“The wine is good, Democrates?” began Lycon.
“Excellent.”
“I presume you have arranged your wagers to-morrow with your usual prudence.”
“How do you know about them?”
“Oh, my invaluable Hiram, who arranged this interview for us through Bias, has made himself a brother to all the betting masters. I understand you have arranged it so that whether Glaucon wins or loses you will be none the poorer.”
The Athenian set down his cup.
“Because I would not let my dear friend’s sanguine expectations blind all my judgment is no reason why you should seek this interview, Lycon,” he rejoined tartly. “If this is the object of your summons, I’m better back in my own tent.”
Lycon tilted back against the table. His speech was nothing curt or “Laconic”; it was even drawling. “On the contrary, dear Democrates, I was only commending your excellent foresight, something that I see characterizes all you do. You are the friend of Glaucon. Since Aristeides has been banished, only Themistocles exceeds you in influence over the Athenians. Therefore, as a loyal Athenian you must support your champion. Likewise, as a man of judgment you must see that I—though this pentathlon is only a by-play, not my business—will probably break your Glaucon’s back to-morrow. It is precisely this good judgment on your part which makes me sure I do well to ask an interview—for something else.”
“Then quickly to business.”
“A few questions. I presume Themistocles to-day conferred with Leonidas?”