“You anger me, really, Socrates.”

“But perhaps you snatched your inheritance from your father and threw him into prison?”

“Never!  Why these insulting questions?”

“Wait, my friend.  Perhaps we will both reach a conclusion.  Tell me, would you have considered a man great who had done all these things of which I have spoken?”

“No, no, no!  I should have called such a man a scoundrel, and lodged public complaint against him with the judges in the market-place.”

“Well, Elpidias, why did you not complain in the market-place against Zeus and the Olympians?  The son of Cronos carried on war with his own father, and was seized with brutal lust for the daughters of men, while Hera took vengeance upon innocent virgins.  Did not both of them convert the unhappy daughter of Inachos into a common cow?  Did not Apollo kill all the children of Niobe with his arrows?  Did not Callenius steal bulls?  Well, then, Elpidias, if it is true that he who has less virtue must do honour to him who has more, then you should not build altars to the Olympians, but they to you.”

“Blaspheme not, impious Socrates!  Keep quiet!  How dare you judge the acts of the gods?”

“Friend, a higher power has judged them.  Let us investigate the question.  What is the mark of divinity?  I think you said, Greatness, which consists in virtue.  Now is not this greatness the one divine spark in man?  But if we test the greatness of the gods by our small human virtues, and it turns out that that which measures is greater than that which is measured, then it follows that the divine principle itself condemns the Olympians.  But, then—­”

“What, then?”

“Then, friend Elpidias, they; are no gods, but deceptive phantoms, creations of a dream.  Is it not so?”

“Ah, that’s whither your talk leads, you bare-footed philosopher!  Now I see what they said of you is true.  You are like that fish that takes men captive with its look.  So you took me captive in order to confound my believing soul and awaken doubt in it.  It was already beginning to waver in its reverence for Zeus.  Speak alone.  I won’t answer any more.”

“Be not wrathful, Elpidias!  I don’t wish to inflict any evil upon you.  But if you are tired of following my arguments to their logical conclusions, permit me to relate to you an allegory of a Milesian youth.  Allegories rest the mind, and the relaxation is not unprofitable.”

“Speak, if your story is not too long and its purpose is good.”

“Its purpose is truth, friend Elpidias, and I will be brief.  Once, you know, in ancient times, Miletus was exposed to the attacks of the barbarians.  Among the youth who were seized was a son of the wisest and best of all the citizens in the land.  His precious child was overtaken by a severe illness and became unconscious.  He was abandoned and allowed to lie like worthless booty.  In the dead of night he came to his senses.  High above him glimmered the stars.  Round about stretched the desert; and in the distance he heard the howl of beasts of prey.  He was alone.