“No, quite the opposite,” replied Aelios, with an indulgent smile. “I see you don’t understand at all. Agripides was not a lunatic; he was the greatest man that ever lived.” “I thought he must be either a madman or a genius,” I returned, dryly. “Look, I’ll show you!” she flung out, almost as a challenge, since I did not seem convinced of her hero’s greatness. And rising hurriedly and flitting a dozen paces down the colonnade, she pointed to a life-sized marble bust on a panel between the columns. “See! That is Agripides! Does that look like the face of a lunatic?” Hastily I had followed Aelios, with Stranahan at my heels; and he joined me in surveying the bust with a show of interest, though his puzzled expression showed that he did not know and much less cared who Agripides may have been. “The glorious saints have mercy on us, if he hasn’t a beard like a goat!” was his one and only comment. But I did not deign to reply, and fixed my eyes sternly and appraisingly upon the countenance of Agripides. The hair and beard were perhaps a little long, I thought, unconsciously agreeing with Stranahan; but the features were the most striking I had ever seen in any human being. Like many of the faces which have come down to us from classical times, this countenance combined intellect and beauty to a singular degree. The brow was broad, as in the representations of Homer, but it also rose to a majestic dominance; the eyes were large and alert, the lips thin and compressed, the cheeks long and firmly modelled, while the features were furrowed with deep lines of sympathy that reminded me of Lincoln, and at the same time were marked with a wistful, dreamy expression that contrasted strangely with a savage, almost tigerish determination more implied than clearly graven on the even contours of the face. “Agripides was a remarkable orator, and at the same time a writer of force,” stated Aelios, as we returned to our seats. “Hundreds of his essays and addresses have been preserved, and they show such brilliance, vehemence, and wit, and at the same time such clarity and logic of presentation, that it is little wonder that he converted all Atlantis to his way of thinking. Or perhaps it would not be fair to say that he converted all Atlantis--there was plenty of wordy opposition to his schemes, as well as several little armed revolts and insurrections that had to be suppressed. But Agripides was not a man to be easily daunted, and in spite of the strenuous objections of the ‘Respectables,’ the year 49 saw the publication of his complete plans for the Submergence.