During that night, and part of the following day, the two faithful attendants remained in a state of melancholy indecision. At last, Geta said, "I will go once more in search of Pandænus; and if he has not yet returned, I have resolved what to do. To-day I saw one of the slaves of Artaphernes buying olives; and he said he must have the very best, because his master was to give a feast to-night. Among other guests, he spoke of Alcibiades; and he is one that is always sure to stay late at his wine. While he is feasting, I will go to Salamis. His steward often bought anchovies of me at Phalerum. He is a countryman of mine; and I know he is as avaricious as an Odomantian. I think money will bribe him to carry a message to Eudora, and to place a ladder near the outer wall for her escape. He is intrusted with all the keys, and can do it if he will. And if he can get gold enough by it, I believe he will trust Hermes to help him settle with his master, as he has done many a time before this. I will be in readiness at the Triton's Cove, and bring her back to Athens as fast as oars can fly."
"Do so, dear Geta," replied Milza; "but disguise yourself from the other servants, and take with you the robe and veil that I wear to market. Then if Eudora could only walk a little more like a fish-woman, she might pass very well. But be sure you do not pay the steward till you have her at the boat's edge; for he that will play false games with his master, may do the same by you."
Necessary arrangements were speedily made. Geta resolved to offer the earnings of his whole life as a bribe, rather than intrust the secret of his bold expedition to any of the household of Clinias; and Milza, fearful that their own store would not prove a sufficient temptation, brought forth a sum of money found in Eudora's apartment, together with a valuable necklace, which had been a birth-day present from Phidias.
It was past midnight when three figures emerged from the shadow of the high wall surrounding the mansion of Alcibiades, and with cautious haste proceeded toward the cove. Before they could arrive at the beach, a large and gaily-trimmed boat was seen approaching the shore, from the direction of the Piræus. It was flaming with torches; and a band of musicians poured out upon the undulating waters a rich flood of melody, rendered more distinct and soft by the liquid element over which it floated. One of the fugitives immediately turned, and disappeared within the walls they had left; the other two concealed themselves in a thick grove, the darkness of which was deepened by the glare of torches along its borders. A man richly dressed, with several fillets on his head, and crowned with a garland of violets, ivy, and myrtle, stepped from the boat, supported by the arm of a slave. His countenance was flushed with wine, and as he reeled along, he sung aloud:
"Have I told you all my flames,
'Mong the amorous Syrian dames?
Have I numbered every one
Glowing under Egypt's sun!
Or the nymphs, who, blushing sweet,
Deck the shrine of Love in Crete—
Where the God, with festal play,
Holds eternal holiday?"
"Castor and Polydeuces!" whispered Geta, "there goes Alcibiades. He has returned from his wine earlier than usual; but so blinded by the merry god, that he would not have known us, if we had faced the glare of his torches."
"Oh, hasten! hasten!" said Eudora, weeping and trembling, as she spoke. "I beseech you do not let a moment be lost."
As Alcibiades and his train disappeared, they left the grove, and hurried toward their boat; keeping as much as possible within the shadow of the trees. They reached the cove in safety, and Geta rowed with unwonted energy; but he was single-handed, and Salamis was many stadia from Athens. Long before he arrived at the place were he had been accustomed to land, they heard the sound of distant oars plied with furious rapidity.
They landed, and with the utmost haste proceeded toward the city. Eudora, fearful of being overtaken, implored Geta to seek refuge behind the pillars of Poseidon's temple. Carefully concealing themselves in the dense shadow, they remained without speaking, and almost without breathing, until their pursuers had passed by. The moment these were out of hearing, they quitted their hiding-place, and walked swiftly along the Piræus. Intense fear imparted a degree of strength, which the maiden, under other circumstances, would have hardly deemed it possible to exert. She did not for a moment relax her speed, until they came within sight of the Areopagus, and heard noisy shouts, apparently not far distant. Eudora, sinking with fatigue and terror, entreated Geta not to attempt any approach to the house of Clinias, where her enemies would certainly be lying in wait for them. With uncertain steps they proceeded toward the great Gate of the Acropolis, until the helpless maiden, frightened at the approaching noise, stopped suddenly, and burst into a flood of tears.
"There is one place of safety, if you have courage to try it," said Geta: "We are nearly under the Propylæa; and close beside us is the grotto of Creüsa. Few dare to enter it in the day-time, and no profane steps will venture to pass the threshold after nightfall; for it is said the gods often visit it, and fill it with strange sights and sounds. Shall we enter?"