ve more slept before the entrance.

"We watch him closely, _kyrie_," explained the decarch, saluting.
"Naturally we fear suicide as well as escape. Two more are within the
tent."

"Withdraw them. Do you all stand at distance. For what happens I will be
responsible."

The two guards inside emerged yawning. Themistocles took the torch and
entered the squalid hair-cloth pavilion. The sentries noticed he had a
casket under his cloak.

"The prisoner sleeps," said a hoplite, "in spite of his fetters."

Themistocles set down the casket and carefully drew the tent-flap. With
silent tread he approached the slumberer. The face was upturned; white it
was, but it showed the same winsome features that had won the clappings a
hundred times in the Pnyx. The sleep seemed heavy, dreamless.

Themistocles's own lips tightened as he stood in contemplation, then he
bent to touch the other's shoulder.

"Democrates,"--no answer. "Democrates,"--still silence. "Democrates,"--a
stirring, a clanking of metal. The eyes opened,--for one instant a smile.

"_Ei_, Themistocles, it is you?" to be succeeded by a flash of unspeakable
horror. "O Zeus, the gyves! That I should come to this!"

The prisoner rose to a sitting posture upon his truss of straw. His
fettered hands seized his head.

"Peace," ordered the admiral, gently. "Do not rave. I have sent the
sentries away. No one will hear us."

Democrates grew calmer. "You are merciful. You do not know how I was
tempted. You will save me."

"I will do all I can." Themistocles's voice was solemn as an aeolian harp,
but the prisoner caught at everything eagerly.

"Ah, you can do so much. Pausanias fought the battle, but they call you
the true saviour of Hellas. They will do anything you say."

"I am glad." Themistocles's face was impenetrable as the sphinx's.
Democrates seized the admiral's red chlamys with his fettered hands.

"You will save me! I will fly to Sicily, Carthage, the Tin Isles, as you
wish. Have you forgotten our old-time friendship?"

"I loved you," spoke the admiral, tremulously.

"Ah, recall that love to-night!"

"I do."

"O piteous Zeus, why then is your face so awful? If you will aid me to
escape--"

"I will aid you."

"Blessings, blessings, but quick! I fear to be stoned to death by the
soldiers in the morning. They threaten to crucify--"

"They shall not."

"Blessings, blessings,--can I escape to-night?"

"Yes," but Themistocles's tone made the prisoner's