Alkibiades got all that he demanded, and more than he expected, from the Viceroy. Though he knew that, when he was gone, the Persian would be prevailed upon, and perhaps would be obliged, to break his promises, yet promises were made, and they would last some little time. And so it was that the Persian fleet remained for the present at Aspendos, nor came to help the foes of Athens, and the poor satrap got worse into disgrace with his allies, and was openly accused by them of treason. The Spartan admiral, Astyochos, who all along had been faithful to his friend, got into trouble, too, with the commissioners for his remissness in executing the barbarous order of the king and ephors, and was recalled, while Mindaros, a rising sailor, was put into his place. These were some of the results of the stately visit of Alkibiades to the viceregal court of Tissaphernes. On his way back a terrible temptation came over him, such as has seldom fallen upon any man. We have seen how, when Chaireas brought tidings of the doings of the four hundred oligarchs to Samos, the Athenian warriors were roused to such a pitch of fury that they were almost beside themselves with rage. The first act they called on Alkibiades to do for them, when they chose him general, was to take them straightway to Athens, to avenge the wrong that had been done to their country and restore her liberties. It was only his influence, backed by the loud voice of Thrasyboulos, that had restrained the soldiers and kept them for the defence of Samos. He was stronger now. He had good reason to believe, if he appeared with that large fleet and all his soldiers at the port of Athens, nothing could resist him. Why, then, not take them there on his return to Samos? His power at Samos was secure, his popularity unbounded; his influence with Tissaphernes greater, at any rate, than that of any other. The condition of Athens was most critical. A strong man, backed as he would be, would soon restore her native energy and scare away the swarm of bats whose unclean wings now flapped about the sacred city. Was not this the very moment to make the stroke he had been so long meditating, and give the _coup de grace_ to the cowardly, the treacherous four hundred? Once there, his course was clear. Leader of the people, as Perikles had been—greater indeed than Perikles, for he would come not as a leader only, but as a saviour—might he not expect to rise to greater fame and more enduring honour than even Perikles had gained? This was the temptation, and it came upon him like the nightmare which had weighed him down during the ride he had by night in this same country more than a year before. As he shook it off and resisted it with effort, it came again, and yet again. It was, in truth, a specious and splendid-looking prospect that was now displayed before him.