It was with an exulting heart that, standing on the stern, he caught the last sight of that fair city. But had he a prescient foresight even now of the years which must pass over him and Athens, of all he was about to suffer, of the sins against her he was to commit, before he should next time look upon the virgin goddess and her holy temple? Perhaps it might be such prophetic vision, or perchance only the result of the pain he had suffered, the indignation he had felt, or a natural reaction after the excitement of the long day’s work—the greatest day, perhaps, but one of all his troubled life—certain it was he felt unsatisfied and almost gloomy. There seemed to be something floating between him and victory as he stood there—something coming and going between him and his future fame. He was half inclined to believe it was a guide, a monitor, a daimôn, such as Sokrates had told him of, that was warning him, but with a voice so indistinct he could scarcely understand it, telling him he was entering upon a path that would lead him far away. His sensitive and nervous nature—for with all his readiness and boldness he was sensitive and nervous—had recoiled before the charges brought against him. Perhaps this accounted for his feeling. His intelligence penetrated the designs of insidious enemies, capable of any secret crime against him, or against the state, so they might gratify their hate. He believed—and history has supported him in his belief—that the outrage upon unoffending statues of a beneficent god was the clumsy act of a band of unknown enemies, who thought, in some vague way, they might fix the crime on him; that, failing in that scheme, some of them had then, by a more artful and dangerous plan, suborned a slave, and instructed him to make a specific charge against him when he was on the eve of leaving Athens. In his secret soul he feared their machinations while he was away, with no one at home to stamp the poison out, as he could have done had he been there. His soul revolted from the injustice of it all; and as he stood out to sea, his highest hopes apparently attained, one of the commanders of the grandest expedition Athens had ever ventured on the waves, there was a melancholy, a feeling of unrest, of aspirations even now unsatisfied. And when the night fell, and the lights grew indistinct along the coast, as he turned him in to sleep he sighed. The fleet arrived prosperously at Korkyra. The land forces were more than doubled by Ionians and Korkyræans and others they found waiting for them there, all eager to take a part in the great invasion. Thirty-six triremes were added to the fleet. One hundred and thirty-six ships of all sorts rode proudly in the harbour when the three generals reviewed their troops. Everything was ready for a descent upon Sicily. The fleet was divided into three divisions, under the three commanders, and all set out for Italy.