“Said he naught of us?” questioned the mother.
“Ay, O Hera. He asked for thee, and thee, too, Psyche. He said only a few words; but they were happy ones. After he had gone, they seemed to me to have come from the smiling lips of his soul. Ah! if it would not break his heart, I would take him away from the camp.”
“When he next comes home, let us ask him to leave the camp,” said Hera.
“Dost thou remember, O my Hera, the night he told us of his promotion? Then he spoke with difficulty; joy choked his words. His handsome young face was as radiant as that of Apollo, who drives the sun on its daily course. To have stemmed the flood of his enthusiasm at that time would have been an outrage. In his roseate view of the future he had us all transported back to the country of our fathers,—back to Corinth, to the city that was the glory of the Hellenes.”
“Verily he shall accomplish his purpose!” exclaimed Psyche, her face flushing with the reflection of her father’s deep emotion.
“Ay, few boys are as buoyant and hopeful as Gannon,” replied Alcmaeon. “He is a thorough Greek. He knows well the history, the language, and the religion of our beloved country. He is a true son of the Iliad.”
“Ay, my Alcmaeon, a true son of the Iliad, and a true son of our ancestors,” added Hera.
“With joy I shall welcome the day when I go to Corinth,” said Psyche, with enthusiasm.
“When shalt thou go?” asked Alcmaeon.
“I know not; but I have the promise of Gyges to go there with me some day. Thou knowest that his ancestors were also of Corinth.”