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They praise him as ‘fair as Delian Apollo,’ ‘graceful as young Hermes,’ and—here I wonder most,—‘modest as an unwedded girl.’ ” Simonides drew breath, then faced the others earnestly, “You are Athenians; do you know him?” “Know him?” Cimon laughed heartily; “have we not left him at the wrestling ground? Was not Democrates his schoolfellow once, his second self to-day?
I shudder when I think of what may be its contents.” “And—this—from—you! Oh,—Democrates,—” The accused man’s hands snatched at the air. He sank upon a chest. “He does not deny it,” threw out the orator, but Glaucon’s voice rang shrilly:— “Ever! Ever will I deny! Though the Twelve Gods all cried out ‘guilty!’ The charge is monstrous.”
“None, indeed,” crackled Lampaxo; “didn’t I see that cursed Babylonian with his servants gliding out just as Bias entered? Zeus knows whither! I hope ere dawn Democrates has them by the heels.”
“Hush!” Democrates spilled the cup as he started. “No ‘Medizing’ talk before me. Am I not Themistocles’s friend?” “Themistocles and Leonidas will seem valiant fools after Xerxes comes. Men of foresight—” “Are never traitors.” “Beloved Democrates,” sneered the Spartan, “in one year the most patriotic Hellene will be he who has made the Persian yoke the most endurable. Don’t blink at destiny.”
And here are twenty more. Then the papyri,”—he unrolled them lovingly, one after another,—“precious specimens, are they not? Ah, by Zeus, I must be a very merciful and pious man, or I’d have used that dreadful power heaven has given me and never have drifted into these straits.” What that “power” was with which Democrates felt himself endued he did not even whisper to himself.
“Glaucon does no such folly,” spoke Democrates, instantly, from the bow; “if the harbour-watch doesn’t interfere with honest traders, what’s it to us?” “As you like it.” Themistocles resumed his seat. “Yet it would do no harm. Now they row to another trireme. With what falcon eyes the master of the trio examines it! Something uncanny, I repeat.”
He never screamed as he crashed upon the planks. This was enough. The seamen were at the end of their valour. If they must die, they must die. What use resisting destiny? Slowly, slowly the moments crept for the three in the cabin. Even Lampaxo grew still. They heard Hiram pleading frantically, vainly, for another attempt, and raving strange things about Democrates, Lycon, and the Persian.
Yes! the house of Athena on the Acropolis shall be your palace if you will, and they will cry in the Agora, ‘Way, way for Hermione, glorious consort of Democrates our king!’ ” “Sir,” spoke Hermione, while her hands grew chill, for now she was sure he raved, “I have not the joy to comprehend. There is no king in Athens, please Athena, there never will be.
Leave Athens to-morrow or all is lost. The confusion accompanying the festival will then make escape easy. The man to whom I entrust this letter will devise with Hiram the means for your flight by ship from the havens. May our paths never cross again!—Chaire.” After Agis was gone the old trembling came again to Democrates. He had Bias light all the lamps.
Phormio never reviled his wife as the author of their calamity, and Lampaxo, with nigh childish earnestness, would protest that surely Democrates knew not what the sailors did when they bound her. “So noble a patriot! An evil god bewitched him into letting these harpies take us. Woe! woe! What misfortune!” To which plaint the others only smiled horribly and ground their teeth.
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