Chapter XIX.
Whate'er thou givest, generous let it be.
EURIPIDES.
When it was rumoured that Artaphernes had ransomed Eudora and Geta, by offering the entire sum demanded for the ivory, many a jest circulated in the agoras, at the expense of the old man who had given such an enormous price for a handsome slave; but when it became known, that he had, in some wonderful and mysterious manner, discovered a long-lost daughter, the tide of public feeling was changed.
Alcibiades at once remitted his claim, which in fact never had any foundation in justice; he having accepted two statues in payment for the ivory, previous to the death of Phidias. He likewise formally asked Eudora in marriage; humbly apologizing for the outrage he had committed, and urging the vehemence of his love as an extenuation of the fault.
Artaphernes had power to dispose of his daughter without even making any inquiry concerning the state of her affections; but the circumstances of his past life induced him to forbear the exercise of his power.
"My dear child," said he, "it was my own misfortune to suffer by an ill-assorted marriage. In early youth, my parents united me with Artaynta, a Persian lady, whose affections had been secretly bestowed upon a near kinsman. Her parents knew of this fact, but mine were ignorant of it. It ended in wretchedness and disgrace. To avoid the awful consequences of guilt, she and her lover eloped to some distant land, where I never attempted to follow them.
Some time after, the Great King was graciously pleased to appoint me Governor of the sea-coast in Asia Minor. I removed to Ephesus, where I saw and loved your blessed mother, the beautiful Antiope, daughter of Diophanes, priest of Zeus. I saw her accidentally at a fountain, and watched her unobserved, while she bathed the feet of her little sister. Though younger than myself, she reciprocated the love she had inspired. Her father consented to our union; and for a few years I enjoyed as great happiness as Oromasdes ever bestows on mortals. You were our only child; named Artaminta, in remembrance of my mother. You were scarcely two years old, when you and your nurse suddenly disappeared. As several other women and children were lost at the same time, we supposed that you were stolen by pirates. All efforts to ascertain your fate proved utterly fruitless. As moon after moon passed away, bringing no tidings of our lost treasure, Antiope grew more and more hopeless. She was a gentle, tender-hearted being, that complained little and suffered much. At last, she died broken-hearted."
After remaining in silent thoughtfulness for a few moments, he added: "Of my two sons by Artaynta, one died in childhood; the other was killed in battle, before I came to Athens. I had never ceased my exertions to discover you; but after I became childless, it was the cherished object of existence. Some information received from Phœnician sailors led to the conclusion that I owed my misfortune to Greek pirates; and when the Great King informed me that he had need of services in Athens, I cherfully undertook the mission."
"Having suffered severely in my own marriage, I would not willingly endanger your happiness by any unreasonable exercise of parental authority. Alcibiades is handsome, rich, and of high rank. How do you regard his proposal of marriage?"
The colour mounted high in Eudora's cheek, and she answered hastily, "As easily could I consent to be the wife of Tereus, after his brutal outrage on the helpless Philomela. I have nothing but contempt to bestow on the man who persecuted me when I was friendless, and flatters me when I have wealthy friends."