“War makes many changes,” rejoined Dion. “Ai! is he beside himself or a kidnapper? He is walking off with the babe.”
The stranger indeed had seemed to forget them all and was going with swift strides up the Agora, but just before Niobe could begin her outcry he wheeled, and brought his merry burden back to the nurse’s arms.
“You ought to be exceeding proud, my girl,” he remarked almost severely, “to have such a precious babe in charge. I trust you are dutiful.”
“So I strive, kyrie, but he grows very strong. One cannot keep the swaddling clothes on him now. They say he will be a mighty athlete like his father.”
“Ah, yes—his father—” The sailor looked down.
“You knew Master Glaucon well?” pressed Dion, itching for a new bit of gossip.
“Well,” answered the sailor, standing gazing on the child as though something held him fascinated, then shot another question. “And does the babe’s lady-mother prosper?”
“She is passing well in body, kyrie, but grievously ill in mind. Hera give her a release from all her sorrow!”
“Sorrow?” The man’s eyes were opening wider, wider. “What mean you?”
“Why, all Trœzene knows it, I’m sure.”