other side. Towards the foot of the couch, propped upon cushions piled
on the floor, sat Gongylus, conversing in a low, earnest voice,
and fixing his eyes steadfastly on the Spartan. The habits of the
Eretrian's life, which had brought him in constant contact with
the Persians, had infected his very language with the luxuriant
extravagance of the East. And the thoughts he uttered made his
language but too musical to the ears of the listening Spartan.

"And fair as these climes may seem to you, and rich as are the gardens
and granaries of Byzantium, yet to me who have stood on the terraces
of Babylon and looked upon groves covering with blossom and fruit the
very fortresses and walls of that queen of nations,--to me, who have
roved amidst the vast delights of Susa, through palaces whose very
porticoes might enclose the limits of a Grecian city,--who have stood,
awed and dazzled, in the courts of that wonder of the world, that
crown of the East, the marble magnificence of Persepolis--to me,
Pausanias, who have been thus admitted into the very heart of Persian
glories, this city of Byzantium appears but a village of artisans and
fishermen. The very foliage of its forests, pale and sickly, the very
moonlight upon these waters, cold and smileless, ah, if thou couldst
but see! But pardon me, I weary thee?"

"Not so," said the Spartan, who, raised upon his elbow, listened to
the words of Gongylus with deep attention. "Proceed." "Ah, if thou
couldst but see the fair regions which the great king has apportioned
to thy countryman Demaratus. And if a domain, that would satiate
the ambition of the most craving of your earlier tyrants, fall to
Demaratus, what would be the splendid satrapy in which the conqueror
of Plataea might plant his throne?"