"My friend; didn't you yourself ask for silence?"

"I am not proud, and I can treat men who are worse than I am considerately. Don't let us quarrel."

"I did not quarrel with you, friend Elpidias, and did not wish to say anything to insult you. I am merely accustomed to get at the truth of things by comparisons. My situation is not clear to me. You consider your situation better, and I should be glad to learn why. On the other hand, it would not hurt you to learn the truth, whatever shape it may take."

"Well, no more of this."

"Tell me, are you afraid? I don't think that the feeling I now have can be called fear."

"I am afraid, although I have less cause than you to be at odds with the G.o.ds. But don't you think that the G.o.ds, in abandoning us to ourselves here in this chaos, have cheated us of our hopes?"

"That depends upon what sort of hopes they were. What did you expect from the G.o.ds, Elpidias?"

"Well, well, what did I expect from the G.o.ds! What curious questions you ask, Socrates! If a man throughout life brings offerings, and at his death pa.s.ses away with a pious heart and with all that custom demands, the G.o.ds might at least send some one to meet him, at least one of the inferior G.o.ds, to show a man the way. ... But that reminds me. Many a time when I begged for good luck in traffic in hides, I promised Hermes calves--"

"And you didn't have luck?"

"Oh, yes, I had luck, good Socrates, but--".

"I understand, you had no calf."

"Bah! Socrates, a rich tanner and not have calves?"

"Now I understand. You had luck, had calves, but you kept them for yourself, and Hermes received nothing."

"You're a clever man. I've often said so. I kept only three of my ten oaths, and I didn't deal differently with the other G.o.ds. If the same is the case with you, isn't that the reason, possibly, why we are now abandoned by the G.o.ds? To be sure, I ordered Larissa to sacrifice a whole hecatomb after my death."

"But that is Larissa's affair, whereas it was you, friend Elpidias, who made the promises."

"That's true, that's true. But you, good Socrates, could you, G.o.dless as you are, deal better with the G.o.ds than I who was a G.o.d-fearing tanner?"

"My friend, I know not whether I dealt better or worse. At first I brought offerings without having made vows. Later I offered neither calves nor vows."

"What, not a single calf, you unfortunate man?"

"Yes, friend, if Hermes had had to live by my gifts, I am afraid he would have grown very thin."

"I understand. You did not traffic in cattle, so you offered articles of some other trade-probably a mina or so of what the pupils paid you."

"You know, my friend, I didn't ask pay of my pupils, and my trade scarcely sufficed to support me. If the G.o.ds reckoned on the sorry remnants of my meals they miscalculated."

"Oh, blasphemer, in comparison with you I can be proud of my piety. Ye G.o.ds, look upon this man! I did deceive you at times, but now and then I shared with you the surplus of some fortunate deal. He who gives at all gives much in comparison with a blasphemer who gives nothing. Socrates, I think you had better go on alone! I fear that your company, G.o.dless one, damages me in the eyes of the G.o.ds."

"As you will, good Elpidias. I swear by the dog no one shall force his company on another. Unhand the fold of my mantle, and farewell. I will go on alone."

And Socrates walked forward with a sure tread, feeling the ground, however, at every step.

But Elpidias behind him instantly cried out:

"Wait, wait, my good fellow-citizen, do not leave an Athenian alone in this horrible place! I was only making fun. Take what I said as a joke, and don't go so quickly. I marvel how you can see a thing in this h.e.l.lish darkness."

"Friend, I have accustomed my eyes to it."

"That's good. Still I, can't approve of your not having brought sacrifices to the G.o.ds. No, I can't, poor Socrates, I can't. The honourable Sophroniscus certainly taught you better in your youth, and you yourself used to take part in the prayers. I saw you.

"Yes. But I am accustomed to examine all our motives and to accept only those that after investigation prove to be reasonable. And so a day came on which I said to myself: 'Socrates, here you are praying to the Olympians. Why are you praying to them?'"

Elpidias laughed.

"Really you philosophers sometimes don't know how to answer the simplest questions. I'm a plain tanner who never in my life studied sophistry, yet I know why I must honour the Olympians."

"Tell me quickly, so that I. too, may know why."

"Why? Ha! Ha! It's too simple, you wise Socrates."

"So much the better if it's simple. But don't keep your wisdom from, me. Tell me-why must one honour the G.o.ds?"

"Why. Because everybody does it."

"Friend, you know very well that not every one honours the G.o.ds.

Wouldn't it be more correct to say 'many'?"

"Very well, many."

"But tell me, don't more men deal wickedly than righteously?"

"I think so. You find more wicked people than good people."

"Therefore, if you follow the majority, you ought to deal wickedly and not righteously?"

"What are you saying?"

"I'm not saying it, you are. But I think the reason that men reverence the Olympians is not because the majority worship them. We must find another, more rational ground. Perhaps you mean they deserve reverence?"

"Yes, very right."

"Good. But then arises a new question: Why do they deserve reverence?"

"Because of their greatness."

"Ah, that's more like it. Perhaps I will soon be agreeing with you. It only remains for you to tell me wherein their greatness consists. That's a difficult question, isn't it? Let us seek the answer together. Homer says that the impetuous Ares, when stretched flat on the ground by a stone thrown by Pallas Athene, covered with his body the s.p.a.ce that can be travelled in seven mornings. You see what an enormous s.p.a.ce."

"Is that wherein greatness consists?"

"There you have me, my friend. That raises another question. Do you remember the athlete Theophantes? He towered over the people a whole head's length, whereas Pericles was no larger than you. But whom do we call great, Pericles or Theophantes?"

"I see that greatness does not consist in size of body. In that you're right. I am glad we agree. Perhaps greatness consists in virtue?"

"Certainly."