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He spoke in a changed voice now; again the navarch was startled. “Is Themistocles on the Nausicaä?” asked the stranger, whilst Cimon gazed on him spellbound, asking if he himself were growing mad. “Yes—but your voice, your face, your manner—my head is dizzy.” The stranger touched him gently on the hand. “Have I so changed, you quite forget me, Cimon?” The son of Miltiades was a strong man.
Affable and courteous none were so mean as to be excluded from his presence; and the triumph he had just achieved so largely swelled his popularity, that the most unhesitating confidence was placed in all his suggestions. In addition to the victory of Marathon, Miltiades, during his tyranny in the Chersonese, had gratified the resentment and increased the dominion of the Athenians.
Cimon, the son of Miltiades, also became a strong opponent. Though acquitted of accepting bribes from Persia, Themistocles was banished by a vote of ostracism, as Aristides had been before—a kind of exile which was not dishonorable, but resorted to from regard to public interests, and to which men who became unpopular were often subjected, whatever may have been their services or merits.
Ross-Ellison to her as he gathered up the reins and, dodging a kick, prepared to mount. This was wrong of him, for Zuleika had never suffered any harm at the hands of General Miltiades Murger, "'eavy-sterned amateur old men" he quoted in a vicious grumble. A wild gallop round the race-course did something to soothe the ruffled spirit of Mr.
Miltiades was a big gobbler now, and had a right to be named Ishmael, for his hand was against all men. He took care of himself, was never shut up nor handled, and led a wild, nomadic life. Last of all came Fisherman Jones.
In a word, it was Greek against Greek at Paros, and Miltiades began at length to perceive that his prospect of success was growing very doubtful and dim.
Not three ships’ lengths behind the Halicarnassian raced the ship of the son of Miltiades. They knew now why Artemisia had veered. Well she might; had she struck the Nausicaä down, her own broadside would have swung defenceless to the fleet pursuer. The Perseus sped past her consort at full speed, Athenian cheering Athenian as she went.
With him was joined an associate of high hereditary name and strong natural abilities, whose character it will shortly become necessary to place in detail before the reader. This comate was no less a person than Cimon, the son of the great Miltiades.
Ages later, after the Persian war, the Delphic oracle bade the Athenians to bring back the bones of Theseus from Scyrus, and bury them splendidly in Attic soil. Cimon, the son of Miltiades, found or pretended to find the hero's tomb, and returned with the famous bones.
On his return he beheld his superb and expensive hunter behaving superbly and expensively in the expert hands of Rissaldar-Major Shere Singh. He feasted his eyes upon it. Suddenly a voice, a voice he disliked intensely, the voice of Mr. Dearman croaked fiendishly in his ear: "Why, General, they've got your horse numbered wrongly!" General Miltiades Murger looked again.
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