“The more reason for concealing nothing now.”
“Zeus strike me if I keep back anything. It’s now about ten days since he returned.”
“ ‘He?’ Whom do you mean?”
“It’s not overeasy to tell, kyrie. He calls himself Critias, and wears a long black beard and tangled hair. Phormio brought him home one evening—said he was the prōreus of a Melian trireme caulking at Epidaurus, but was once in the fish trade at Peiræus and an old friend. I told Phormio we had enough these days to fill our own bellies, but my husband would be hospitable. I had to bring out my best honey [pg 363]cakes. Your Lordship knows I take just pride in my honey cakes.”
“Beyond doubt,”—Democrates’s hand twitched with impatience,—“but tell of the stranger.”
“At once, kyrie; well, we all sat down to sup. Phormio kept pressing wine on the fellow as if we had not only one little jar of yellow Rhodian in the cellar. All the time the sailor barely spoke a few words of island Doric, but my heart misgave. He seemed so refined, so handsome. And near the roots of his hair it was not so dark—as if dyed and needing renewal. Trust a woman’s eyes for that. When supper was over Phormio orders me, ‘Up the ladder and to bed. I’ll come shortly, but leave a blanket and pillow for our friend who sleeps on the hearth.’ Your Excellency knows we hired a little house on the ‘Carpenter’s Street,’ very reasonably you will grant—only half a minæ for the winter. I gave the stranger a fine pillow and a blanket embroidered by Stephanium, she was my great-aunt, and left it to me by will, and the beautiful red wool was from Byzantium—”
“But you spoke of Critias?” Democrates could scarce keep upon his seat.
“Yes, kyrie. Well, I warned Phormio not to give him any more wine. Then I went up the ladder. O Mother Demeter, how sharply I listened, but the rascals spoke too low together for me to catch anything, save that Critias had dropped his Doric and spoke good Attic now. At last Phormio came up to me, and I pretended to snore. In the morning, lo! the scoundrelly stranger had slipped away. In the evening he returns late. Phormio harbours him again. So for several nights, coming late, going early. Then to-night he comes a bit before his wont. He and Phormio drank more than common. After Phormio sent me away, they talked a long time and in louder voice.”
“You overheard?” Democrates gripped his arm-chair.
“Yes, kyrie, blessed be Athena! The stranger spoke pure Attic such as your Excellency might use. Many times I heard Hermione named, and yourself once—”