“for now at least the soil is free,

now that one strong reviving breath

has chased the eastern tyranny

which to the greek was ever death.”

lord houghton.

most conspicuous among the few houses left in the city after the departure of the persians was one that stood at no great distance from the acropolis. it was a typical home of the upper-class athenian citizen. its narrow stone front with a massive door and its two closely barred windows at the second story did not present a very imposing aspect, but if one desired admittance and felt disposed to make use of the polished bronze knocker with which the door was equipped, his impressions of inhospitality were immediately dispelled by the appearance of a slave who courteously bade him enter.

102

looking down a short hallway one beheld an open court surrounded by a colonnade and in the center of this court stood an altar to zeus. it was here on pleasant days that the family assembled for worship, partook of its meals, entered into friendly discussions or played games. the women’s apartments were above, theirs being the barred windows which looked out on the narrow winding street. the kitchen and servant quarters occupied the rear, but by far the most interesting room was that which adjoined the court to the left; the library. as if by a miracle this room remained intact. its shelves were filled with hundreds of rolls of manuscript, some slightly charred but undamaged by fire. at intervals about the room, upon marble pedestals stood statuettes of the muses, for this was the library of a poet, and could he not thus readily summon the muse he desired?

if one were able to tell the time of day by the shadow-pointer in the nearby public square, he would know that it was shortly past the noon hour. four men were seated in the library, three of them young, the fourth, slightly past middle-age, was the master of the house, the poet pasicles.

as he sat facing his friends, surrounded by his beloved muses and scrolls, he appeared the personification of dignity and aristocracy. his features were clearly and delicately cut, his face thin, his forehead high and intellectual. the folds of a white linen chiton draped the long lines of his figure. the three younger men were cimon, polygnotus and zopyrus. the soft notes of a flute came from the direction of the court.

“your young son plays the flute remarkably well. may i ask who is his teacher?” asked polygnotus.

“the pedagogue, niceratus, has given mimnermus instructions in flute playing. it is an art in which i wish the lad to become proficient. the bœotians have ever excelled with the flute and i would not have mimnermus less skilled in the art than his grandfather for whom he is named.”

103

“in my opinion,” said cimon, “a youth can spend his time more profitably than with music. think you that with the persian expelled, all warfare is past? remember athens is an object of envy to sparta, thebes and corinth, to say nothing of such islands as aegina, samos and naxos, and who knows what may take place when mimnermus is in his early manhood!”

“i believe all sciences and arts should form a part of every man’s education,” replied the poet quietly, “but to each one should be allowed the privilege to specialize in that particular phase of culture which is dearest to his heart.”

cimon laughed good-naturedly. “i confess my tastes are one-sided too, but i truly believe that our new friend, zopyrus, is equally skilled with the sword or the pen. i swear by the gods i never saw mortal man fight more heroically than he at platæa, and yet he can recite the works of homer, hesiod and sappho, and is well acquainted with the histories of persia, babylonia, assyria and egypt!”

“nevertheless,” remarked zopyrus to whom all eyes were now turned, “i admire a specialist and will say that i hope to cultivate the arts more assiduously. i do not enjoy fighting, but god has given me a strong body and i hope the ability to judge correctly between right and wrong.”

pasicles leaned forward in his chair and looked with peculiar interest at the young stranger.

“do you know the tragedian, aeschylus?” he asked.

zopyrus replied in the negative, wondering at his host’s question.

104

“your statement that god has given you a strong body,” continued the poet, “is a peculiar one. among the numerous friends of my profession, aeschylus alone speaks frequently of ‘god.’ does it not seem strange that he exalts zeus so far above the others, each one of whom has his or her interest in the affairs of men?”

“no it does not appear strange to me, for i have often wondered at the petty jealousies existing between the gods and even between them and mortals,” answered the persian.

“but,” said pasicles earnestly, “the envy of the gods is just and divine. have you never noticed that if a mortal rises to too great heights here below, some god will surely cause his downfall?”

“that, my friend,” said zopyrus, seriously interested, “is not the envy of the gods, but the natural result of arrogance and pride.”

“as i can well testify,” said cimon sadly, “for was not my father miltiades, the greatest man in all greece after marathon? and did he not at the very summit of his glory, stoop to avenge some petty wrong and thus die an ignoble death? it seems that with complete success, passes that good judgment which is ever present as we strive to attain some worthy end.”

“the fate of your hapless parent,” said pasicles, “should prove a warning, but alas, man is little content to profit by the sad experiences of his forefathers. each one must learn for himself in the school of life, and many there be who, in the realization of success, do not lose their power of judgment, and such as these are partially rewarded by the gods here on earth.”

105

“what do you think of our statesman, themistocles?” asked polygnotus. “is he not of the type likely to lose his head over his popularity, for truly one must admit his advice about salamis was a turning point in our affairs with persia.”

“in truth,” replied pasicles, “i like not this blustering statesman any too well. my sympathies have always been with his rival, the just aristides whose policies are not for the purpose of display, and whose reserved manner has won the confidence of the refined, thinking people.”

“themistocles has the interest of athens truly at heart, and the people have just awakened to a realization of this,” said another voice from the doorway.

zopyrus looked up and saw a stranger, to him at least, whose gaze after it had fallen upon each of his three companions, rested in final friendly curiosity upon him. his waving hair and short beard of rich chestnut brown framed a face of surprising manly beauty, the face of a man about the age of pasicles. his forehead was smooth and broad, the brows rather prominent, the eyes meditative, but containing indications of a hidden fire which might leap forth were their owner challenged to uphold a conviction.

“welcome into our midst, aeschylus,” exclaimed pasicles rising and extending his hands to the newcomer. “we will not continue to argue about themistocles and aristides as we have been wont to do. you are acquainted with the soldier and the artist, are you not, but here is a stranger to you i am sure, zopyrus who fought bravely at platæa.”

106

the tragedian, aeschylus, crossed the room and seated himself by the side of zopyrus, who wondered at his searching gaze but did not resent it. above all things the sincerity of aeschylus greatly impressed him. the poet seemed to be one who was forever searching after truth. zopyrus regretted that he had read none of the plays of this great man. he knew that his fame was due principally to his powers as an advocate of the truth, painful though that truth might be, and to the fact that he did not avoid the difficult problems of life, but faced them with earnest zeal and saw them through to the finish. of the mighty and forceful language which conveyed his ideas, as opposed to the more elaborate and artificial style of pasicles, zopyrus had heard, and he enjoyed the privilege of conversing with the great poet.

two kindred souls had intercourse through the eyes and the medium of conversation. an attachment which time would strengthen sprang up between the young persian and the older poet, such a friendship as was not uncommon among the athenians, where a man of maturer years lived again in a younger man the joys and possibilities that might have been his, and where a youth looked with reverence to an older companion whom he worshipped as a hero.

presently pasicles arose, and leading the way through the court, bade his guests follow. soon they found themselves in a garden, strolling along paths bordered with trees, flowers and shrubs, opening here and there to reveal a statue of some sylvan god reclining under the shade. an aged gardener was tending the flowers with loving care.

107

“where are the women, hagnias?” asked pasicles as the five men approached.

“under the arbor near the fountain,” was the reply.

it was as hagnias had said. upon a stone bench and a large high-backed stone chair were seated three women. the woman in the chair arose smilingly when she beheld the men and approached pasicles who pressed an affectionate kiss upon her smooth white forehead.

“cleodice my wife, and my daughters, eumetis and corinna, this is zopyrus who is to be a guest in our home for awhile. the others you know.”

the matronly cleodice heartily bade zopyrus welcome and her sentiments were echoed by her daughters. corinna who resembled her mother, especially in the wealth of auburn hair which both possessed acknowledged the introduction and then made her way to the other side of the fountain to where polygnotus stood gazing into the mirror-like surface, and zopyrus as his eyes followed these two, knew that love existed between them.

the other daughter, eumetis, who seemed the feminine counterpart of her father, was her sister’s senior by at least a year. she did not possess the physical loveliness of corinna but her plainer features expressed sincerity and selfishness almost to a fault. one knew that the plain exterior harbored a soul that would give and continue to give for the sake of those she loved. if it is possible to possess selfishness to a fault it is where one’s greatest joy comes from seeing others happy and this was true of the elder daughter of the poet. if self is the only prison that can ever confine the soul, eumetis was as free as the birds of the air.

108

“amid such charming surroundings as these, one ought never to be sad,” said zopyrus to eumetis after the introduction. “it seems a miracle that this lovely home was spared. do you happen to know why it escaped pillage?”

“some say,” replied the daughter of pasicles, “that it was spared out of respect to my dear father, but he modestly refutes this and claims that because of its size and proximity to the city, it was chosen as quarters for persian officers. even the altar to zeus remained unprofaned and the manuscripts, many of them, were just as my father had left them.”

“although this is indeed a lovely spot, i shall not test your hospitality to the limit. i intend to help rebuild athens, and soon with the combined efforts of many, there will be homes for all,” said zopyrus smiling into the girl’s serious face.

“indeed,” she said, “we shall be delighted to have you with us. my father has spoken very well of you and says you have offered to copy some of his odes for him.”

“that is very small payment in return for lodgment in this miniature paradise,” the youth returned gallantly.

109

eumetis laughed and blushed. “our paradise on earth is a good deal what we make it. true joy comes from within, happiness from without. i have tried to cultivate the spirit of joy, but believe i have failed miserably. with corinna it is different. she is always gay. happiness comes to her unasked, so i believe she has a well of joy within her.”

the man and the girl looked in the direction of the fountain to where polygnotus and corinna sat together on the edge of the marble basin.

“polygnotus has been a caller here for some time,” continued eumetis. “the horrors of recent events have delayed but not altered his purpose.”

“i could wish your sister no greater happiness,” said zopyrus, “for i admire this artist very much.”

“yes, polygnotus is fortunate indeed in possessing the love of the girl whom he admires, but his most intimate friend, cimon, has not been so successful where affairs of the heart are concerned. he has not seen his sweetheart since he returned from aegina, and he does not know what fate may have befallen her. she was not among those who fled to troezen and salamis.”

“that is truly most sad,” replied zopyrus with feeling. “it may be that when the city is back again to its normal condition, she will appear. if she loves cimon she will return to him.”

“ah, but there lies the difficulty,” said eumetis, “she does not love him. i called her his sweetheart wrongly, for it is purely a one-sided affair, and i fear that she will never return. cimon idolizes her, and would have made her his wife ere this, but she refused. can you think of anything more tragic than unrequited love?”

110

“it is most unfortunate, but i believe unusual, for in my opinion true love has its origin in a mutual attraction, for we creatures, of dust though we be, are conceited enough that we love those who love us. there are exceptions, of course.”

eumetis turned away. “the exceptions often prove the rule, and unfortunate are they whose lives give proof of this.”

they joined the others as did polygnotus and corinna, and all entered the house to partake of refreshments.