"As to that, I don't know," the Theban answered, stretching himself with a yawn. "Perhaps the best thing that could happen to us would be to have the Macedonian conquer and rule. It would put an end to our own wars. If matters go on as they have been going, all three of us may be trying to cut each other's throats before the month is out."
"No," Clearchus exclaimed, "that cannot be, because you must promise me to stay here and drink at my wedding feast at the next new moon."
"What, Clearchus! you are going to be married?" Chares cried, springing from his couch. "Who is she?"
"Artemisia, daughter of Theorus," Clearchus answered. "She is the most beautiful—"
"Ho, Cleon, Cleon! Where are you?" Chares shouted at the top of his voice. "Cleon, I say!"
The steward ran into the room in alarm.
"Bring wine of Cyprus, quickly!" Chares cried, waving his arms.
Cleon vanished with a smile, and Chares hastened to embrace his friend with a fervor that threatened to crack his ribs. Leonidas grasped him warmly by the hand, and both showered congratulations upon him.
"We pledge thee!" Chares cried, taking the wine that Cleon brought in a great beaker of carved silver and raising it to his lips, after spilling a portion of its contents in libation.
"May the Gods give thee happiness!" Leonidas said, drinking deep in his turn.