[I] An Attic talent was equal to about eleven hundred dollars.
V.
Hipyllos and Myrmex had now reached the closely-built Cerameicus. But even the great market which, half steeped in moonlight, half veiled in deep shadow, lay outspread before them with its temples, arcades, booths, altars, hermae, and statues—even here there was little movement.
Most of the people had long since returned from the gymnasia, freedmen and slaves had performed the duties of the day, and after sunset children were not permitted to play outside of the doors of the houses.
Yet life was not wholly silent. Laughter and song echoed from the wine-shops, and the heavy grating of the stone-saws was heard from many a sculptor’s; for in those days sculptors had so much to do that their slaves were often obliged to work in the evening and part of the night. Ever and anon the hooting of owls sounded from their countless hidden holes in the cliffs and, as usual in the autumn, there was heard, like voices from another world, the wailing notes of invisible birds of passage calling to each other in the night as they flew at a dizzy height above the city.
Hipyllos turned into a side street, which led from the superb street extending from the Dipylum Gate to a long hill in the Melitan quarter. Here he told Myrmex to extinguish the torch; then after looking around him and listening, till he thought himself sure that no one was following, he directed his steps towards a solitary house at the foot of the height which, seen in the moonlight, presented a peculiar aspect.
It had a hyperoon or upper story which extended only over part of the building and was reached by a staircase on the outside. It was an old-fashioned, but very convenient style of architecture, especially when this upper story was used for guest rooms. In those days, when taverns were almost unknown, nearly every house annually received visits from distant guests who, on the great festivals, came to Athens to attend the processions and torch-races, or the performances in the Theatre of Dionysus. Both stories were so low that a man, by standing on another’s shoulders, could have reached the roof with a staff. Nevertheless, the house had a certain air of distinction from being enthroned on a huge limestone rock, in whose crumbling sides ten or twelve steps were hewn.
As Hipyllos and his companion went towards the dwelling there was a rustling on the outside staircase, and the figure of a boy with closely-cropped hair suddenly appeared outlined against the grey evening sky—doubtless a young slave stationed to keep watch. At the sight of the approaching forms he began to sing at the top of his voice, apparently to attract the attention of the inmates of the house, the beginning of the old Harmodius chorus:
“Never has Athens possessed such a man,
Never did citizen so serve the city....”
Then he suddenly stopped and, in the stillness, which seemed doubly as profound as before, a dog was heard barking within the dwelling. Hipyllos went up to the door of the house and signed to Myrmex to knock with the copper ring. Scarcely had the heavy blow fallen, when a frantic deafening barking was heard, interrupted by a short howl as though the dog had been silenced by a kick. A heavy step approached inside and a rough voice asked: