n," said he, "you are welcome! I am proud to show hospitality
to so heroic a youth. Do me the favor to drink the contents of this
goblet. It is brimming over, as you see, with delicious wine, such as I
bestow only on those who are worthy of it! None is more worthy to quaff
it than yourself!"

So saying, King Aegeus took the golden goblet from the table, and was
about to offer it to Theseus. But, partly through his infirmities, and
partly because it seemed so sad a thing to take away this young man's
life. however wicked he might be, and partly, no doubt, because his
heart was wiser than his head, and quaked within him at the thought of
what he was going to do--for all these reasons, the king's hand
trembled so much that a great deal of the wine slopped over. In order
to strengthen his purpose, and fearing lest the whole of the precious
poison should be wasted, one of his nephews now whispered to him:

"Has your Majesty any doubt of this stranger's guilt? This is the
very sword with which he meant to slay you. How sharp, and bright, and
terrible it is! Quick!--let him taste the wine; or perhaps he may do the
deed even yet."

At these words, Aegeus drove every thought and feeling out of his
breast, except the one idea of how justly the young man deserved to be
put to death. He sat erect on his throne, and held out the goblet of
wine with a steady hand, and bent on Theseus a frown of kingly severity;
for, after all, he had too noble a spirit to murder even a treacherous
enemy with a deceitful smile upon his face.

"Drink!" said he, in the stern tone with which he was wont to condemn
a criminal to be beheaded. "You have well deserved of me such wine as
this!"

Theseus held out his hand to take the wine. But, before he touched it,
King Aegeus trembled again. His eyes had fallen on the gold-hilted sword
that hung at the young man's side. He drew back the goblet.

"That sword!" he exclaimed: "how came you by it?"

"It was my father's sword," replied Theseus, with a tremulous voice.
"These were his sandals. My dear mother (her name is Aethra) told me
his story while I was yet a little child. But it is only a month since
I grew strong enough to lift the heavy stone, and take the sword and
sandals from beneath it, and come to Athens to seek my father."

"My son! my son!" cried King Aegeus, flinging away the fatal goblet, and
tottering down from the throne to fall into the arms of Theseus. "Yes,
these are Aethra's eyes. I