read aloud a second time the answer of the Pythia:
“If once the warrior hosts from the snow-topped mountains descending
Come to the fields of the stream watering richly the plain,
Then shall the lingering boat to the beckoning meadows convey thee
Which to the wandering foot peace and a home will afford.
When those warriors come from the snow-topped mountains descending
Then will the powerful Five grant thee what they long refused.”
Scarcely was the last word out of his mouth, when Kallias the Athenian, springing up, cried: “In this house, too, you shall receive from me the fourth gift of the gods. Know that I have kept my rarest news till last: the Persians are coming to Egypt!”
At this every one, except the Sybarite, rushed to his feet, and Kallias found it almost impossible to answer their numerous questions. “Gently, gently, friends,” he cried at last; “let me tell my story in order, or I shall never finish it at all. It is not an army, as Phanes supposes, that is on its way hither, but a great embassy from Cambyses, the present ruler of the most powerful kingdom of Persia. At Samos I heard that they had already reached Miletus, and in a few days they will be here. Some of the king’s own relations, are among the number, the aged Croesus, king of Lydia, too; we shall behold a marvellous splendor and magnificence! Nobody knows the object of their coming, but it is supposed that King Cambyses wishes to conclude an alliance with Amasis; indeed some say the king solicits the hand of Pharaoh’s daughter.”
“An alliance?” asked Phanes, with an incredulous shrug of the shoulders. “Why the Persians are rulers over half the world already. All the great Asiatic powers have submitted to their sceptre; Egypt and our own mother-country, Hellas, are the only two that have been shared by the conqueror.”
“You forget India with its wealth of gold, and the great migratory nations of Asia,” answered Kallias. “And you forget moreover, that an empire, composed like Persia of some seventy nations or tribes of different languages and customs, bears the seeds of discord ever within itself, and must therefore guard against the chance of foreign attack; lest, while the bulk of the army be absent, single provinces should seize the opportunity and revolt from their allegiance. Ask the Milesians how long they would remain quiet if they heard that their oppressors had been defeated in any battle?”
Theopompus, the Milesian merchant, called out, laughing at the same time: “If the Persians were to be worsted in one war, they would at once be involved in a hundred others, and we should not be the last to rise up against our tyrants in the hour of their weakness!”
“Whatever the intentions of the envoys may be,” continued Kallias, “my information remains unaltered; they will be here at the latest in three days.”
“And so your oracle will be fulfilled, fortunate Aristomachus!” exclaimed Rhodopis, “for see, the warrior hosts can only be the Persians. When they descend to the shores of the Nile, then the powerful Five,’ your Ephori, will change their decision, and you, the father of two Olympian victors, will be recalled to your native land.
[The five Ephori of Sparta were appointed to represent the absent
kings during the Messenian war. In later days the nobles made use
of the Ephori as a power, which, springing immediately from their
own body, they could oppose to the kingly authority. Being the
highest magistrates in all judicial and educational matters, and in
everything relating to the moral police of the country, the Ephori
soon found means to assert their superiority, and on most occasions
over that of the kings themselves. Every patrician who was past the
age of thirty, had the right to become a candidate yearly for the
office. Aristot. Potit, II. and IV. Laert. Diog. I. 68.]
“Fill the goblets again, Knakias. Let us devote this last cup to the manes of the glorious Lysander; and then I advise you to depart, for it is long past midnight, and our pleasure has reached its highest point. The true host puts an end to the banquet when his guests are feeling at their best. Serene and agreeable recollections will soon bring you hither again; whereas there would be little joy in returning to a house where the remembrance of hours of weakness, the result of pleasure, would mingle with your future enjoyment.” In this her guests agreed, and Ibykus named her a thorough disciple of Pythagoras, in praise of the joyous, festive evening.
Every one prepared for departure. The Sybarite, who had been drinking deeply in order to counteract the very inconvenient amount of feeling excited by the conversation, rose also, assisted by his slaves, who had to be called in for this purpose.
While he was being moved from his former comfortable position, he stammered something about a “breach of hospitality;” but, when Rhodopis was about to give him her hand at parting, the wine gained the ascendancy and he exclaimed, “By Hercules, Rhodopis, you get rid of us as if we were troublesome creditors. It is not my custom to leave a supper so long as I can stand, still less to be turned out of doors like a miserable parasite!”
“Hear reason, you immoderate Sybarite,” began Rhodopis, endeavoring with a smile to excuse her proceeding. But these words, in Philoinus’ half-intoxicated mood, only increased his irritation; he burst into a mocking laugh, and staggering towards the door, shouted: “Immoderate Sybarite, you call me? good! here you have your answer: Shameless slave! one can still perceive the traces of what you were in your youth. Farewell then, slave of Iadmon and Xanthus, freedwoman of Charaxus!” He had not however finished his sentence, when Aristomachus rushed upon him, stunned him with a blow of his fist, and carried him off like a child down to the boat in which his slaves were waiting at the garden-gate.
CHAPTER III.
The guests were all gone. Their departing mirth and joy had been smitten down by the drunkard’s abusive words, like fresh young corn beneath a hail storm. Rhodopis was left standing alone in the empty, brightly decorated (supper-room). Knakias extinguished the colored lamps on the walls, and a dull, mysterious half-light took the place of their brilliant rays, falling scantily and gloomily on the piled-up plates and dishes, the remnants of the meal, and the seats and cushions, pushed out of their places by the retiring guests. A cold breeze came through the open door, for the dawn was at hand, and just before sunrise, the air is generally unpleasantly cool in Egypt. A cold chill struck the limbs of the aged woman through her light garments. She stood gazing tearlessly and fixedly into the desolate room, whose walls but a few minutes before had been echoing with joy and gladness, and it seemed to her that the deserted guest-chamber must be like her own heart. She felt as if a worm were gnawing there, and the warm blood congealing into ice.
Lost in these thoughts, she remained standing till at last her old female slave appeared to light her to her sleeping apartment.
Silently Rhodopis allowed herself to be undressed, and then, as silently, lifted the curtain which separated a second sleeping apartment from her own. In the middle of this second room stood a bedstead of maplewood, and there, on white sheets spread over a mattress of fine sheep’s wool, and protected from the cold by bright blue coverlets’s,
