“If I know Lysimachus,” said the other, “he will take no offense at what you said. I hope you will see him again. He has worked near the Diomean Gate ever since the wall was commenced. Your energies have not been so concentrated, for if I remember correctly, I have seen you at the gate of Diocharus and upon another occasion you were unloading stones at the north of the city beyond the Acharman Gate.”
“I will tell you the reason for my scattered efforts, though I maintain I have worked diligently wherever I happened to be. I began at the east side of the city, working near the different gates, a half day at a time and traveling northward. I am searching for a girl whom I met at the time of the battle of Salamis. I have not seen her since, and I know not where to find her.”
“Her name?” inquired Abronychus.
“Alas I did not ask it, but her face I can not forget! Eyes that reflect the heaven’s blue, straight brows, delicately chiseled nose, a mouth that——.”
Abronychus threw up his hands in deprecation. “I have not seen her, or I have seen hundreds of her! Which shall I say, my friend? I must be going now and I wish you success in your search for the missing lady.”
After the departure of Abronychus, Zopyrus toiled lifting rocks and pieces of masonry. It was with a feeling of ineffable relief that he heard the orders of the night-guard and saw that others were coming to take the places of those who had labored since mid-afternoon. Presently an approaching female figure caught his eye and in an instant he recognized Ladice whom he had rescued from the coarse Persian officer. She was conversing with an older woman and Zopyrus tried to attract her attention, for from her he hoped to learn the identity of her companion on the Acropolis. The tired workers in their eagerness to get to their homes for rest, pressed between him and Ladice, and he soon lost sight of her. He was pleased to know that she had reached Athens in safety, but his heart was filled with anxiety for the maiden whom he had rescued on the Acropolis.
As Zopyrus passed the Sacred Gate he glanced down the broad white road that he had followed the day he bore in his arms the unconscious Greek girl. The moon back of him shed its soft ethereal light over a scene that had recurred to him again and again in memory. Moved by an unexplainable impulse, he passed through the city-gate and pursued his course along the road that stretched luringly into the distance, bordered by the dusky shadows of olive trees.
Scarcely had he proceeded a furlong when he became aware of a figure several paces ahead. The man, for so it proved to be, was lost in thought and walked slowly, his head bent forward in meditation. Zopyrus’ first impulse was to return to the city, but something familiar in the man’s dress and figure arrested his notice, so he carried out his original intention of taking a moonlight stroll along the Sacred Way. Before the man turned Zopyrus had recognized the poet Aeschylus and simultaneously with the recognition came a feeling of joy that this much revered man could be his companion upon such an occasion. Aeschylus recognized the youth as he approached and placed an arm across his shoulders as together they proceeded to the northwest.
For some moments only the sound of their sandals on the stony pavement broke the stillness, but at length Zopyrus asked: “Did this road stretching into the distance lure you too as you passed the gate?”
“It always entices me, for it is the way to my home. I live at Eleusis.”