The group is admirably arranged on the stage, and the effect is
very fine as Theae, a young slave, holds back the drapery from the group
while the moon illumines it with a soft light. At this moment an
approaching tumult is heard. Theae drops the curtain, and Gorgias with
his friends, heated with Cyprus wine, enters, accompanied by the
'myrmidons of the law.' He again demands the statues, for which Phidias
has already received his gold. Phidias expostulates, then entreats,--no,
Gorgias will have his statues. At this, Theae, who had long loved
Phidias, unknown to him, hardly noticed, never requited, throws herself
at Gorgias's feet and cries, 'Take me, sell me; I am young and strong,
but leave Phidias his statues.' Gorgias says, 'Who are you? Poor
creature, you are not worth over fifty drachmas! Away! Guards, do your
duty! Slaves, seize the statues.' Then Diogenes, hitherto half asleep on
a mat in the corner, cries, 'Stop, Gorgias! You always profess justice,
strict justice. Why don't you ask with whom of you the statues will
prefer to stay?' A shout of laughter from his jolly companions makes
Gorgias accede to this droll proposal. 'So be it!' cries he; and
Diogenes draws aside the curtain, and holds up his lantern, which, with
a strong French reflector, throws a powerful light on the upper part of
the group, with a fine and startling effect.
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