"Son of Lysimachus, say on."

"Your pardon, Pausanias," returned the Athenian, lowering his voice,
and with a smile--"This is too crowded a council-hall; may we attend
you on board your galley?"

"Not so," answered the Spartan haughtily; "the morning to affairs, the
evening to recreation. We shall sail in the bay to see the moon rise,
and if we indulge in consultations, it will be over our winecups. It
is a good custom."

"It is a Persian one," said Cimon bluntly.

"It is permitted to us," returned the Spartan coldly, "to borrow from
those we conquer. But enough of this. I have no secrets with the
Athenians. No matter if the whole city hear what you would address to
Pausanias."

"It is to complain," said Aristides with calm emphasis, but still in
an undertone.

"Ay, I doubt it not: the Athenians are eloquent in grumbling."

"It was not found so at Plataea," returned Cimon.

"Son of Miltiades," said Pausanias loftily, "your wit outruns your
experience. But my time is short. To the matter!"

"If you will have it so, I will speak," said Aristides, raising his
voice. "Before your own Spartans, our comrades in arms, I proclaim our