“I jested with the pair. There will be a triumphal procession, then, for Cleon! How fine!” “Socrates,” continued Anytos, “are you not glad?” “I am glad that the enemy is beaten.” “But not that Cleon has won a victory?” “Yes, it is nearly the same thing.” Xantippe seized the opportunity and struck in: “He is not glad, and he does not believe in Cleon.” “I know you,” concluded Anytos. “I know you philosophers and quibblers! But take care!--And now, Alcibiades, come and receive the despised Cleon, who has saved the fatherland!” Alcibiades took Socrates by the hand, and whispered in his ear. “What a cursed mischance! Well, not yet!--but the next time!” ALCIBIADES Kartaphalos, the shoemaker, sat in his shop by the Acarnanian Gate, and repaired cothurns for the Dionysian theatre, which was about to make a last attempt to revive the tragic drama, which had been eclipsed by the farces of Aristophanes. The Roman Lucillus lounged at the window-sill, and, since philosophy had been brought into fashion by Socrates and the Sophists, the shoemaker and the exiled Decemvir philosophised as well as they could. “Roman!” said Kartaphalos, “you are a stranger in the city, as I am: what do think of the state and the Government?” “They are exactly like the Roman. One may sum up the whole past history of Rome in two words--Patricians and Plebeians.” “Just as it is here.” “With the difference that Rome has a future. Hellas only a past.” “What is known of Rome’s future?” “The Cumaean Sibyl has prophesied that Rome will possess the earth.” “What do you say? Rome? No, Israel will possess it; Israel has the promise.” “I do not venture to deny that, but Rome has also the promise.” “There is only one promise, and one God.” “Perhaps it is the same promise, and the same God.” “Perhaps Israel will conquer through Rome.” “Israel will conquer through the promised Messiah.” “When will Messiah come, then?” “When the time is fulfilled, when Zeus is dead.” “May we live to see it. I wait, for Zeus has gone to Rome, and is called there Jupiter Capitolinus.” Aristophanes, who was easily recognised by his crane-like neck and open mouth, looked in through the window. “Have you a pair of low shoes, Kartaphalos? A pair of ‘socks’? [Footnote: a low-heeled shoe worn by comic actors.] You have plenty of cothurns, I see, but the ‘sock’ has won the day.” “At your service, sir.” “We want them for the theatre, you understand.... Ah! there is Lucillus! ... and of raw leather, not tanned.” “What are you going to play in the theatre, then?” “We are going to bring on Cleon, and make him dance, and fancy! since no one dares to represent the low-born tanner, I must do it. I will play Cleon.” “Where is the great general, Cleon, now?”