And so she prattled on, as though he had never left her, full of wit and life and loveliness. The night was fresh and bright, and, as he sat gazing at her once more, a feeling of contentment and delight stole over him.
Three days he stayed with her, bound by the old chain of love. On the fourth morning she told him he must go, and, after the slight morning meal, she bade him farewell—‘for a time,’ she said, as bright and cheerful as on the day when he came back to her; and he went somewhat reluctantly away.
His thoughts were not the bravest as he drew near home. He invented many poor excuses on the way—the busy times, the momentous questions, peace or war—and Kleon had kept him, requiring his counsel. He forgot them all when he knocked at his own door with a forced boldness. The porter opened; he entered with assumed carelessness.
All was silent. There was a scared look upon the faces of the slaves—not a sound except the splashing of the fountain as he crossed the courtyard. He passed on to the inner rooms. The ancestral sacred fire burnt upon the altar. No one appeared. He reached his wife’s room. No one was there.
He searched the women’s rooms, and at last found old Amykla, whose parents had been slaves of Deinomaché, who had nurtured him in childhood and watched over him through all his boyhood; who would gladly have died for him, and had received his wife with the same love and devotion because she was his wife; who had nursed her when his child was born, and tended both with a mother’s care while he was away at Delion. Amykla came with red eyes and unutterable sorrow in her face.
‘Where is Hippareté? Quick, tell me—where is Hippareté?’
‘Hippareté is gone, Alkibiades! She would stay no longer here.’
‘When did she go?’
‘But yesterday. The poor lady waited for two days and nights in tears. “Tell me, Amykla, has he come?” she said each minute. “No, Hippareté, not yet; he will come soon,” said I to cheer her. “Tell me, Amykla, is he hurt?” “Ah, no; we should soon hear if he was hurt. The great affairs of Athens keep him. He will soon be the greatest man in Athens. But yesterday he went to sup with Kleon. Kleon can do nothing without him. They say Kleon will have to go himself to conquer Brasidas, and he wishes Alkibiades to go with him. He dare not fight Brasidas without your Alkibiades. But Alkibiades will not go. He will stay here to lead the people, and protect his wife and child, whom he loves so much.” So I babbled to distract her thoughts, although I knew full well where you were gone. “Bring me,” she said, “the painting of him;” and I brought it, and then, poor lady, she fell a-kissing of it, till I got her to her bed and sat beside her as she sobbed and wept. A troubled sleep came over her at last, and in the morning a slave brought this from Kallias.’
He raised his head and read it.