“So drives self-love through just, and through unjust,

To one man’s power, ambition, lucre, lust.”

Pope.

It was eventide in the Agora. Booths were being closed for the night while merchants and customers were preparing to seek the comfort of their homes. Gradually the streets became quite deserted except for a few dogs whose opportunity to feast came at the close of day when some of the refuse from the meat and vegetable markets lay about the stalls.

Cimon on his way to dine at the home of Pasicles nearly collided with a figure as he turned the corner directly in front of the shop of Aphobus, a dealer in jewelry and vases. After the first moment of surprise at meeting anyone at this hour he recognized Ephialtes. With a friendly nod and word of greeting he would have passed on his way, but Ephialtes called him by name and indicated that he wished to speak with him.

“My dear friend Cimon,” he began, “excuse me if I seem to intrude where your affairs are concerned, but after having been myself a witness to the evidence of your great passion for the girl Ladice, I can not but desire to assist you and I believe I can be of some use to you in attaining your heart’s desire if you will but listen to me.”
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Cimon detected the reek of wine upon the breath of Ephialtes and fought against a desire to give some plausible excuse and hasten on his way, but the words of the latter undeniably aroused his curiosity.

“Are you aware,” continued Ephialtes, glancing about to make certain they were not heard, “that Ladice is now a ward of the great Themistocles.” Ephialtes laid special emphasis upon the word “great” and looked keenly to note the affect of his words upon his listener.

Cimon made an impatient gesture. “Do you think to make me jealous of a man twice my age who has a family of ten children, and has probably taken Ladice under his protection because he was a personal friend of her brave father who was killed at Salamis?”

“Indeed you misjudge me, my friend,” replied Ephialtes assuming an aggrieved air. “I had not thought of him in the role of lover. But while she is under the protection of Themistocles her mind must constantly be impressed by his opinions, and you know, yourself, that the statesman does not love you nor did he your father before you. And why, pray tell me, does Themistocles hate you? Ah, you hesitate because of personal modesty, but I will tell you why. It is because you are likely to become his bitter rival. He sees in you not only qualities which he himself possesses as a leader, but likewise some that you have inherited from your brave father. He fears to lose public favor, and you, would you hesitate to take for yourself that which he might lose?”

Ephialtes could see that his words had touched a vulnerable spot.
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“It is true,” replied Cimon, “that Themistocles would never consent to my suit, but you forget that Ladice does not return my affection.”

“With Themistocles out of the way your chances with his ward are far greater,” persisted the other. “Now I have a friend by the name of Leobotes who for personal reasons, dislikes the statesman so much that he would gladly cause his downfall. Leobotes is endeavoring to stir up public opinion against Themistocles and thus bring about the latter’s banishment. With Themistocles out of Greece forever what is to prevent you from stepping up into his place? And once there you can see realized your ambitions of uniting Sparta and the islands with us in an alliance, and at the head of hosts of faithful followers you can put down the revolts of our colonies. Do you think that with you as tyrant of Athens, Ladice would continue to treat you with disdain? My dear fellow,” laughed Ephialtes clapping him upon the shoulder, “she would gladly forget the disgrace in which your father died and would be proud to be the chosen bride of the idol of Athens!”

Cimon’s vanity could no longer resist the subtle power of Ephialtes’ flattery. In his mind’s eye he pictured himself the envy of all men. He would first win the favor of the populace by his magnanimity, then he would rebuild the temples of Athens that had been destroyed; the Acropolis must have a splendid shrine to her goddess, and as Ephialtes had said, the city must be on friendly terms with Sparta. As he realized that all this which he visioned was possible of achievement he could scarcely hold himself in restraint. Though it was already past the dinner hour at the home of the poet, Cimon continued talking and planning with Ephialtes, all else forgotten.
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“Come with me now and I will introduce you to Leobotes,” suggested Ephialtes, and he was amazed at the readiness with which the other complied.

They threaded their way through the winding streets which without walks were lined on either side by the rough masonry of the houses. Since it was past the hour of the evening meal they met parties of youths singing and laughing and exchanging coarse jests, all of which was a painful reminder to Cimon of a period of his youth, not so long ago, that he would just as soon forget.

Cimon did not trust Ephialtes, but the well contrived scheme which the latter laid before him was irresistible. As they brushed by open doorways, obtaining brief glimpses of life within or heard occasional snatches of conversation, an ecstatic mood possessed Cimon. Might not he some day possess the power to change the lives of these people and to put his name upon their lips, his name spoken in praise and reverence!

As they approached one entrance, a pretty child, a girl of about ten years, sat upon the doorstep holding in her arms a very young infant. Cimon paused, for he was always irresistibly drawn toward children, and drew aside the shawl which covered the baby’s face.
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“Oho,” he laughed bending over the tiny figure, “behold, Ephialtes, a future citizen of Athens, and who knows,” he added meditatively, “the possibilities that lie in that small bundle of life. What is his name, child?” pinching the girl’s cheek. “A good name means a good start in life.”

The girl’s brown eyes flashed proudly. “We have given him............