own husband betraying the city! Aiding a
traitor!" Then she began whimpering through her nose. "_Mu! mu!_ leave the
villain to his fate. Think of me if not of your own safety. Woe! when was
a woman more misused?"

But here her lament ended, for Phormio, with the firmness of a man
thoroughly determined, thrust a rag into her mouth and with Bias's help
bound her down upon the couch by means of a convenient fish-cord.

"I am grieved to stop your singing, blessed dear," spoke the fishmonger,
indulging in a rare outburst of sarcasm against his formidable helpmeet,
"but we play a game with Fate to-night a little too even to allow unfair
chances. Bias will watch you until I return, and then I can discover,
_philotata_, whether your love for Athens is so great you must go to the
Archon to denounce your husband."

The Thracian promised to do his part. His affection for Democrates was
clearly not the warmest. Lampaxo's farewell, as Phormio guided his
half-dazed companion into the street, was a futile struggle and a choking.
The ways were empty and silent. Glaucon allowed himself to be led by the
hand and did not speak. He hardly knew how or whither Phormio was taking
him. Their road lay along the southern side of the Acropolis, past the
tall columns of the unfinished Temple of Zeus, which reared to giant
height in the white moonlight. This, as well as the overshadowing Rock
itself, they left behind without incident. Phormio chose devious alleys,
and they met neither Scythian constables nor bands of roisterers. Only
once the two passed a house bright with lamps. Jovial guests celebrated a
late wedding feast. Clearly the two heard the marriage hymn of Sappho.

"The bridegroom comes tall as Ares,
Ho, Hymenaeus!
Taller than a mighty man,
Ho, Hymenaeus!"

Glaucon stopped like one struck with an arrow.

"They sang that song the night I wedded Hermione. Oh, if I could drink the
Lethe water and forget!"

"Come," commanded Phormio, pulling upon his arm. "The sun will shine again
to-morrow."

Thus the twain went forward, Glaucon saying not a word. He hardly knew how
they passed the Itonian Gate and crossed the long stretch of open country
betwixt the city and its havens. No pursuit as yet--Glaucon was too
perplexed to reason why. At last he knew they entered Phaleron. He heard
the slapping waves, the creaking tackle, the shouting sailors. Torches
gleamed ruddily. A merchantman was loading her cargo of pottery cr