Antagoras motioned to his cup-bearer. "Tell the leader of that dancing choir to come hither." The cupbearer obeyed.
A man with a solemn air came to the foot of the Chian's couch, bowing low. He was an Egyptian—one of the meanest castes.
"Swarthy friend," said Antagoras, "didst thou ever hear of the Pyrrhic dance of the Spartans?"
"Surely, of all dances am I teacher and preceptor."
"Your girls know it, then?"
"Somewhat, from having seen it; but not from practice. 'Tis a male dance and a warlike dance, O magnanimous, but, in this instance, untutored, Chian!"
"Hist, and listen." Antagoras whispered. The Egyptian nodded his head, returned to the dancing girls, and when their measure had ceased, gathered them round him.
Antagoras again rose.
"Companions, we are bound now to do homage to our masters—the pleasant, affable and familiar warriors of Sparta."
At this the guests gave way to their applauding laughter.