“Then Protagoras was not made by Zeus, for he lacks both.” This thrust came from Alcibiades. But now the taciturn tragedian Euripides began to speak: “Allow me to say something both about Zeus and about Prometheus; and don’t think me discourteous if I cite my great teacher Aeschylus when I speak about the gods.” But Pericles broke in: “Unless my eyes deceive me, I saw just now a pair of ears projecting from behind the pillar of Hermes, and these ass’s ears can only belong to the notorious tanner.” “Cleon!” exclaimed Alcibiades. But Euripides continued: “What do I care about the tanner, since I do not fear the gods of the State? These gods, whose decline Aeschylus foretold long ago! Does not his _Prometheus_ say that the Olympian Zeus will be overthrown by his own descendant--the son that will be born of a virgin? Is it not so, Socrates?” “Certainly: ‘she will bear a son who is stronger than his father.’ But who it will be, and when he will be born, he does not say. Now I believe that Zeus already lies _in extremis_.” Again the warning voice of Pericles was heard. “The gods of the State! Hush, friends! Cleon is listening!” “I, on the other hand,” broke in Alcibiades, “believe that Athens is near her end. While we have been celebrating the victory of Salamis, the Spartans have risen and devastated the north. Megaris, Locris, Boeotia, and Phocis are already on her side.” “What you say is well known,” answered Pericles deprecatingly, “but at present there is a truce, and we have three hundred ships at sea. Do you think, Socrates, that there is danger?” “I cannot mix in the affairs of State; but if Athens is in danger, I will take up shield and lance as before.” “When you saved my life at Potidaea,” added Alcibiades. “No, the danger is not there,” interrupted Euripides--“not in Sparta, but here at home. The demagogues have stirred up the marsh, and therefore we have the pestilence in the Agora, and the pestilence in the Piraeus.” “That in Piraeus is the worse of the two,” said Protagoras; “don’t you think so, Alcibiades?” “Yes, for there are my best girls. My flute-players, who are to perform at supper this evening, live by the harbour. But, by Hercules, no one here fears death, I suppose?” “No one fears, and no one wishes it,” answered Socrates; “but if you have other girls, that would increase our pleasure.” “Euripides does not like girls,” interrupted Protagoras. “That is not true,” answered Euripides; “I like girls, but not women.” Pericles rose: “Let us go to supper, and have walls round our conversation--walls without ears! Support me, Phidias, I am tired.” Plato approached Socrates: “Master, let me carry your mantle?” he asked. “That is my function, boy,” said Alcibiades, intercepting him. “It was once,” objected Socrates; “now it belongs to Plato of the broad head. Notice his name! He descends from Codrus, the last king, who gave his life to save his people. Plato is of royal birth.”