“Nobody, Father. We hear things in the house. We can’t help hearing them. I heard, too, that Argos has Medized. I wanted to tell you that. The Pythia’s answer had nothing to do with it. They Medized long before. They are in actual league with the Persian!”
Nikander looked as if she had dashed water in his face.
“By the thundering Zeus, how did you know that? The priests only made certain of it last night.”
“It’s because I want so much to know, Father, that I learn. And I know that you are in bitter danger from Kobon. Are you sure”—she caught her breath before the plunge—“are you sure you are right? Are you sure that all the states should fight the Persian? Wouldn’t it be better to treat with the Persian just as the Oracle bids us do?”
This time his eyes flashed with anger. “Am I to hear myself flouted,” he said, “by the very women of my household?”
She suddenly threw both arms about his neck in a passion of tears.
“No—no—no—I am not flouting you! Kobon! He may kill you. Any day he may kill you.”
“That side of the question is not to be dwelt upon,” he said severely. He put his arm about her, but his face was like a mask.
“Come with me,” he said.