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Six weeks after these events a little troop of horsemen might have been seen riding towards the gates of Sardis. The horses and their riders were covered with sweat and dust. The former knew that they were drawing near a town, where there would be stables and mangers, and exerted all their remaining powers; but yet their pace did not seem nearly fast enough to satisfy the impatience of two men, dressed in Persian costume, who rode at the head of the troop.

The well-kept royal road ran through fields of good black, arable land, planted with trees of many different kinds. It crossed the outlying spurs of the Tmolus range of mountains. At their foot stretched rows of olive, citron and plane-trees, plantations of mulberries and vines; at a higher level grew firs, cypresses and nut-tree copses. Fig-trees and date-palms, covered with fruit, stood sprinkled over the fields; and the woods and meadows were carpeted with brightly-colored and sweetly-scented flowers. The road led over ravines and brooks, now half dried up by the heat of summer, and here and there the traveller came upon a well at the side of the road, carefully enclosed, with seats for the weary, and sheltering shrubs. Oleanders bloomed in the more damp and shady places; slender palms waved wherever the sun was hottest. Over this rich landscape hung a deep blue, perfectly cloudless sky, bounded on its southern horizon by the snowy peaks of the Tmolus mountains, and on the west by the Sipylus range of hills, which gave a bluish shimmer in the distance.

The road went down into the valley, passing through a little wood of birches, the stems of which, up to the very tree-top, were twined with vines covered with bunches of grapes.

The horsemen stopped at a bend in the road, for there, before them, in the celebrated valley of the Hermus, lay the golden Sardis, formerly the capital of the Lydian kingdom and residence of its king, Croesus.

Above the reed-thatched roofs of its numerous houses rose a black, steep rock; the white marble buildings on its summit could be seen from a great distance. These buildings formed the citadel, round the threefold walls of which, many centuries before, King Meles had carried a lion in order to render them impregnable. On its southern side the citadel-rock was not so steep, and houses had been built upon it. Croesus’ former palace lay to the north, on the golden-sanded Pactolus. This reddish-colored river flowed above the market-place, (which, to our admiring travellers, looked like a barren spot in the midst of a blooming meadow), ran on in a westerly direction, and then entered a narrow mountain valley, where it washed the walls of the temple of Cybele.

Large gardens stretched away towards the east, and in the midst of them lay the lake Gygaeus, covered with gay boats and snowy swans, and sparkling like a mirror.

A short distance from the lake were a great number of artificial mounds, three of which were especially noticeable from their size and height.

[See also Hamilton’s Asia Minor, I. P. 145. Herodotus (I. 93.)

calls the tombs of the Lydian kings the largest works of human

hands, next to the Egyptian and Babylonian. These cone-shaped hills

can be seen to this day, standing near the ruins of Sardis, not far

from the lake of Gygaea. Hamilton (Asia Minor, I. p. i) counted

some sixty of them, and could not ride round the hill of Alayattes

in less than ten minutes. Prokesch saw 100 such tumuli. The

largest, tomb of Alyattes, still measures 3400 feet in

circumference, and the length of its slope is 650 feet. According

to Prokesch, gigantic Phallus columns lie on some of these graves.]

“What can those strange-looking earth-heaps mean?” said Darius, the leader of the troop, to Prexaspes, Cambyses’ envoy, who rode at his side.

“They are the graves of former Lydian kings,” was the answer. “The middle one is in memory of the princely pair Panthea and Abradatas, and the largest, that one to the left, was erected to the father of Croesus, Alyattes. It was raised by the tradesmen, mechanics, and girls, to their late king, and on the five columns, which stand on its summit, you can read how much each of these classes contributed to the work. The girls were the most industrious. Gyges’ grandfather is said to have been their especial friend.”

“Then the grandson must have degenerated very much from the old stock.”

“Yes, and that seems the more remarkable, because Croesus himself in his youth was by no means averse to women, and the Lydians generally are devoted to such pleasures. You see the white walls of that temple yonder in the midst of its sacred grove. That is the temple of the goddess of Sardis, Cybele or Ma, as they call her. In that grove there is many a sheltered spot where the young people of Sardis meet, as they say, in honor of their goddess.”

“Just as in Babylon, at the festival of Mylitta.”

“There is the same custom too on the coast of Cyprus. When I landed there on the way back from Egypt, I was met by a troop of lovely girls, who, with songs, dances, and the clang of cymbals, conducted me to the sacred grove of their goddess.”

“Well, Zopyrus will not grumble at Bartja’s illness.”

“He will spend more of his time in the grove of Cybele, than at his patient’s bedside. How glad I shall be to see that jolly fellow again!”

“Yes, he’ll keep you from falling into those melancholy fits that you have been so subject to lately.” “You are quite right to blame me for those fits, and I must not yield to them, but they are not without ground. Croesus says we only get low-spirited, when we are either too lazy or too weak to struggle against annoyances, and I believe he is right. But no one shall dare to accuse Darius of weakness or idleness. If I can’t rule the world, at least I will be my own master.” And as he said these words, the handsome youth drew himself up, and sat erect in his saddle. His companion gazed in wonder at him.

“Really, you son of Hystaspes,” he said, “I believe you must be meant for something great. It was not by chance that, when you were still a mere child, the gods sent their favorite Cyrus that dream which induced him to order you into safe keeping.”

“And yet my wings have never appeared.”

“No bodily ones, certainly; but mental ones, likely enough. Young man, young man, you’re on a dangerous road.”

“Have winged creatures any need to be afraid of precipices?”

“Certainly; when their strength fails them.”

“But I am strong.”

“Stronger creatures than you will try to break your pinions.”

“Let them. I want nothing but what is right, and shall trust to my star.”

“Do you know its name?”

“It ruled in the hour of my birth, and its name is Anahita.”

“I think I know better. A burning ambition is the sun, whose rays guide all your actions. Take care; I tried that way myself once; it leads to fame or to disgrace, but very seldom to happiness. Fame to the ambitious is like salt water to the thirsty; the more he gets, the more he wants. I was once only a poor soldier, and am now Cambyses’ ambassador. But you, what can you have to strive for? There is no man in the kingdom greater than yourself, after the sons of Cyrus... Do my eyes deceive me? Surely those two men riding to meet us with a troop of horsemen must be Gyges and Zopyrus. The Angare, who left the inn before us, must have told them of our coming.”

“To be sure. Look at that fellow Zopyrus, how he’s waving and beckoning with that palm-leaf.”

“Here, you fellows, cut us a few twigs from those bushes-quick. We’ll answer his green palm-leaf with a purple pomegranate-branch.”

In a few minutes the friends had embraced one another, and the two bands were riding together into the populous town, through the gardens surrounding the lake Gygaeus, the Sardians’ place of recreation. It was now near sunset, a cooler breeze was beginning to blow, and the citizens were pouring through the gates to enjoy themselves in the open air. Lydian and Persian warriors, the former wearing richly-ornamented helmets, the latter tiaras in the form of a cylinder, were following girls who were painted and wreathed. Children were being led to the lake by their nurses, to see the swans fed. An old blind man was seated under a plane-tree, singing sad ditties to a listening crowd and accompanying them on the Magadis, the twenty-stringed Lydian lute. Youths were enjoying themselves at games of ball, ninepins, and dice, and half-grown girls screaming with fright, when the ball hit one of their group or nearly fell into the water.

The travellers scarcely noticed this gay scene, though at another time it would have delighted them. They were too much interested in enquiring particulars of Bartja’s illness and recovery.

At the brazen gates of the palace which had formerly belonged to Croesus, they were met by Oroetes, the satrap of Sardis, in a magnificent court-dress overloaded with ornaments. He was a stately man, whose small penetrating black eyes looked sharply out from beneath a bushy mass of eyebrow. His satrapy was one of the most important and profitable in the entire kingdom, and his household could bear a comparison with that of Cambyses in richness and splendor. Though he possessed fewer wives and attendants than the king, it was no inconsiderable troop of guards, slaves, eunuchs and gorgeously-dressed officials, which appeared at the palace-gates to receive the travellers.

The vice-regal palace, which was still kept up with great magnificence, had been, in the days when Croesus occupied it, the most splendid of royal residences; after the taking of Sardis, however, the greater part of the dethroned king’s treasures and works of art had been sent to Cyrus’s treasure-house in Pasargadae. When that time of terror had passed, the Lydians brought many a hidden treasure into the light of day once more, and, by their industry and skill in art during the peaceful years which they enjoyed under Cyrus and Cambyses, recovered their old position so far, that Sardis was again looked upon as one of the wealthiest cities of Asia Minor, and therefore, of the world.

Accustomed as Darius and Prexaspes were to royal splendor, they were still astonished at the beauty and brilliancy of the satrap’s palace. The marble work, especially, made a great impression on them, as nothing of the kind was to be found in Babylon, Susa or Ecbatana, where burnt brick and cedar-wood supply the place of the polished marble.

[The palace of Persepolis did not exist at the date of our story.

It was built partly of black stone from Mount Rachmed, and partly of

white marble; it was probably begun by Darius. The palace of Susa

was built of brick, (Strabo p. 728) that of Ecbatana of wood

overlaid with plates of gold of immense value, and roofed with tiles

made of the precious metals.]

They found Bartja lying on a couch in the great hall; he looked very pale, and stretched out his arms towards them.

The friends supped together at the satrap’s table and then retired to Bartja’s private room, in order to enjoy an undisturbed conversation.

“Well, Bartja, how did you come by this dangerous illness?” was Darius’ first question after they were seated.

“I was thoroughly well, as you know,” said Bartja, “when we left Babylon, and we reached Germa, a little town on the Sangarius, without the slightest hindrance. The ride was long and we were very tired, burnt too by the scorching May sun, and covered with dust; the river flows by the station, and its waves looked so clear and bright—so inviting for a bathe—that in a minute Zopyrus and I were off our horses, undressed, and in the water. Gyges told us we were very imprudent, but we felt confident that we were too much inured to such things to get any harm, and very much enjoyed our swim in the cool, green water. Gyges, perfectly calm as usual, let us have our own way, waited till our bath was over, and then plunged in himself.

“In two hours we were in our saddles again, pushing on as if for our very lives, changing horses at every station, and turning night into day.

“We were near Ipsus, when I began to feel violent pains in the head and limbs. I was ashamed to say anything about it and kept upright on my saddle, until we had to take fresh horses at Bagis. Just as I was in the very act of mounting, I lost my senses and strength, and fell down on the ground in a dead faint.”

“Yes, a pretty fright you gave us,” interrupted Zopyrus, “by dropping down in that fashion. It was fortunate that Gyges was there, for I lost my wits entirely; he, of course, kept his presence of mind, and after relieving his feelings in words not exactly flattering to us two, he behaved like a circumspect general.—A fool of a doctor came running up and protested that it was all over with poor Bart, for which I gave him a good thrashing.”

“Which he didn’t particularly object to,” said the satrap, laughing, “seeing that you told them to lay a gold stater on every stripe.”

“Yes, yes, my pugnacity costs me very dear sometimes. But to our story. As soon as Bartja had opened his eyes, Gyges sent me off to Sardis to fetch a good physician and an easy travelling-carriage. That ride won’t so soon be imitated. An hour before I reached the gates my third horse knocked up under me, so I had to trust to my own legs, and began running as fast as I could. The people must all have thought me mad. At last I saw a man on horseback—a merchant from Kelaenze—dragged him from his horse, jumped into the saddle, and, before the next morning dawned, I was back again with our invalid, bringing the best physician in Sardis, and Oroetes’ most commodious travelling-carriage. We brought him to this house at a slow footpace, and here a violent fever came on, he became delirious, talked all the nonsense that could possibly come into a human brain, and made us so awfully anxious, that the mere remembrance of that time brings the big drops of perspiration to my forehead.”

Bartja took his friend’s hand: “I owe my life to him and Gyges,” said he, turning to Darius. “Till to-day, when they set out to meet you, they have never left me for a minute; a mother could not have nursed her sick child more carefully. And Oroetes, I am much obliged to you too; doubly so because your kindness subjected you to annoyance.”

“How could that be?” asked Darius.

“That Polykrates of Samos, whose name we heard so often in Egypt, has the best physician that Greece has ever produced. While I was lying here ill, Oroetes wrote to this Democedes, making him immense promises, if he would only come to Sardis directly. The Sainian pirates, who infest the whole Ionian coast, took the messenger captive and brought Oroetes’ letter to their master Polykrates. He opened it, and sent the messenger back with the answer, that Democedes was in his pay, and that if Oroetes needed his advice he must apply to Polykrates himself. Our generous friend submitted for my sake, and asked the Samian to send his physician to Sardis.”

“Well,” said Prexaspes, “and what followed?”

“The proud island-prince sent him at once. He cured me, as you see, and left us a few days ago loaded with presents.”

“Well,” interrupted Zopyrus, “I can quite understand, that Polykrates likes to keep his physician near him. I assure you, Darius, it would not be easy to find his equal. He’s as handsome as Minutscher, as clever as Piran Wisa, as strong as Rustem, and as benevolent and helpful as the god Soma. I wish you could have seen how well he threw those round metal plates he calls discs. I am no weakling, but when we wrestled he soon threw me. And then he could tell such famous stories—stories that made a man’s heart dance within him.”

[This very Oroetes afterwards succeeded in enticing Polykrates to

Sardis and there crucified him. Herod. III. 120-125. Valerius

Maximus VI. 9. 5.]

“We know just such a fellow too,” said Darius, smiling at his friend’s enthusiasm. “That Athenian Phanes, who came to prove our innocence.”

“The physician Democedes is from Crotona, a place which must be somewhere very near the setting sun.”

“But is inhabited by Greeks, like Athens.” added Oroetes. “Ah, my young friends, you must beware of those fellows; they’re as cunning, deceitful, and selfish, as they are strong, clever, and handsome.”

“Democedes is generous and sincere,” cried Zopyrus.

“And Croesus himself thinks Phanes not only an able, but a virtuous man,” added Darius.

“Sappho too has always, and only spoken well of the Athenian,” said Bartja, in confirmation of Darius’s remark. “But don’t let us talk any more about these Greeks,” he went on. “They give Oroetes so much trouble by their refractory and stubborn conduct, that he is not very fond of them.”

“The gods know that,” sighed the satrap. “It’s more difficult to keep one Greek town in order, than all the countries between the Euphrates and the Tigris.”

While Oroetes was speaking, Zopyrus had gone to the window. “The stars are already high in the heavens,” he said, “and Bartja is tired; so make haste, Darius, and tell us something about home.”

The son of Hystaspes agreed at once, and began by relating the events which we have heard already. Bartja, especially, was distressed at hearing of Nitetis’ sad end, and the discovery of Amasis’ fraud filled them all with astonishment. After a short pause, Darius went on:

“When once Nitetis’ descent had been fully proved, Cambyses was like a changed man. He called a council of war, and appeared at table in the royal robes instead of his mourning garments. You can fancy what universal joy the idea of a war with Egypt excited. Even Croesus, who you know is one of Amasis’ well-wishers, and advises peace whenever it is possible, had not a word to say against it. The next morning, as usual, what had been resolved on in intoxication was reconsidered by sober heads; after several opinions had been given, Phanes asked permission to speak, and spoke I should think for an hour. But how well! It was as if every word he said came direct from the gods. He has learnt our language in a wonderfully short time, but it flowed from his lips like honey. Sometimes he drew tears from every eye, at others excited stormy shouts of joy, and then wild bursts of rage. His gestures were as graceful as those of a dancing-girl, but at the same time manly and dignified. I can’t repeat his speech; my poor words, by the side of his, would sound like the rattle of a drum after a peal of thunder. But when at last, inspired and carried away by his eloquence, we had unanimously decided on war, he began to speak once more on the best ways and means of prosecuting it successfully.”

Here Darius was obliged to stop, as Zopyrus had fallen on his neck in an ecstasy of delight. Bartja, Gyges and Oroetes were not less delighted, and they all begged him to go on with his tale.

“Our army,” began Darius afresh, “ought to be at the boundaries of Egypt by the month Farwardin, (March) as the inundation of the Nile, which would hinder the march of our infantry, begins in Murdad (July). Phanes is now on his way to the Arabians to secure their assistance; in hopes that these sons of the desert may furnish our army with water and guides through their dry and thirsty land. He will also endeavor to win the rich island of Cyprus, which he once conquered for Amasis, over to our side. As it was through his mediation that the kings of the island were allowed to retain their crowns, they will be willing to listen to his advice. In short the Athenian leaves nothing uncared for, and knows every road and path as if he were the sun himself He showed us a picture of the world on a plate of copper.”

Oroetes nodded and said, “I have such a picture of the world too. A Milesian named Hekataeus, who spends his life in travelling, drew it, and gave it me in exchange for a free-pass.”

[Hekataeus of Miletus maybe called “the father of geography,” as

Herodotus was “the father of history.” He improved the map made by

Anaximander, and his great work, “the journey round the world,” was

much prized by the ancients; but unfortunately, with the exception

of some very small fragments, has now perished. Herodotus assures

us, (V. 36.) that Hekataeus was intimately acquainted with every

part of the Persian empire, and had also travelled over Egypt. he

lived at the date of our narrative, having been born at Miletus 550

B. C. He lived to see the fall of his native city in 4966 B. C.

His map has been restored by Klausen and can be seen also in Mure’s

Lan. and Lit. of Ancient Greece. Vol. IV. Maps existed, however,

much earlier, the earliest known being one of the gold-mines, drawn

very cleverly by an Egyptian priest, and so well sketched as to give

a pretty clear idea of the part of the country intended. It is

preserved in the Egyptian Museum at Turin.]

“What notions these Greeks have in their heads!” exclaimed Zopyrus, who could not explain to himself what a picture of the world could look like.

“To-morrow I will show you my copper tablet, said Oroetes, but now we must allow Darius to go on.”

“So Phanes has gone to Arabia,” continued Darius, “and Prexaspes was sent hither not only to command you, Oroetes, to raise as many forces as possible, especially Ionians and Carians, of whom Phanes has offered to undertake the command, but also to propose terms of alliance to Polykrates.”

“To that pirate!” asked Oroetes, and his face darkened.

“The very same,” answered Prexaspes, not appearing to notice the change in Oroetes’ face. “Phanes has already received assurances from this important naval power, which sound as if we might expect a favorable answer to my proposal.”

“The Phoenician, Syrian and Ionian ships of war would be quite sufficient to cope with the Egyptian fleet.”

“There you are right; but if Polykrates were to declare against us, we should not be able to hold our own at sea; you say yourself that he is all-powerful in the AEgean.”

“Still I decidedly disapprove of entering into treaty with such a robber.”

“We want powerful allies, and Polykrates is very powerful at sea. It will be time to humble him, when we have used him to help us in conquering Egypt. For the present I entreat you to suppress all personal feeling, and keep the success of our great plan alone in view. I am empowered to say this in the king’s name, and to show his ring in token thereof.”

Oroetes made a brief obeisance before this symbol of despotism, and asked: “What does Cambyses wish me to do?”

“He commands you to use every means in your power to secure an alliance with the Samian; and also to send your troops to join the main army on the plains of Babylon as soon as possible.”

The satrap bowed and left the room with a look betraying irritation and defiance.

When the echo of his footsteps had died away among the colonnades of the inner court, Zopyrus exclaimed: “Poor fellow, it’s really very hard for him to have to meet that proud man, who has so often behaved insolently to him, on friendly terms. Think of that story about the physician for instance.”

“You are too lenient,” interrupted Darius. “I don’t like this Oroetes. He has no right to receive the king’s commands in that way. Didn’t you see him bite his lips till they bled, when Prexaspes showed him the king’s ring?”

“Yes,” cried the envoy, “he’s a defiant, perverse man. He left the room so quickly, only because he could not keep down his anger any longer.”

“Still,” said Bartja, “I hope you will keep his conduct a secret from my brother, for he has been very good to me.”

Prexaspes bowed, but Darius said: “We must keep an eye on the fellow. Just here, so far from the king’s gate and in the midst of nations hostile to Persia, we want governors who are more ready to obey their king than this Oroetes seems to be. Why, he seems to fancy he is King of Lydia!”

“Do you dislike the satrap?” said Zopyrus.

“Well, I think I do,” was the answer. “I always take an aversion or a fancy to people at first sight, and very seldom find reason to change my mind afterwards. I disliked Oroetes before I heard him speak a word, and I remember having the same feeling towards Psamtik, though Amasis took my fancy.”

“There’s no doubt that you’re very different from the rest of us,” said Zopyrus laughing, “but now, to please me, let this poor Oroetes alone. I’m glad he’s gone though, because we can talk more freely about home. How is Kassandane? and your worshipped Atossa? Croesus too, how is he? and what are my wives about? They’ll soon have a new companion. To-morrow I intend to sue for the hand of Oroetes’ pretty daughter. We’ve talked a good deal of love with our eyes already. I don’t know whether we spoke Persian or Syrian, but we said the most charming things to one another.”

The friends laughed, and Darius, joining in their merriment, said: “Now you shall hear a piece of very good news. I have kept it to the last, because it is the best I have. Now, Bartja, prick up your ears. Your mother, the noble Kassandane, has been cured of her blindness! Yes, yes, it is quite true.—Who cured her? Why who should it be, but that crabbed old Nebenchari, who has become, if possible, moodier than ever. Come, now, calm yourselves, and let me go on with my story; or it will be morning before Bartja gets to sleep. Indeed. I think we had better separate now: you’ve heard the best, and have something to dream about What, you will not? Then, in the name of Mithras, I must go on, though it should make my heart bleed.

“I’ll begin with the king. As long as Phanes was in Babylon, he seemed to forget his grief for Nitetis.

“The Athenian was never allowed to leave him. They were as inseparable as Reksch and Rustem. Cambyses had no time to think of his sorrow, for Phanes had always some new idea or other, and entertained us all, as well as the king, marvellously. And we all liked him too; perhaps, because no one could really envy him. Whenever he was alone, the tears came into his eyes at the thought of his boy, and this made his great cheerfulness—a cheerfulness which he always managed to impart to the king, Bartja,—the more admirable. Every morning he went down to the Euphrates with Cambyses and the rest of us, and enjoyed watching the sons of the Achaemenidae at their exercises. When he saw them riding at full speed past the sand-hills and shooting the pots placed on them into fragments with their arrows, or throwing blocks of wood at one another and cleverly evading the blows, he confessed that he could not imitate them in these exercises, but at the same time he offered to accept a challenge from any of us in throwing the spear and in wrestling. In his quick way he sprang from his horse, stripped off his clothes—it was really a shame—and, to the delight of the boys, threw their wrestling-master as if he had been a feather.

[In the East, nudity was, even in those days, held to be

disgraceful, while the Greeks thought nothing so beautiful as the

naked human body. The Hetaira Phryne was summoned before the judges

for an offence against religion. Her defender, seeing that sentence

was about to be pronounced against his client, suddenly tore away

the garment which covered her bosom. The artifice was successful.

The judges pronounced her not guilty, being convinced that such

wondrous grace and beauty could only belong to a favorite of

Aphrodite. Athen. XIII. p. 590]

“Then he knocked over a number of bragging fellows, and would have thrown me too if he had not been too fatigued. I assure you, I am really stronger than he is, for I can lift greater weights, but he is as nimble as an eel, and has wonderful tricks by which he gets hold of his adversary. His being naked too is a great help. If it were not so indecent, we ought always to wrestle stripped, and anoint our skins, as the Greeks do, with the olive-oil. He beat us too in throwing the spear, but the king, who you know is proud of being the best archer in Persia, sent his arrow farther. Phanes was especially pleased with our rule, that in a wrestling-match the one who is thrown must kiss the hand of his victor. At last he showed us a new exercise:—boxing. He refused, however, to try his skill on any one but a slave, so Cambyses sent for the biggest and strongest man among the servants—my groom, Bessus—a giant who can bring the hind legs of a horse together and hold them so firmly that the creature trembles all over and cannot stir. This big fellow, taller by a head than Phanes, shrugged his shoulders contemptuously on hearing that he was to box with the little foreign gentleman. He felt quite sure of victory, placed himself opposite his adversary, and dealt him a blow heavy enough to kill an elephant. Phanes avoided it cleverly, in the same moment hitting the giant with his naked fist so powerfully under the eyes, that the blood streamed from his nose and mouth, and the huge, uncouth fellow fell on the ground with a yell. When they picked him up his face looked like a pumpkin of a greenish-blue color. The boys shouted with delight at his discomfiture; but we admired the dexterity of this Greek, and were especially glad to see the king in such good spirits; we noticed this most when Phanes was singing Greek songs and dance-melodies to him accompanied by the lute.

“Meanwhile Kassandane’s blindness had been cured, and this of course tended not a little to disperse the king’s melancholy.

“In short it was a very pleasant time, and I was just going to ask for Atossa’s hand in marriage, when Phanes went off to Arabia, and everything was changed.

“No sooner had he turned his back on the gates of Babylon than all the evil Divs seemed to have entered into the king. He went about, a moody, silent man, speaking to no one; and to drown his melancholy would begin drinking, even at an early hour in the morning, quantities of the strongest Syrian wine. By the evening he was generally so intoxicated that he had to be carried out of the hall, and would wake up the next morning with headache and spasms. In the day-time he would wander about as if looking for something, and in the night they often heard him calling Nitetis. The physicians became very anxious about his health, but when they sent him medicine he threw it away. It was quite right of Croesus to say, as he did once ‘Ye Magi and Chaldaeans! before trying to cure a sick man we must discover the seat of his disease. Do you know it in this case? No? Then I will tell you what ails the king. He has an internal complaint and a wound. The former is called ennui, and the latter is in his heart. The Athenian is a good remedy for the first, but for the second I know of none; such wounds either scar over of themselves, or the patient bleeds to death inwardly.’”

“I know of a remedy for the king though,” exclaimed Otanes when he heard these words. “We must persuade him to send for the women, or at least for my daughter Phaedime, back from Susa. Love is good for dispersing melancholy, and makes the blood flow faster.” We acknowledged that he was right, and advised him to remind the king of his banished wives. He ventured to make the proposal while we were at supper, but got such a harsh rebuff for his pains, that we all pitied him. Soon after this, Cambyses sent one morning for all the Mobeds and Chaldaeans, and commanded them to interpret a strange dream which he had bad. In his dream he had been standing in the midst of a dry and barren plain: barren as a threshing-floor, it did not produce a single blade of grass. Displeased at the desert aspect of the place, he was just going to seek other and more fruitful regions, when Atossa appeared, and, without seeing him, ran towards a spring which welled up through the arid soil as if by enchantment. While he was gazing in wonder at this scene, he noticed that wherever the foot of his sister touched the parched soil, graceful terebinths sprang up, changing, as they grew, into cypresses whose tops reached unto heaven. As he was going to speak to Atossa, he awoke.

The Mobeds and Chaldaeans consulted together and interpreted the dream thus? ‘Atossa would be successful in all she undertook.’

“Cambyses seemed satisfied with this answer, but, as the next night the vision appeared again, he threatened the wise men with death, unless they could give him another and a different interpretation. They pondered long, and at last answered, ‘that Atossa would become a queen and the mother of mighty princes.’

“This answer really contented the king, and he smiled strangely to himself as he told us his dream. ‘The same day Kassandane sent for me and told me to give up all thoughts of her daughter, as I valued my life.

“‘Just as I was leaving the queen’s garden I saw Atossa behind a pomegranate-bush. She beckoned. I went to her; and in that hour we forgot danger and sorrow, but said farewell to each other for ever. Now you know all; and now that I have given her up—now that I know it would be madness even to think of her again—I am obliged to be very stern with myself, lest, like the king, I should fall into deep melancholy for the sake of a woman. And this is the end of the story, the close of which we were all expecting, when Atossa, as I lay under sentence of death, sent me a rose, and made me the happiest of mortals. If I had not betrayed my secret then, when we thought our last hour was near, it would have gone with me to my grave. But what am I talking about? I know I can trust to your secrecy, but pray don’t look at me so deplorably. I think I am still to be envied, for I have had one hour of enjoyment that would outweigh a century of misery. Thank you,—thank you: now let me finish my story as quickly as I can.

“Three days after I had taken leave of Atossa I had to marry Artystone, the daughter of Gobryas. She is beautiful, and would make any other man happy. The day after the wedding the Angare reached Babylon with the news of your illness. My mind was made up at once; I begged the king to let me go to you, nurse you, and warn you of the danger which threatens your life in Egypt—took leave of my bride, in spite of all my father-in-law’s protestations, and went off at full speed with Prexaspes, never resting till I reached your side, my dear Bartja. Now I shall go with you and Zopyrus to Egypt, for Gyges must accompany the ambassador to Samos, as interpreter. This is the king’s command; he has been in better spirits the last few days; the inspection of the masses of troops coming up to Babylon diverts him, besides which, the Chaldaeans have assured him that the planet Adar, which belongs to their war-god Chanon, promises a great victory to the Persian arms. When do you think you shall be able to travel, Bartja?”

“To-morrow, if you like,” was the answer. “The doctors say the sea-voyage will do me good, and the journey by land to Smyrna is very short.”

“And I can assure you,” added Zopyrus, “that Sappho will cure you sooner than all the doctors in the world.”

“Then we will start in three days;” said Darius after some consideration, “we have plenty to do before starting. Remember we are going into what may almost be called an enemy’s country. I have been thinking the matter over, and it seems to me that Bartja must pass for a Babylonian carpet-merchant, I for his brother, and Zopyrus for a dealer in Sardian red.”

“Couldn’t we be soldiers?” asked Zopyrus. “It’s such an ignominious thing to be taken for cheating peddlers. How would it be, for instance, if we passed ourselves off for Lydian soldiers, escaped from punishment, and seeking service in the Egyptian army?”

“That’s not a bad idea,” said Bartja, “and I think too that we look more like soldiers than traders.”

“Looks and manner are no guide,” said Gyges. “Those great Greek merchants and ship-owners go about as proudly as if the world belonged to them. But I don’t find Zopyrus’ proposal a bad one.”

“Then so let it be,” said Darius, yielding. “In that case Oroetes must provide us with the uniform of Lydian Taxiarchs.”

“You’d better take the splendid dress of the Chiliarchs at once, I think,” cried Gyges.

“Why, on such young men, that would excite suspicion directly.”

“But we can’t appear as common soldiers.”

“No, but as Hekatontarchs.”

“All right,” said Zopyrus laughing. “Anything you like except a shop-keeper.—So in three days we are off. I am glad I shall just have time to make sure of the satrap’s little daughter, and to visit the grove of Cybele at last. Now, goodnight, Bartja; don’t get up too early. What will Sappho say, if you come to her with pale cheeks?”