The younger man flushed a little, but his eyes did not brighten. He felt Themistocles’s reservation.
“On what terms?”
“You shall be presented to the Athenians as one who, yielding for a moment to overmastering temptation, has atoned for one error by rendering infinite service.”
“Then I am to be ‘Glaucon the Traitor’ still, even if ‘Glaucon the Repentant Traitor’?”
“Your words are hard, son of Conon; what may I say? Have you any new explanation for the letter to Argos?”
“The old one—I did not write it.”
“Let us not bandy useless arguments. Do you not see I shall be doing all that is possible?”
“Let me think a little.”
The younger Athenian held down his head, and Themistocles saw his brows knitting.
“Son of Neocles,” said Glaucon, at length, “I thank you. You are a just man. Whatever of sorrow has or will be mine, you have no part therein, but I cannot return—not to Hermione and my child—on any terms you name.”