"Welcome, Athenian!" she said, in a studied but harmonious voice. "Those who come from over there are ever masters in my house. The banquet to-night shall be in your honor, for no one can be king of the feast and direct conversation like a son of Athens."
Actæon, somewhat stirred by the presence of a beautiful woman enveloped by intoxicating perfumes, began to speak of her house, of his astonishment at its magnificence in that barbarian land, and of the admiration which its owner enjoyed in the city. Everyone he met had spoken to him of Sónnica the rich!
"Yes, they like me; yet sometimes they censure me; but let us speak of you, Actæon; tell me who you are. Your life must be as interesting as that of old Ulysses. Tell me first what new thing there is in Athens."
For a long time the two Greeks maintained an incessant chattering. She was eager to know what courtesans triumphed in the Cerameicus and set the fashions; merry, unconsciously harking back to the life of old, forgetful of her princely opulence in Saguntum, as if she were still in the house in the Street of Tripods, and Actæon one of the poor artists who visited her of an afternoon to discuss affairs of the city, in the intimacy of comrades. She laughed at the latest witticisms of the idlers in the Agora, at the song in vogue the year before, when Actæon left Athens; and with frowning brow and the gravity of a goddess, she listened to a detailed relation of the recent changes of fashion and of the style of coiffure used by the most celebrated hetæræ.
The curiosity of the exiled Athenian being satisfied, she longed to penetrate the adventurous life of her guest, and Actæon told his story simply. Born in Athens, he had been taken to Carthage at twelve years of age. His father, in the service of the African republic, fought with Hamilcar in Sicily. In a village in the interior the selfsame slave attended the son of the Greek mercenary and a lion-cub of Hamilcar, who was at that time only four years of age. It was Hannibal. The Athenian recalled the blows he had often dealt the savage youngster in exchange for bites with which the African surprised him in the midst of their games. The revolt of the mercenaries broke out with those horrors which gave it the name of "the truceless war," and his father, who had remained faithful to Carthage and would not take up arms with his companions, was despite his loyalty crucified by the Carthaginian populace, who, forgetting his wounds received in the service of the Republic, saw in him only a foreigner, a friend of Hamilcar who was hated by the partisans of Hanno. The son miraculously escaped these red-handed reprisals; and Hamilcar's faithful slave smuggled him aboard ship for Athens.
There, under the protection of relatives, he received the education of all young Greeks. He won prizes in the Gymnasium, in wrestling, in running, and in throwing the discus; he learned to ride unbridled horses bareback, balancing himself merely by resting his toe in a groove of the lance; to temper the rudeness of this education he was taught to play the lyre and to sing verses in diverse styles, and being strong of body and mind, he was sent, as were all Athenian youths, to pass his military apprenticeship in the garrisons on the frontier.
The monotony of this existence bored him; it was dull, and he loved pleasure; the blood of his forefathers, soldiers of fortune all, surged through his body; and he ran away from Attica to take charge of a fishing fleet in the Euxine Sea. Then he became a navigator, trading on land and sea; his caravans threaded Asia, through warlike tribes, and among peoples who dwelt in the lethargy of a remote and decadent civilization. He was a powerful personage in the court of some tyrants who admired him on seeing him drink at a gulp an amphora of perfumed wine, and overcome the giants of the guard in a boxing match with the agile dexterity of a true Athenian; and, loaded with riches, he built a palace in Rhodes near the sea, and he gave banquets which lasted three days and nights. The earthquake which flung down the Colossus, also destroyed his fortune; his ships were sunk, his warehouses full of merchandise disappeared beneath the waves, and he began again his pilgrimage roundabout the world; in some places he was a singing master, in others a military instructor of the young men, until, attracted by the Spartan war, he enlisted in the army of Cleomenes, the last Greek hero, accompanying him at the moment in which, vanquished, he embarked for Alexandria. Poor, disappointed, convinced that riches would never return to him, saddened at seeing the whole world filled with the names of Carthage and Rome, while that of Greece was sinking into oblivion, he had come to take final refuge in Saguntum, the small and almost unknown Republic, in search of bread and of peace. Perhaps, in this retired spot, if war did not disturb its calm, he would write the history of his adventures.
Sónnica followed his narrative with interest, fixing upon Actæon a glance of sympathy.
"And you, who have been a hero and a potentate, have come to serve this city as a simple mercenary?"
"Mopsus the archer has promised to give me a post of distinction among his troops."