E’en so welcome in her sight
Was her lord, her arms long clasped him,
And her eyes shone pure and bright.”
After a long time Glaucon commanded, “Bring me our child,” and Cleopis gladly obeyed. Phœnix ceased weeping and thrust his red fists in his father’s face.
“Ei, pretty snail,” said Glaucon, pressing him fast by one hand, whilst he held his mother by the other, “if I say you are a merry wight, the nurse will not marvel any more.”
But Hermione had already heard from Niobe of the adventure in the market-place at Trœzene.
The young men were just taking up the litter, when the Agora again broke into cheers. Themistocles, saviour of Hellas, had crossed to Glaucon. The admiral—never more worshipped than now, when every plan he wove seemed perfect as a god’s—took Glaucon and Hermione, one by each hand.
“Ah, philotatoi,” he said, “to all of us is given by the sisters above so much bliss and so much sorrow. Some drink the bitter first, some the sweet. And you have drained the bitter to the lees. Therefore look up at the Sun-King boldly. He will not darken for you again.”
“Where now?” asked Hermione, in all things looking to her husband.
“To the Acropolis,” ordered Glaucon. “If the temple is desolate, the Rock is still holy. Let us give thanks to Athena.”