“Then stop this cavilling about my daughter. Either she has the power to conduct the colony or else she has not. That alone is up for your decision.” Since Salamis, Nikander had been a most powerful figure in the Council, ardently loved, sincerely feared. The lovers spoke first. “You know your daughter, Nikander. Tell us what you think of her.” “I think she can do it. Whether I am willing for her to go is another matter. Oh,” Nikander added, “I was as unwilling as you are to acknowledge this power in my daughter. Like you I thought it insulted my sons who should have it in her stead. But hers is the gift of mind. I have been taught that, obstinately fighting. I have been punished until I saw.” “Punished by herself?” sneered Melas. “No, by some unrelenting god,” he answered with the love of Theria shining in his eyes. “Remember,” spoke Timon again. “She has seen Apollo. We want Delphi kept alive in the hearts of her colonists. Could we do better than send one who has beheld the god?” This argument won. It was as if Apollo himself were bestowing the leadership upon his ardent young priestess. Nikander and Timon left the Council together. Each gazed for a moment into the other’s face. “Well?” said Timon, smiling. “Well!” said Nikander, still half amazed. “You have let me in for a fine adventure.” “Aren’t you glad?” “Yes, I am glad,” responded Nikander, but Timon saw his eyes flush with tears. “You are very fond of her?” “Yes, oh, yes. She is closer to me than any other now that I have grown to know her. But,” suddenly lifting his head, “how in Zeus’s name did you guess her, Timon? You never meet her as I do.” “I did not have to guess. I saw.” “Saw? What do you mean?” “Her oracles on the tripod. She _did_ make them, Nikander. I know that. You know it! By Zeus, it was a close shave in the Council.” The sudden statement was like a thunder-clap. Nikander shook with fear. He seized Timon’s arm. “You will not accuse her! Timon! She was compelled. She was——” “No, no. Has not the god himself justified her? Who am I to offer blame? But I saw her do it! And by Zeus, it was the bravest deed, yes, and the most intelligent that I ever saw in my life.” “Oh,” breathed Nikander. “At first I could not credit that she was doing it, even though she was pronouncing the oracle as no one had ever pronounced it—driving home its meaning, by Hermes—driving it home! Then I saw the martyr light in her face—the death light, expecting the god’s lightning stroke. Did you note that agonized look just before she fell? “But she had done the deed. Done the thing that you and I, Nikander, couldn’t bring about with all our toil and effort.” Nikander was too moved to speak. “Ever since then,” went on Timon, “the girl’s genius has haunted me. Horrible, you know! Such genius to be wasted even though it be housed in a woman. There!” he ended, laughing. “You have my reasoning.”