“Yes; biggest sculptor there’s ever been, far ahead of Michelangelo or Rodin or any one. And when you had seen that, you and your friend—you and me, that is—would sit on the wall of the Acropolis looking over the town out to the mountains, the purple crown of mountains, as they called them, Hymettus where the honey came from, and Pentelicus, where they got the marble for the Parthenon, and another one—what’s its name?—oh, Parnes. Then to the south you would look over the sea, all blue and dim, out towards Salamis which, as the Head said, was the Trafalgar of Athens, where they beat those stinking Persians; and then we should lunch off grapes and figs, and cheese wrapped up in vine-leaves, and yellow wine, and go down to the theatre just below to hear perhaps this very play by Sophocles, first performance, and no end of an excitement. Then perhaps we should see Pericles, awfully handsome chap, and the biggest Prime Minister there ever was, and a queer, ugly fellow would go by, who would be Socrates. And all the boys and young men were fearfully keen about games, quite as keen as we are, because they used to date the year by the Olympic games, same as we use A.D., or B.C. . . . Lord, I’m jawing; I wish I could tell it you as the Head did.” “Oh, go on,” said David. “Well, it wasn’t only games that they were so keen about. They loved sculpture and painting and writing so much, that no one ever touched them at it, before or since. It was the consummate age, so the Head said. And then, when it came to fighting, a little potty place like Attica, no bigger than a small English county, just wiped the Persians up. In everything, so the Head told us, the Athenians of the great age were the type of the perfect physical and intellectual life. Oh, David, let’s save up and go to Athens.” “Rather! But why did the Romans walk over them?” Frank got up; the bell for chapel had begun. “Because they became corrupt and beastly.” “What an awful pity! I say, you made me feel awfully keen with that construe, and telling me what the Head said. I haven’t thought about the twenty-two for—for ten minutes. And one’s got to try to get at it all by sapping?” “Yes; that’s how you’ll get to love it.” “Sounds almost worth while,” said David. “But they liked games as well. That’s a comfort.” Frank took up his straw hat; he took up also the list that lay on the table. “Come on,” he said. “I want to put this up on the notice-board before chapel.” “Oh, don’t,” said David. “All the fellows will see it, and I shall turn crimson when we stand up for the psalms.” “Bosh; every one expects it.” David’s volatile mind went back to the Greek talk. “Pheidias, was it?” he said. “Yes: sculptor-man,” said Frank.