tion.

"There is no hole in the net of Democrates's evidence that Glaucon is
guilty of foul disloyalty, disloyalty worthy of shameful death. Were he
any other there would be only one way with him and that a short one. But
Glaucon I know, if I know any man. The charges even if proved are nigh
incredible. For of all the thousands in Hellas his soul seemed the purest,
noblest, most ingenuous. Therefore I will not hasten on his death. I will
give the gods a chance to save him. Let Democrates arraign me for
'misprision of treason' if he will, and of failing in duty to Athens.
There shall be no pursuit of Glaucon until morning. Then let the Eleven(7)
issue their hue and cry. If they take him, let the law deal with him. Till
then give respite."

Democrates attempted remonstrance. Themistocles bade him be silent
sharply, and the other bowed his head in cowed acquiescence. Hermione
staggered from the door, her father unbarred, and the whole wretched
company went forth. In the passage hung a burnished steel mirror; Hermione
gave a cry as she passed it. The light borne by Hermippus showed her in
her festival dress, the rippling white drapery, the crown of white
violets.

"My father!" she cried, falling into his arms, "is it still the day of the
Panathenaea, when I marched in the great procession, when all Athens called
me happy? It was a thousand years ago! I can never be glad again--"

He lifted her tenderly as she fainted. Old Cleopis, the Spartan nurse who
had kissed her almost before her mother, ran to her. They carried her to
bed, and Athena in mercy hid her from consciousness that night and all the
following day.

CHAPTER XIII

THE DISLOYALTY OF PHORMIO

On the evening of the Panathenaea, Bias, servant of Democrates, had supped
with Phormio,--for in democratic Athens a humble citizen would not disdain
to entertain even a slave. The Thracian had a merry wit and a
story-teller's gift that more than paid for the supper of barley-porridge
and salt mackerel, and after the viands had disappeared was ready even to
tell tales against his master.

"I've turned my brain inside out, and shaken it like a meal sack. No
wisdom comes. The _kyrios_ has something on his mind. He prays to Hermes
Dolios as often as if he were a cut-purse. Then yesterday he sent me for
Agis--"

"Agis?" Phormio pricked up his ears. "The gambling-house keeper? What does
Democrates with _h