Now, Pausanias, your answer!"

"You have prepared a notable scene for the commander of your forces,
son of Lysimachus," said the Spartan, addressing himself to Aristides.
"Far be it from me to affect the Agamemnon, but your friends are less
modest in imitating the venerable model of Thersites. Enough" (and
changing the tone of his voice, the chief stamped his foot vehemently
to the ground): "we owe no account to our inferiors; we render no
explanation save to Sparta and her Ephors."

"So be it, then," said Aristides, gravely; "we have our answer, and
you will hear of our appeal."

Pausanias changed colour. "How?" said he, with a slight hesitation in
his tone. "Mean you to threaten me--Me--with carrying the busy tales
of your disaffection to the Spartan government?"

"Time will show. Farewell, Pausanias. We will detain you no longer
from your pastime."

"But," began Uliades.

"Hush," said the Athenian, laying his hand on the Samian's shoulder.
"We will confer anon."

Pausanias paused a moment, irresolute and in thought. His eyes glanced
towards his own countrymen, who, true to their rigid discipline,
neither spake nor moved, but whose countenances were sullen and
overcast, and at that moment his pride was shaken, and his heart
misgave him. Gongylus watched his countenance, and once more laying