“The last is all too true, great sir.”
“Which means you will not pray your gods too hard for my defeat? ha?”
Glaucon blushed, then looked up boldly.
“A Persian king, I know, loves truth-telling. I still love and pray for Athens, even if unknown enemies conspired against me.”
“Humph! You can learn our other virtues later. Are you blind to my power? If so, I pity more than I blame you.”
“The king is kind,” returned Glaucon, putting by a part of his hauteur. “I would not anger him. I only know he would rather have men say, ‘Xerxes conquered a proud nation, hard to subdue,’ than, ‘He conquered a feeble race of whining slaves.’ ”
“Excellent! In all save your vain confidence of victory, you seem wise beyond your youth. You are handsome. You are noble—”
“Very noble,” interposed Mardonius.
“And you saved the lives of Mardonius and Artazostra. Did you know their nobility when you rescued them?”
“Not so. I would not let them drown like sheep.”