“Thief!” he thought; “it is your work!” and he passed his big hand over his face to hide his tears. He longed to throw himself at his master’s feet and clasp his knees.
Simonides did not rise when Lycon entered, but gave him his hand and greeted him kindly.
“Welcome!” he said. “You are Phorion’s friend, I hear, and bring a greeting and message from him. How is his blind father? Does Praxagoras, the physician from Cos, think he will succeed in restoring his lost sight?”
Lycon could not answer; he knew nothing about Phorion’s father.
“How is his wife, who was so ill after the birth of her last child?”
Lycon knew nothing of Phorion’s wife either. He felt extremely uncomfortable, tried to turn the conversation into another channel and, by way of explanation, added carelessly:
“I know Phorion only in the market, the arcades, and other places where men daily meet in Athens. He has never spoken of his family.”
Simonides raised his head and looked intently at Lycon.
“Ah!” he exclaimed, apparently with some little disappointment. “I thought that you and Phorion were intimate friends. There is an old acquaintanceship between us, dating from the time when his father and I were both young.”
The conversation now took a different turn, as Simonides asked for news from Athens. This was a subject on which Lycon could talk, and the more freely because relieved from his worst fear. Simonides evidently had not recognized him. His long hair and thick beard, especially his heavy eyebrows, which he had had clipped very frequently to make them large and bushy, had entirely changed his appearance.