“Forgive me!” she stammered. “I did not know what I was asking.”
With a look in which love conquered the fear of death she raised her eyes to her husband’s face and threw her arms around his neck. Glaucus clasped her waist and went slowly down the steps of the ladder.
When he had reached the last one he paused and glanced up at the ship. But at the sight of the pirates’ curious, malicious faces, which did not express even the faintest touch of compassion, he understood that all hope was over and, too proud to beg for his life, he pressed Charicleia closer to his breast and took the fatal step from the last round of the ladder.
The sea closed over their heads, forming a small, swiftly revolving whirlpool, and through this narrowing circle the too happy mortals, united in death as in life, entered the great unknown country whence no one returns.
LYCON WITH THE BIG HAND.
SECOND YEAR OF THE 103D OLYMPIAD (367 B.C.)
LYCON WITH THE BIG HAND.
I.
Few young men in Athens had so many acquaintances as Lycon, yet he did not possess a single friend. He was courteous to all, but intimate with no one, had a care-free disposition, liked to try his luck at astragals[O] or dice, always knew where the best Chian wine and the prettiest girls could be found, and was never unwilling to lend an acquaintance a few drachmae. So Lycon was universally esteemed, nay people even overlooked certain eccentricities which were contradictory to Attic custom. For instance, he never visited the gymnasium, and when some one spoke to him about it, he carelessly replied: