The philosophers and the learned men of Thurii, notwithstanding all the heat they were wont to show in nightly arguments with one another, and in discussing the latest works of every sophist writer, were quiet and subdued before the renowned Athenian. Then did he look more radiant and beautiful than ever. Seldom did he show such condescension or concern himself more courteously to instruct and gratify his company. He spoke of many things—of patriotism, of the love of country. When was man obliged to die for his home? How far, if ever, was he bound to save his fatherland, if he must appear an enemy while doing it? Or was it not nobler to die to save her than to live to teach her, and dying, leave a fame behind which some day all would recognise, so that his name would never die, and he would become indeed ‘Athanatos’? The companions of his voyage rose from their couches one by one, and stole out unnoticed by the grave philosophers, overcome by the eloquence they had listened to and the good wine they had drunk. At length Alkibiades bade them good-night, and his host got rid of them. Eumanthes, after a few more words with his guest, went down to the wharf to watch the movements of the _Salaminia_. He found the captain still superintending the provisioning of the state ship, and invited him to come and stay a day or two with him. Kryptos declined, as he sailed for Athens the next morning. When Eumanthes returned he found that his guest, who in the meantime had changed his dress for one more suitable to the work before him, was gone. He had reason to suppose his Athenian friends were by this time beyond the shrine of Dionysos. There Alkibiades and his companions had found Diôtes, a faithful servant of Eumanthes, with arms and horses and some provisions, awaiting them. They mounted, and, led by Diôtes, went along a narrow pathway in single file up the mountain by the side of the stream whence the cray-fish had come which formed the chief part of the wondrous salad. It was a dark night, and not without some danger did they make their way to higher ground. Biôtides was better at sea than on horseback. In his anxiety to show his skill as a horseman, his steed, unaccustomed to such a rider, got rid of him. He was picked up near a precipice not much the worse, but it was thought wiser to make him exchange horses with Agrestides, who was riding a milder animal. They went along merrily enough, considering their new circumstances. Only Alkibiades was silent and thoughtful. Before daybreak they reached a small villa, nearly thirty miles from Thurii, belonging to Eumanthes. Here they rested.