_Bia._ But there are maids in Sparta.

_Pyrr._ Not for you, A traitor to the soil that gave you life.

_Bia._ That soil first cast me off.

_Pyrr._ A mother strikes Her child, but should the child return the blow G.o.ds would droop eyes and blush.

_Bia._ But were I true To my own land, I should be false to yours.

_Pyrr._ A virtue that. A maid might love you then.

_Bia._ A Spartan maid?

_Pyrr._ A Spartan maid. But now We hold you as no more than loathed bait To capture Athens. Used as a stuck fly To hook a chub!

[_Enter Hieron_]

_Bia._ What saucy fury sports With Hieron? His even smile's unfixed As the middle of two minds.

_Hie._ Sir, Phernes sends Six maidens from his ship to dance before you.

The n.o.ble Persian chooses time most fit For wantoning,--the hour of sacrifice And battle prayer.

_Bia._ You're justly kindled. What Though it be royal custom in his East,-- A grace from king to king,--to garnish danger With frillet of relief that makes death seem The last-dropped toy, we'll dare to let him know That we are Greeks, and walk the edge of graves With eyes upon the G.o.ds. Go, pack them off!

_Hie._ Why,--so I meant. The act struck rudely on Our ritual hour. But if his Eastern mind Paints it a courtesy----

_Bia._ A sovereign honor.

_Hie._ He is of haughty blood,--burns at rebuff----

_Bia._ Ay, like a hornet blind. A thousand times I've eased his fret and run his humor's mould Like summer wax, lest he should break from Sparta That stood in rigid ruin. Now I leave it!

His anger can be put to gentlest sleep, But 'tis no babe when stirred. Choose as you will.

_Hie._ The honor is to you. Be yours the answer.

_Bia._ I'm worn with him. Three hours to-day I played His vanity, while chance touched either side, Waiting the word that should cut through suspense And seal him ours for battle.

_Hie._ To huff his pride 'Tween this and dawn would poorly soothe our own At an uncertain cost. But let him leer I' the oracles' face....

_Bia._ He has not sent Alissa?

_Hie._ There's one so calls herself. Spoke out the name As we should fall before it.

_Bia._ She's most free In Phernes' heart. Knows all the honey-ways To his secret soul, and what is said to her He'll hear ere morn. As you love victory, I hope you met her gently.

_Hie._ If surprise Made greeting harsh, I will undo that harm With softer welcome. And beseech you, sir, To suffer this mistimed civility For Sparta's sake.

_Bia._ I will, dear Hieron, Since 'tis your suit.

_Hie._ Thanks, thanks, my lord.

_Bia._ Let them come in. I'll see their briefest dance, And give Alissa one commending word, Which straight as faithful bee she'll hive In Phernes' ear.

[_Exit Hieron_]

What think you of it, Pyrrha?

You do approve me?

_Pyrr._ Approve your wits, my friend.

Had they been Spartan trained, you'd bring them off, Untarnished still, from argument with Zeus.

_Bia._ When Pallas praises, bow.

_Pyrr._ Poor Hieron Is now the sweating agent of your will To see these callets dance.

_Bia._ Unpitiful!

I'd touch my lips to Lethe, and you'd s.n.a.t.c.h The oblivious drop from me! You know how dear The bond that shall be cut with sword of dawn,-- So close no seer may tell which shall bleed most, Athens or her lost son.

_Pyrr._ Art low at last?

_Bia._ Dun, dun, my Pyrrha, as a Barbary pigeon!

So low not all my pride can vaunt me up.

Then let me have my wine,--the draught of eyes, Of music and of smiles, till I be drunk And sleep.

[_Enter six Athenian youths, led by Clearchus, all disguised as Persian dancers. As they dance before Biades his pleasure quickens to abandonment_]

_Bia._ Ah, Pyrrha, you've denied my heart All n.o.ble love, but here's a pleasure left.

Soft eyes and gentle bosoms may be mine Where scorn is taught to sleep and never sting.

... That is Alissa. We must honor her.

[_He signals Clearchus, and the others pa.s.s out, leaving him to dance alone. As he ventures more flirtatiously about Biades, Pyrrha's disgust increases and she retreats. Clearchus, dancing mockingly, follows her to door, and when she has pa.s.sed through audaciously closes it_]

_Bia._ Now! Quick! In name of Zeus! The senators Received my message?

_Clea._ [_Darting to Biades_] Ay, the answer's here!

[_Gives him a parchment_]

Full pardon! Athens will lay down her walls To make your entry proud! Her gates are small, For honor she intends you!

_Bia._ [_Glances at parchment and sobs_]

My Athens! Mine! Though she should take my life, And my bruised body fling unburied forth, Yet would my shade drop kisses on her soil And weep to leave it for Elysium! [_With sudden control_]

What of my plan?

_Clea._ Adopted, in each item.

Soon as the dropping moon is in the sea, The Athenian rowers, coming as your own, Will board this galley and bear her a bird To th' harbor nest.

_Bia._ They've force to meet the guards?

_Clea._ Thrice measured, sir. The _Theia_----

_Bia._ My own ship!