“I have said ‘I have many eyes.’ But to continue. You gave the price of the tackling for six of the triremes with which Themistocles pretends to believe he can beat back my master. Worse still, you have squandered many minæ on flute girls, dice, cock-fights, and other gentle pleasures. In short your patrimony is not merely exhausted but overspent. That, however, is not the most wonderful part of my recital.”
“How dare you pry into my secrets?”
“Be appeased, dear Athenian; it is much more interesting to know you deny nothing of all I say. It is now five months since you were appointed by your sagacious Athenian assembly as commissioner to administer the silver taken from the mines at Laurium and devoted to your navy. You fulfilled the people’s confidence by diverting much of this money to the payment of your own great debts to the banker Pittacus of Argos. At present you are ‘watching the moon,’ [pg 82]as you say here in Athens,—I mean, that at the end of this month you must account to the people for all the money you have handled, and at this hour are at your wits’ ends to know whence the repayment will come.”
“That is all you know of me?”
“All.”
Democrates sighed with relief. “Then you have yet to complete the story, my dear Barbarian. I have adventured on half the cargo of a large merchantman bringing timber and tin from Massalia; I look every day for a messenger from Corinth with news of her safe arrival. Upon her coming I can make good all I owe and still be a passing rich man.”
If the Cyprian was discomposed at this announcement, he did not betray it.
“The sea is frightfully uncertain, good Democrates. Upon it, as many fortunes are lost as are made.”
“I have offered due prayers to Poseidon, and vowed a gold tripod on the ship’s arrival.”
“So even your gods in Hellas have their price,” was the retort, with an ill-concealed sneer. “Do not trust them. Take ten talents from me and to-night sleep sweetly.”