Democrates drew a step nearer.

"Ah! Hera, Artemis, Aphrodite the Golden-by what name shall I call my G.o.ddess?" Hermione drew back a step. There was danger in his eyes. "I have loved you, loved you long. Before Glaucon took you in marriage I loved you. But Eros and Hymen hearkened to his prayers, not mine. You became his bride. I wore a bright face at your wedding. You remember I was Glaucon's groomsman, and rode beside you in the bridal car. You loved him, he seemed worthy of you. Therefore I trod my own grief down into my heart, and rejoiced with my friends. But to cease loving you I could not. Truly they say Eros is the strongest G.o.d, and pitiless-do not the poets say b.l.o.o.d.y Ares begat him-"

"Spare me mythologies," interposed Hermione, with another step back.

"As you will, but you shall hearken. I have desired this moment for two years. Not as the weak girl given by her father, but as the fair G.o.ddess who comes to me gladly, I do desire you. And I know you will smile on me when you have heard me through."

"Keep back your eloquence. You have destroyed Glaucon. That is enough."

"Hear me." Democrates cried desperately now. Hermione feared even to retreat farther, lest he pa.s.s to violence. She summoned courage and looked him in the eye.

"Say on, then. But remember I am a woman and alone save for Cleopis. If you profess to love me, you will not forget that."

But Democrates was pa.s.sing almost beyond the limits of coherent speech.

"Oh, when you come to me, you will not know what a price I have paid for you. In Homer's day men wooed their wives with costly gifts, but I-have I not paid for you with my soul? My soul, I say-honour, friendship, country, what has weighed against Himeros, 'Master Desire,'-the desire ever for you!"

She hardly understood him, his speech flowed so thick. She knew he was on the edge of reason, and feared to answer lest she drive beyond it.

"Do you hear the price I have paid? Do you still look on in cold hate, lady? Ah, by Zeus, even in your coldest, most forbidding mood you are fair as the Paphian when she sprang above the sea! And I will win you, lady, I will win your heart, for they shall do you homage, even all Athens, and I will make you a queen. 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. Treason and blasphemy you speak all in one." She sought vainly with her eyes for refuge. None in sight. The hill slope seemed empty save for the scattered brown boulders. Far away a goat was wandering. She motioned to Cleopis. The old woman was staring now, and doubtless thought Democrates was carrying his familiarities too far, but she was a weak creature, and at best could only scream.

"Treason and blasphemy," cried Democrates, dropping on his knees, his frame shaking with dishonest pa.s.sion, "yes! call them so now. They will be blessed truth for me in a month, for me, for you. Hermes the Trickster is a mighty G.o.d. He has befriended Eros. I shall possess Athens and possess you. I shall be the most fortunate mortal upon earth as now I am most miserable. Ah! but I have waited so long." He sprang to his feet. "Tarry, _makaira_, tarry! A kiss!"

Hermione screamed at last shrilly and turned to fly. Instantly Democrates was upon her. In that fluttering white dress escape was hopeless.

"Apollo pursuing Daphne!"-his crazed shout as his arms closed around her,-"but Daphne becomes no laurel this time. Her race is lost. She shall pay the forfeit."

She felt him seize her girdle. He swung her face to face. She saw his wide eyes, his mad smile. His hot breath smote her cheek. Cleopis at last was screaming.

"Mine," he triumphed, while he forced her resisting head to his own, "there is none to hinder!"

But even while the woman's flesh crept back at his impure kiss, a giant power came rending the twain apart. A man had sundered them, sprung from the ground or from heaven belike, or from behind a boulder? He tore Democrates's hands away as a lion tears a lamb. He dashed the mad orator p.r.o.ne upon the sod, and kicked him twice, as of mingled hatred and contempt. All this Hermione only knew in half, while her senses swam. Then she came to herself enough to see that the stranger was a young man in a sailor's loose dress, his features almost hidden under the dishevelled hair and beard. All this time he uttered no word, but having smitten Democrates down, leaped back, rubbing his hands upon his thigh, as if despising to touch so foul an object. The orator groaned, staggered upward. He wore a sword. It flew from its scabbard as he leaped on the sailor. The stranger put forth his hand, s.n.a.t.c.hed his opponent's wrist, and with lightning dexterity sent the blade spinning back upon the gra.s.s.

Then he threw Democrates a second time, and the latter did not rise again hastily, but lay cursing. The fall had not been gentle.

But all this while Cleopis was screaming. People were hastening up the hill,-fishermen from a skiff upon the beach, slaves who had been carrying bales to the haven. In a moment they would be surrounded by a dozen. The strange sailor turned as if to fly. He had not spoken one word. Hermione herself at last called to him.

"My preserver! Your name! Blessed be you forever!"

The fisherfolk were very close. Cleopis was still screaming. The sailor looked once into the lady's eyes.

"I am nameless! You owe me nothing!" And with that he was gone up the hill slopes, springing with long bounds that would have mocked pursuing, had any attempted. But Cleopis quenched her outcry instantly; her screams had been drowned by a louder scream from Hermione, who fell upon the greensward, no marble whiter than her face. The nurse ran to her mistress.

Democrates staggered to his feet. Whatever else the chastis.e.m.e.nt had given him, it had restored his balance of mind. He told the fisherfolk a glib story that a sailor wandering along the strand had accosted Hermione, that he himself had chased the villain off, but had tripped whilst trying to follow. If the tale was not of perfect workmanship at all points, there was no one with interest to gainsay it. A few ran up the hill slope, but the sailor was nowhere in sight. Hermione was still speechless. They made a litter of oars and sail-cloth and carried her to her mother. Democrates oiled Cleopis's palm well, that she should tell nothing amiss to Lysistra.

It was a long time before Hermione opened her eyes in her chamber. Her first words were:-

"Glaucon! I have seen Glaucon!"

"You have had a strange dream, _philotata_," soothed Lysistra, shifting the pillows, "lie still and rest."

But Hermione shook her shining brown head and repeated, many times:-

"No dream! No dream! I have seen Glaucon face to face. In that instant he spoke and looked on me I knew him. He lives. He saved me. Ah! why does he stay away?"

Lysistra, whose husband had not deemed it prudent to inform her of Themistocles's revelations, was infinitely distressed. She sent for the best physicians of the city, and despatched a slave to the temple of Asclepius at Epidaurus-not distant-to sacrifice two c.o.c.ks for her daughter's recovery. The doctors looked wise and recommended heavy doses of spiced wine, and if those did not suffice, said that the patient might spend a night in the temple of the Healer, who would no doubt explain the true remedy in a dream. A "wise woman" who had great following among the slaves advised that a young puppy be tied upon Hermione's temples to absorb the disaffection of her brain. Lysistra was barely persuaded not to follow her admonitions. After a few days the patient grew better, recovered strength, took an interest in her child. Yet ever and anon she would repeat over Phnix's cradle:-

"Your father lives! I have seen him! I have seen him!"

What, however, puzzled Lysistra most, was the fact that Cleopis did not contradict her young mistress in the least, but maintained a mysterious silence about the whole adventure.

CHAPTER x.x.xIV

THE LOYALTY OF LAMPAXO

The night after his adventure on the hill slope Democrates received in his chambers no less an individual than Hiram. That industrious Phnician had been several days in Trzene, occupied in a manner he and his superior discreetly kept to themselves. The orator had a bandage above one eye, where a heavy sandal had kicked him. He was exceedingly pale, and sat in the arm-chair propped with pillows. That he had awaited Hiram eagerly, betrayed itself by the promptness with which he cut short the inevitable salaam.

"Well, my dear rascal, have you found him?"

"May it please your Excellency to hearken to even the least of your slaves?"

"Do you hear, fox?-have you found him?"

"My Lord shall judge for himself."

"Cerberus eat you, fellow,-though you'd be a poisonous mouthful,-tell your story in as few words as possible. I _know_ that he is lurking about Trzene."

"Compa.s.sion, your Lordship, compa.s.sion,"-Hiram seemed washing his hands in oil, they waved so soothingly-"if your Benignity will grant it, I have a very worthy woman here who, I think, can tell a story that will be interesting."

"In with her, then."

The person Hiram escorted into the room proved to be no more nor less than Lampaxo. Two years had not removed the wrinkles from her cheek, the sharpness from her nose, the rasping from her tongue. At sight of her Democrates half rose from his seat and held out his hand affably, the demagogue's instinct uppermost.

"Ah! my good dame, whom do I recognize? Are you not the wife of our excellent fishmonger, Phormio? A truly sterling man, and how, pray, is your good husband?"

"Poorly, poorly, _kyrie_." Lampaxo looked down and fumbled her dirty chiton. Such condescension on the part of a magnate barely less than Themistocles or Aristeides was overpowering.

"Poorly? I grieve to learn it. I was informed that he was comfortably settled here until it was safe to return to Attica, and had even opened a prosperous stall in the market-place."

"Of course, _kyrie_; and the trade, considering the times, is not so bad-Athena be praised-and he's not sick in body. It's worse, far worse. I was even on the point of going to your Lordship to state my misgivings, when your good friend, the Phnician, fell into my company, and I found he was searching for the very thing I wanted to reveal."

"Ah!" Democrates leaned forward and battled against his impatience,-"and what is the matter wherein I can be of service to so deserving a citizen as your husband?"

"I fear me,"-Lampaxo put her ap.r.o.n dutifully to her face and began to sniff,-"your Excellency won't call him 'deserving' any more. h.e.l.las knows your Excellency is patriotism itself. The fact is Phormio has 'Medized.' "