nity for your commandment. It shall not be forgotten."
Mardonius bowed himself. Xerxes called for more wine. The feast lasted
late and ended in an orgy.
CHAPTER XVII
THE CHARMING BY ROXANA
Glaucon's longing for the old life ebbed and flowed. Sometimes the return
of memory maddened him. Who had done it?--had forged that damning letter
and then hid it with Seuthes? Themistocles? Impossible. Democrates?--"the
friend with the understanding heart no less than a brother dear," as Homer
said? More impossible. An unknown enemy, then, had stolen the fleet order
from Themistocles? But what man had hated Glaucon? One answer
remained,--unwittingly the athlete had offended some god, forgotten some
vow, or by sheer good fortune had awakened divine jealousy. Poseidon had
been implacable toward Odysseus, Athena toward Hector, Artemis toward
Niobe,--Glaucon could only pray that his present welcome amongst the
Persians might not draw down another outburst of Heaven's anger.
More than all else was the keen longing for Hermione. He saw her in the
night. Vainly, amidst the storms of the gathering war, he had sought a
messenger to Athens. In this he dared ask no help from Mardonius. Then
almost from the blue a bolt fell that made him wish to tear Hermione from
his heart.
A Carian slave, a trusted steward at the Athenian silver mines of Laurium,
had loved his liberty and escaped to Sardis. The Persians questioned him
eagerly, for he knew all the gossip of Athens. Glaucon met the runaway,
who did not know then who he was, so many Greek refugees were always
fluttering around the king's court. The Carian told of a new honour for
Democrates.
"He is elected strategus for next year because of his proud patriotism.
There is talk, too, of a more private bit of good fortune."
"What is it?"
"That he has made successful suit to Hermippus of Eleusis for his
daughter,--the widow of Glaucon, the dead outlaw. They say the marriage
follows at the end of the year of mourning--Sir, you are not well!"
"I was never better." But the other had turned ashen. He quitted the
Carian abruptly and shut himself in his chamber. It was good that he wore
no sword. He might have slain himself.
Yet, he communed in his heart, was it not best? Was he not dead to Athens?
Must Hermione mourn him down to old age? And whom better could she take
than Democrates, the man who had sacrificed even
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