Therefore he nursed his strength--a caged lion waiting for
freedom,--and almost wished the Persian host would advance more swiftly
that he might haste onward to his own.

* * * * * * *

Glaucon had cherished a hope to see the whole power of the Peloponnesus in
array in Boeotia, but that hope proved quickly vain. The oracle was truly
to be fulfilled,--the whole of "the land of Cecrops" was to be possessed by
the Barbarian. The mountain passes were open. No arrows greeted the
Persian vanguard as it cantered down the defiles, and once more the king's
courtiers told their smiling master that not another hand would be raised
against him.

The fourth month after quitting the Hellespont Xerxes entered Athens. The
gates stood ajar. The invaders walked in silent streets as of a city of
the dead. A few runaway slaves alone greeted them. Only in the Acropolis a
handful of superstitious old men and temple warders had barricaded
themselves, trusting that Athena would still defend her holy mountain. For
a few days they defended the steep, rolling down huge boulders, but the
end was inevitable. The Persians discovered a secret path upward. The
defenders were surprised and dashed themselves from the crags or were
massacred. A Median spear-man flung a fire-brand. The house of the
guardian goddess went up in flame. The red column leaping to heaven was a
beacon for leagues around that Xerxes held the length and breadth of
Attica.

Glaucon watched the burning temple with grinding teeth. Mardonius's tents
were pitched in the eastern city by the fountain of Callirhoe,--a spot of
fond memories for the Alcmaeonid. Here first he had met Hermione, come with
her maids to draw water, and had gone away dreaming of Aphrodite arising
from the sea. Often here he had sat with Democrates by the little pool,
whilst the cypresses above talked their sweet, monotonous music. Before
him rose the Rock of Athena,--the same, yet not the same. The temple of his
fathers was vanishing in smoke and ashes. What wonder that he turned to
Artazostra at his side with a bitter smile.

"Lady, your people have their will. But do not think Athena Nikephorus,
the Lady of Triumphs, will forget this day when we stand against you in
battle."

She did not answer him. He knew that many noblemen had advised Xerxes
against driving the Greeks to desperation by this sacrilege, but this fact
hardly made him the happier.

At dusk the next evening M