"Good! Cleonice torments thee no more. I myself have gone through thy trials; ay, and oftentimes. Seven times at Samos, five at Rhodes, once at Miletus, and forty-three times at Corinth, have I been an impassioned and unsuccessful lover. Courage; I love still."
Antagoras turned away. By this time the hall was yet more crowded, for many not invited to the supper came, as was the custom with the Greeks, to the Symposium; but these were all of the Ionian race.
"The music is dull without the dancers," cried the host. "Ho, there! the dancing girls. Now would I give all the rest of my wealth to see among these girls one face that yet but for a moment could make me forget—" "Forget what, or whom?" said Uliades; "not Cleonice?"
"Man, man, wilt thou provoke me to strangle thee?" muttered
Antagoras.
Uliades edged himself away.
"Ungrateful!" he cried. "What are a hundred Byzantine girls to one tried male friend?"
"I will not be ungrateful, Uliades, if thou stand by my side against the Spartan."
"Thou art, then, bent upon this perilous hazard?"
"Bent on driving Pausanias from Byzantium, or into Hades—yes."
"Touch!" said Uliades, holding out his right hand. "By Cypris, but these girls dance like the daughters of Oceanus; every step undulates as a wave."