, was trembling. Gabinius drew back startled, and said:
“Then you will not have the twelve talents!”
“I will—I will!” gasped Keraunus, “I will show you how I beat those who take me for a rogue. Out of my sight, villain, and let me hear