uts the Persians loved, but he never failed to find each day an hour to
spend with Artazostra his wife, with Roxana his half-sister, and with
Glaucon his preserver.

Slowly through the winter health had returned to the Athenian. For days he
had lain dreaming away the hours to the tune of the flutes and the
fountains. When the warm spring came, the eunuchs carried him in a
sedan-chair through the palace garden, whence he could look forth on the
plain, the city, the snow-clad hills, and think he was on Zeus's Olympian
throne, surveying all the earth. Then it was he learned the Persian
speech, and easily, for were not his teachers Artazostra and Roxana? He
found it no difficult tongue, simple and much akin to Greek, and unlike
most of the uncouth tongues the Oriental traders chattered in Sardis. The
two women were constantly with him. Few men were admitted to a Persian
harem, but Mardonius never grudged the Greek the company of these twain.

"Noble Athenian," said the Prince, the first time he visited Glaucon's
bed, "you are my brother. My house is yours. My friends are yours. Command
us all."

* * * * * * *

Every day Glaucon was stronger. He tested himself with dumb-bells. Always
he could lift a heavier weight. When the summer was at hand, he could ride
out with Mardonius to the "Paradise," the satrap's hunting park, and be in
at the death of the deer. Yet he was no more the "Fortunate Youth" of
Athens. Only imperfectly he himself knew how complete was the severance
from his old life. The terrible hour at Colonus had made a mark on his
spirit which not all Zeus's power could take away. No doubt all the
one-time friends believed him dead. Had Hermione's confidence in him
remained true? Would she not say "guilty" at last with all the rest?
Mardonius might have answered, he had constant letters from Greece, but
the Prince was dumb when Glaucon strove to ask of things beyond the AEgean.

Day by day the subtle influence of the Orient--the lotus-eating,--"tasting
the honey-sweet fruit which makes men choose to abide forever, forgetful
of the homeward way"--spread its unseen power over the Alcmaeonid. Athens,
the old pain, even the face of Hermione, would rise before him only dimly.
He fought against this enchantment. But it was easier to renew his vow to
return to Athens, after wiping out his shame, than to break these bands
daily tightening.

He heard little Greek, now that he was learning P