accomplices, the deeper shame of every one-time
friend, the blazoning of your infamy in public evidence through Hellas,
the soldiers howling for your blood, the stoning, perchance the plucking
in pieces. By the gods Olympian, by the gods Infernal, do your past lovers
one last service--drink!"

That was not all Themistocles said, that was all Democrates heard. In his
ears sounded, even once again, the song of the Furies,--never so clearly as
now.

"With scourge and with ban
We prostrate the man
Who with smooth-woven wile
And a fair-faced smile
Hath planted a snare for his friend!
Though fleet, we shall find him,
Though strong, we shall bind him,
Who planted a snare for his friend!"

Nemesis--Nemesis, the implacable goddess, had come for her own at last.

Democrates took the cup.

CHAPTER XLI

THE BRIGHTNESS OF HELIOS

The day that disloyal Thebes surrendered came the tidings of the crowning
of the Hellenes' victories. At Mycale by Samos the Greek fleets had
disembarked their crews and defeated the Persians almost at the doors of
the Great King in Sardis. Artabazus had escaped through Thrace to Asia in
caitiff flight. The war--at least the perilous part thereof--was at end.
There might be more battles with the Barbarian, but no second Salamis or
Plataea.

The Spartans had found the body of Mardonius pierced with five lances--all
in front. Pausanias had honoured the brave dead,--the Persian had been
carried from the battle-ground on a shield, and covered by the red cloak
of a Laconian general. But the body mysteriously disappeared. Its fate was
never known. Perhaps the curious would have gladly heard what Glaucon on
his sick-bed told Themistocles, and what Sicinnus did afterward. Certain
it is that the shrewd Asiatic later displayed a costly ring which the
satrap Zariaspes, Mardonius's cousin, sent him "for a great service to the
house of Gobryas."

* * * * * * *

On the same day that Thebes capitulated the household of Hermippus left
Troezene to return to Athens. When they had told Hermione all that had
befallen,--the great good, the little ill,--she had not fainted, though
Cleopis had been sure thereof. The colour had risen to her cheeks, the
love-light to her eyes. She went to the cradle where Phoenix cooed and
tossed his baby feet.

"Little one, little one," she said, while he bea