“Ohioh!” cried Alcibiades, “Tralall! Ha! Ha! Ha! The table wobbles, the sofa rocks; am I drunk, or is the room drunk?”
All were alarmed, but Socrates commanded quiet. “A god is near! The earth shakes, and I hear ... does it thunder? No! That is an earthquake.”
All jumped up, but Socrates continued, “Be quiet! It is already past.”
After they had all taken their places again, he continued: “I was five years old when Sparta was visited by an earthquake; twenty thousand men perished, and only six houses remained standing. Then it was Sparta. Now it is Athens. Yes, friends, a voice says to me, ‘Before a babe can become a man, we shall have been dispersed and destroyed like a bevy of birds.’”
Again the dog barked, and the door-keeper shouted. There entered an uninvited guest in a state of excitement.
Alcibiades greeted him. “It is Nicias,” he said. “Now I will be sober; the thoughtful Nicias comes to our feast. What is the matter?”
“Allow an uninvited guest.”
“Speak, Nicias!”
“Pericles!” began the new-comer hesitatingly, “your friend, our friend, the glory of Athens and Hellas,—Phidias is accused....”
“Stop! Silence!”