“I know I shall win, father,” said Creon softly. “Four nights ago Hermes appeared to me in my sleep and smiled upon me. I awoke suddenly and there was a strange, sweet perfume in the air.”
Tears sprang into his father’s eyes. “Now blessed be the gods!” he cried, “and most blessed Hermes, the god of the gymnasium!”
After a little Menon and Charmides said farewell and went away through the chattering crowd and up under the cool trees on Mount Kronion to their camp. The slaves had cut poles and set them up and thrown a wide linen cover over them. Under it they had put a little table holding lumps of brown cheese, a flat loaf of bread, a basket of figs, a pile of crisp lettuce. Just outside the tent grazed a few goats. A man in a soiled tunic was squatted milking one. Menon’s slave stood waiting and, as his master came up, he took the big red bowl of foaming milk and carried it to the table. The goatherd picked up his long crook and started his flock on, calling, “Milk! Milk to sell!”
Menon was gay now. His worries were over. His camp was pitched in a pleasant place. His son was well and sure of victory.
“Come, little son,” he called to Charmides. “You must be as hungry as a wolf. But first our thanks to the gods.”
A slave had poured a little wine into a flat cup and stood now offering it to his master. Menon took it and held it high, looking up into the blue heavens.
“O gracious Hermes!” he cried aloud, “fulfill thy omen! And to Zeus, the father, and to all the immortals be thanks.”
As he prayed he turned the cup and spilled the wine upon the ground. That was the god’s portion. A slave spread down a rug for his master to lie upon and put cushions under his elbow. Glaucon did the same for Charmides, and the meal began. Menon talked gaily about their journey, the games to-morrow, Creon’s training. But Charmides was silent. At last his father said:
“Well, little wolf, you surely are gulping! Are you so starved?”
“No,” said Charmides with full mouth. “I’m in a hurry. I want to see things.”