Alcibiades greeted him. “It is Nicias,” he said. “Now I will be sober; the thoughtful Nicias comes to our feast. What is the matter?” “Allow an uninvited guest.” “Speak, Nicias!” “Pericles!” began the new-comer hesitatingly, “your friend, our friend, the glory of Athens and Hellas,--Phidias is accused....” “Stop! Silence!” “Accused! O shame and disgrace! I cannot say it without weeping: Phidias is accused of having purloined gold from the statue of Athene.” The silence which followed was first broken by Pericles: “Phidias hides his face in his mantle; he is ashamed for Athens. But by the gods and the nether world, let us swear to his innocence.” “We swear!” exclaimed all like one man. “I swear also,” said Nicias. “Athens is dishonoured, if one has to swear that Phidias has not stolen.” Nicias had approached Pericles, and, bowing to Aspasia, he whispered, “Pericles, your son Paralos is ill.” “Of the pestilence! Follow me, Aspasia.” “He is not my son, but yours; therefore I follow you.” “The house collapses, friends depart, all beauty passes away, the ugly remains.” “And the gods sleep.” “Or have emigrated.” “Or are dead! Let us make new ones.” Another shock of earthquake extinguished the lamps, and all went out into the street, except Socrates and Alcibiades. “Phidias accused of theft! Let the walls of the world fall in!” said Socrates, and sank, as was his custom, into a fit of absent-mindedness that resembled sleep. Alcibiades took one of the largest double-goblets, veiled it, and improvised the following dithyramb: “May everything break up from Pindus to the Caucasus! Then will Prometheus be unbound and bestow fire again on frozen mortals! And Zeus descends to Hades, Pallas sells herself; Apollo breaks his lyre in two, and cobbles shoes; Ares lets his war-horse go, and minds sheep; And on the ruins of all earthly glory, stands Alcibiades alone, In the full consciousness of his almightiness, And laughs!” * * * * * The pestilence had broken out in Athens accompanied by shocks of earthquake. When Pericles, accompanied by Aspasia, reached his house, his son by his divorced wife was dead. According to the prevailing custom, and to show that he had not been murdered, the corpse was placed in the doorway. A small coffin of cedar-wood, painted red and black, stood on a bier, and showed the dead child dressed in a white shroud. He had a garland on his head, woven of the plant of death, the strong-scented Apium or celery. In his mouth he had an obol as Charon’s fee. Pericles uttered a prayer in an undertone, without showing especially deep sorrow, for he had gone through much, and learnt to suffer. “Two sons the gods have taken from me. Are they enough to atone?” “What have you to atone for?” asked Aspasia. “One must suffer for another; the individual for the State. Pericles has suffered for Athens.”