nothing is certain,” exclaimed Protagoras.
“Yes, this is certain.”
“Well, my fabric of thought is shattered against this certainty as everything else is shattered.”
“[Greek: Pànta reî]. Everything flows away; nothing endures; all comes to birth, grows, and dies.”
“Farewell, then, Aspasia, Socrates, friends, fatherland!
“Farewell!”
Protagoras departed with his mantle drawn over his head.
“Will Athens miss Protagoras?” asked Aspasia.
“He has taught the Athenians to think and to doubt; and doubt is the beginning of wisdom.”
“Aristophanes has murdered Protagoras, and he will murder you some day, Socrates.”
“He has done that already; my wife rejoices at it, but still I live.”
“Here comes young Plato with an ominous look. More bad news I expect.”
“Expect? I am certain! Sing your dirge, Plato.”
“Dirges, you mean. Alcibiades has been accused and recalled.”
“What has he done?”
“Before his departure he has mutilated all the images of Hermes in the city.”
“That is too much for one man; he could not do that.”
“The accusation is definite; injury to the gods of the State.”
“And now the gods avenge themselves.”
“The gods of Greece have gone to Rome.”
“There you have spoken truth.”
“Now comes number two: The Athenians have been defeated in Sicily. And number three: Nicias is beheaded.”
“Then we can buy sepulchres for ourselves in the Ceramicus.”
Near the Temple of Nemesis in the Agora stood the tanner Anytos chatting with Thrasybulos, a hitherto obscure but rising patriot.
Anytos rattled away: “Alcibiades is in Sparta; Sparta seeks the help of the Persian King; only one thing remains for us—to do the same.”
“To go over to the enemy? That is treachery.”
“There is nothing else to be done.”
“There were once Thermopylae and Salamis.”
“But now there is Sparta, and the Spartans are in Deceleia. Our envoys have already sailed to the Persian King.”
“Then we may as well remove Athene’s image from the Parthenon! Anytos! look at my back; for I shall be ashamed to show my face now when I walk.”
Anytos remained alone, and walked for some time up and down in front of the temple portico. Then he stopped and entered the vestibule.
The priestess Theano seemed to have been waiting for him. Anytos began: “Have you obeyed the order of the Council?”
“What order?”
“To pronounce a curse on Alcibiades, the enemy of his country.”
“No, I am only ordered to bless.”
“Have the avenging goddesses, then, ceased to execute justice?”
“They have never lent themselves to carry out human vengeance.”
“Has Alcibiades not betrayed his country?”
“Alcibiades’ country is Hellas, not Athens; Sparta is in Hellas.”
“Have the gods also become Sophists?”
“The gods have become dumb.”
“Then you can shut the temple—the sooner, the better.”
The incorrigible Alcibiades had really fled from Sicily to the enemy at Sparta, and now sat at table with King Aegis; for Sparta had retained the monarchy, while Athens at an early date had abjured it.
“My friend,” said the King, “I do not like your dining at the common public table, after being accustomed to Aspasia’s brilliant feasts in Athens.”
“I! Oh no! My rule was always the simplest food: I went to sleep with the sun, and rose with the sun. You do not know what a severe ascetic I have been.”
“If you say so, I must believe it. Rumour, then, has slandered you?”
“Slandered? Yes, certainly. You remember the scandal about the statues of Hermes. I did not mutilate them, but they have become my destruction.”
“Is that also a lie?”
“It is a lie.”
“But tell me something else. Do you think that it is now the will of the gods that Sparta should conquer Athens?”
“Certainly, as certainly as virtue will conquer vice. Sparta is the home of all the virtues, and Athens of all the vices.”
“Now I understand that you are not the man I took you for, and I will give you the command of the army. Shall we now march against Athens?”
“I am ready!”
“Have you no scruple in marching against your own city?”
“I am a Hellene, not an Athenian, Sparta is the chief city of Hellas.”
“Alcibiades is great! Now I go to the general, and this evening we march.”
“Go, King! Alcibiades follows.”
The King went, but Alcibiades did not follow, for behind the curtains of the women’s apartment stood the Queen, and waited. When the King had gone, she rushed in.
“Hail! Alcibiades, my king!”
“Queen, why do you call your servant ‘king’?”
“Because Sparta has done homage to you, because I love you, and because you are a descendant of heroes.”
“King Aegis the Second lives.”
“Not too long! Win your first battle, and Aegis is dead.”
“Now life begins to smile on the hardly-tried exile. If you knew my childhood with its sorrows, my youth with its privations! The vine had not grown for me, woman had not been made for me; Bacchus knew me not; Aphrodite was not my goddess. The chaste Artemis and the wise Pallas guided me past the devious ways of youth to the goal of knowledge, wisdom, and glory. But when I first saw you, Timia, my queen....”
“Hush!”
“Then I thought that beauty was more than wisdom.”
“Hush! some one is listening.”
