“I’ll scarce believe it,” grunted the juror; yet then confessed somewhat ruefully, “however, he is unfortunate in his bosom friend.”
“What do you mean?” demanded the potter.
“Glaucon the Alcmæonid, to be sure. I cried ‘Io, pæan!’ as loud as the others when he came back; still I weary of having a man always so fortunate.”
“Even as you voted to banish Aristeides, Themistocles’s rival, because you were tired of hearing him called ‘the Just.’ ”
“There’s much in that. Besides, he’s an Alcmæonid, and since their old murder of Cylon the house has been under a blood curse. He has married the daughter of Hermippus, [pg 65]who is too highly born to be faithful to the democracy. He carries a Laconian cane,—sure sign of Spartanizing tendencies. He may conspire any day to become tyrant.”
“Hush,” warned Clearchus, “there he passes now, arm in arm with Democrates as always, and on his way to the assembly.”
“The men are much alike in build,” spoke Crito, slowly, “only Glaucon is infinitely handsomer.”
“And infinitely less honest. I distrust your too beautiful and too lucky men,” snapped Polus.
“Envious dog,” commented Agis; and bitter personalities might have followed had not a bell jangled from an adjacent portico.
“Phormio, my brother-in-law, with fresh fish from Phaleron,” announced Polus, drawing a coin from his wonted purse,—his cheek; “quick, friends, we must buy our dinners.”