uitless debates that Democrates passed out of the gathering at the
Corinthian prytaneum, with his colleagues all breathing forth their wrath
against Dorian stupidity and evasiveness.

Democrates himself crossed the city Agora, seeking the house of the
friendly merchant where he was to sup. He walked briskly, his thoughts
more perhaps on the waiting betrothal feast at Troezene, than on the
discussion behind him. The Agora scene had little to interest, the same
buyers, booths, and babel as in Athens, only the citadel above was the
mount of Acro-Corinthus, not the tawny rock of Athena. And in late months
he had begun to find his old fears and terrors flee away. Every day he was
growing more certain that his former "missteps"--that was his own name for
certain occurrences--could have no malign influence. "After all," he was
reflecting, "Nemesis is a very capricious goddess. Often she forgets for a
lifetime, and after death--who knows what is beyond the Styx?"

He was on such noble terms with all about him that he could even give ear
to the whine of a beggar. The man was sitting on the steps between the
pillars of a colonnade, with a tame crow perched upon his fist, and as
Democrates passed he began his doggerel prayer:--

"Good master, a handful of barley bestow
On the child of Apollo, the sage, sable crow."

The Athenian began to fumble in his belt for an obol, when he was rudely
distracted by a twitch upon his chiton. Turning, he was little pleased to
come face to face with no less a giant than Lycon.

"There was an hour, _philotate_," spoke the Spartan, with ill-concealed
sneer, "when you did not have so much silver to scatter out to beggars."

Time had not mended Lycon's aspect, nor taken from his eye that sinister
twinkle which was so marked a foil to his brutishness.

"I did not invite you, dear fellow," rejoined the Athenian, "to remind me
of the fact."

"Yet you should have gratitude, and you have lacked that virtue of late.
It was a sorry plight Mardonius's money saved you from two years since,
and nobly have you remembered his good service."

"Worthy Lacedaemonian," said Democrates, with what patience he could
command, "if you desire to go over all that little business which
concerned us then, at least I would suggest not in the open Agora." He
started to walk swiftly away. The Spartan's ponderous strides easily kept
beside him. Democrates looked vainly for an associate whom he could
approach and on s