ptian turquoise; the price
thereof Simonides wisely set at two minae. Nothing betrayed the identity of
the giver save a slip of papyrus written in Greek, but in very uncertain
hand. "_To the Beautiful Champion of Athens: from one he has greatly
served._"

Cimon held the bracelet on high, admiring its perfect lustre.

"Themistocles was wrong," he remarked; "the Oriental was not ungrateful.
But what 'slave' or 'lad' was this that Glaucon succoured?"

"Perhaps," insinuated Simonides, "Themistocles was wrong yet again. Who
knows if a stranger giving such gifts be not sent forth by Xerxes?"

"Don't chatter foolishness," commanded Democrates, almost peevishly; but
Glaucon replaced the bracelet in the casket.

"Since the god sends this, I will rejoice in it," he declared lightly. "A
fair omen for to-morrow, and it will shine rarely on Hermione's arm." The
mention of that lady called forth new protests from Cimon, but he in turn
was interrupted, for a half-grown boy had entered the tent and stood
beckoning to Democrates.

CHAPTER III

THE HAND OF PERSIA

The lad who sidled up to Democrates was all but a hunchback. His bare arms
were grotesquely tattooed, clear sign that he was a Thracian. His eyes
twinkled keenly, uneasily, as in token of an almost sinister intelligence.
What he whispered to Democrates escaped the rest, but the latter began
girding up his cloak.

"You leave us, _philotate_?" cried Glaucon. "Would I not have all my
friends with me to-night, to fill me with fair thoughts for the morrow?
Bid your ugly Bias keep away!"

"A greater friend than even Glaucon the Alcmaeonid commands me hence," said
the orator, smiling.

"Declare his name."

"Declare _her_ name," cried Simonides, viciously.

"Noble Cean, then I say I serve a most beautiful, high-born dame. Her name
is Athens."

"Curses on your public business," lamented Glaucon. "But off with you,
since your love is the love of us all."

Democrates kissed the athlete on both cheeks. "I leave you to faithful
guardians. Last night I dreamed of a garland of lilies, sure presage of a
victory. So take courage."

"_Chaire! chaire!_"(1) called the rest; and Democrates left the tent to
follow the slave-boy.

Evening was falling: the sea, rocks, fields, pine groves, were touched by
the red glow dying behind Acro-Corinthus. Torches gleamed amid the trees
where the multitudes were buying, se