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"Yes," said the fourth ephor, "that was while Kunobates was alive."

"Gorgo's husband?" asked the fifth ephor. "Gorgo's," replied the fourth, "while she was a wife Clearchos never smiled except at imminent annihilation. Now she is eleven months a widow and peace declared, look at him. He is no beauty, but what a grin of satisfaction, what an air of self-confidence, what a stride. He's not for war, he's all for love. No adventures for him."

"Have we discussed Clearchos as an adviser?" queried the first ephor.

"Knows all our fighters," said the second ephor.

"Totally patriotic," said the third.

"Silent as a tombstone," said the fourth.

"Never dabbles in intrigues or politics," said the fifth. "Has nothing to do with any cabal, faction or party, favors neither of the kings."

"We seem to see a light," chirped the first ephor.

Sparta was never a handsome town. Most of its houses were one-story structures of unburnt brick, white-washed, flat-roofed and, as all openings, save one door, faced the courtyards, presenting blank walls toward the narrow streets. The main square of the town was surrounded by public buildings of limestone painted white.