The little man straightened proudly.
“Simonides of Ceos.”
The crowd drew back by magic. The most bristling Spartan grew respectful. The crier bowed as his ready stylus made the entry.
“Simonides of Ceos, Simonides the most noted poet in Hellas!” cried the first of his two rescuers; “it’s a great honour to have served so famous a man. Pray let me take your hand.”
“With all the joy in the world.” The little poet coloured with delight at the flattery. “You have saved me, I avow, from the forge and anvil of Hephæstus. What a vulgar mob! Do stand apart; then I can try to thank you.”
Aided again by his two protectors, Simonides was soon [pg 6]clear of the whirlpool. Under one of the graceful pines, which girded the long stadium, he recovered breath and looked at leisure upon his new acquaintances. Both were striking men, but in sharp contrast: the taller and darker showed an aquiline visage betraying a strain of non-Grecian blood. His black eyes and large mouth were very merry. He wore his green chiton with a rakishness that proved him anything but a dandy. His companion, addressed as Democrates, slighter, blonder, showed Simonides a handsome and truly Greek profile, set off by a neatly trimmed reddish beard. His purple-edged cloak fell in statuesque folds of the latest mode, his beryl signet-ring, scarlet fillet, and jewelled girdle bespoke wealth and taste. His face, too, might have seemed frank and affable, had not Simonides suddenly recalled an old proverb about mistrusting a man with eyes too close together.
“And now,” said the little poet, quite as ready to pay compliments as to take them, “let me thank my noble deliverers, for I am sure two such valorous young men as you must come of the best blood of Attica.”
“I am not ashamed of my father, sir,” spoke the taller Athenian; “Hellas has not yet forgotten Miltiades, the victor of Marathon.”
“Then I clasp the hand of Cimon, the son of the saviour of Hellas.” The little poet’s eyes danced. “Oh! the pity I was in Thessaly so long, and let you grow up in my absence. A noble son of a noble father! And your friend—did you name him Democrates?”
“I did so.”