"Entreat Cambyses to punish Gyges, and grant me free powers to pursue the
escaped Phanes as it shall seem good in mine eyes."

"Is that all?"

"Bind thyself by a solemn oath to the priests, that the Greeks shall be
prevented from erecting any more temples to their false gods in Egypt,
and that the building of the temple to Apollo, in Memphis, shall be
discontinued."

"I expected these demands. The priests have discovered a sharp weapon to
wield against me. Well, I am prepared to yield to the wishes of my
enemies, with whom thou hast leagued thyself, but only on two conditions.
First, I insist that the letter, which I confess to have written to the
father of Nebenchari in a moment of inconsideration, be restored to me.
If left in the hands of thy party, it could reduce me from a king to the
contemptible slave of priestly intrigue."

"That wish is reasonable. The letter shall be returned to thee, if. . . . "

"Not another if! on the contrary, know that I consider thy petition for
the punishment of Gyges so imprudent, that I refuse to grant it. Now
leave me and appear not again before mine eyes until I summon thee!
Yesterday I gained a son, only to lose him to-day. Rise! I demand no
tokens of a love and humility, which thou hast never felt. Go to the
priests when thou needest comfort and counsel, and see if they can supply
a father's place. Tell Neithotep, in whose hands thou art as wax, that he
has found the best means of forcing me to grant demands, which otherwise
I should have refused. Hitherto I have been willing to make every
sacrifice for the sake of upholding Egypt's greatness; but now, when I
see that, to attain their own ends, the priests can strive to move me by
the threat of treachery to their own country, I feel inclined to regard
this privileged caste as a more dangerous enemy to Egypt, than even the
Persians. Beware, beware! This once, having brought danger upon Egypt
through my own fatherly weakness, I give way to the intrigues of my
enemies; but, for the future, I swear by the great goddess Neith, that
men shall see and feel I am king; the entire priesthood shall be
sacrificed rather than the smallest fraction of my royal will!
Silence--depart!"

The prince left, but this time a longer interval was necessary, before
the king could regain even outward cheerfulness sufficient to enable him
to appear before his guests.

Psamtik went at once to the commander of the native troops, ordered him
to banish the Egyptian captain who had failed in executing his revengeful
plans, to the quarries of Thebais, and to send the Ethiopians back to
their native country. He then hurried to the high-priest of Neith, to
inform him how much he had been able to extort from the king,

Neithotep shook his head doubtfully on hearing of Amasis' threats, and
dismissed the prince with a few words of exhortation, a practice he never
omitted.

Psamtik returned home, his heart oppressed and his mind clouded with a
sense of unsatisfied revenge, of a new and unhappy rupture with his
father, a fear of foreign derision, a feeling of his subjection to the
will of the priests, and of a gloomy fate which had hung over his head
since his birth.

His once beautiful wife was dead; and, of five blooming children, only
one daughter remained to him, and a little son, whom he loved tenderly,
and to whom in this sad moment he felt drawn. For the blue eyes and
laughing mouth of his child were the only objects that ever thawed this
man's icy heart, and from these he now hoped for consolation and courage
on his weary road through life.

"Where is my son?" he asked of the first attendant who crossed his path.

"The king has just sent for the Prince Necho and his nurse," answered the
man.

At this moment the high-steward of the prince's household approached, and
with a low obeisance delivered to Psamtik a sealed papyrus letter, with
the words: "From your father, the king."

In angry haste he broke the yellow wax of the seal bearing the king's
name, and read: "I have sent for thy son, that he may not become, like
his father, a blind instrument in the hands of the priesthood, forgetful
of what is due to himself and his country. His education shall be my
care, for the impressions of childhood affect the whole of a man's later
life. Thou canst see him if thou wilt, but I must be acquainted with thy
intention beforehand."

[Signet rings were worn by the Egyptians at a very early period.
Thus, in Genesis 41. 42., Pharaoh puts his ring on Joseph's hand.
In the Berlin Museum and all other collections of Egyptian
antiquities, numbers of these rings are to be found, many of which
are more than 4000 years old.]

Psamtik concealed his indignation from the surrounding attendants with
difficulty. The mere wish of a royal father had, according to Egyptian
custom, as much weight as the strictest command. After reflecting a few
moments, he called for huntsmen, dogs, bows and lances, sprang into a
light chariot and commanded the charioteer to drive him to the western
marshes, where, in pursuing the wild beasts of the desert, he could
forget the weight of his own cares and wreak on innocent creatures his
hitherto baffled vengeance.

Gyges was released immediately after the conversation between his father
and Amasis, and welcomed with acclamations of joy by his companions. The
Pharaoh seemed desirous of atoning for the imprisonment of his friend's
son by doubling his favors, for on the same day Gyges received from the
king a magnificent chariot drawn by two noble brown steeds, and was
begged to take back with him to Persia a curiously-wrought set of
draughts, as a remembrance of Sais. The separate pieces were made of
ebony and ivory, some being curiously inlaid with sentences, in
hieroglyphics of gold and silver.

Amasis laughed heartily with his friends at Gyges' artifice, allowed the
young heroes to mix freely with his family, and behaved towards them
himself as a jovial father towards his merry sons. That the ancient
Egyptian was not quite extinguished in him could only be discerned at
meal-times, when a separate table was allotted to the Persians. The
religion of his ancestors would have pronounced him defiled, had he eaten
at the same table with men of another nation.

[Herodotus II. 41. says that the Egyptians neither kissed, nor ate
out of the same dish with foreigners, nay, indeed, that they refused
to touch meat, in the cutting up of which the knife of a Greek had
been used. Nor were the lesser dynasties of the Delta allowed,
according to the Stela of Pianchi, to cross the threshold of the
Pharaohs because they were unclean and ate fish. In the book of
Genesis, the brethren of Joseph were not allowed to eat bread with
the Egyptians.]

When Amasis, at last, three days after the release of Gyges, declared
that his daughter Nitetis would be prepared to depart for Asia in the
course of two more weeks, all the Persians regretted that their stay in
Egypt was so near its close.

Croesus had enjoyed the society of the Samian poets and sculptors. Gyges
had shared his father's preference for Greek art and artists. Darius, who
had formerly studied astronomy in Babylon, was one evening observing the
heavens, when, to his surprise, he was addressed by the aged Neithotep
and invited to follow him on to the temple-roof. Darius, ever eager to
acquire knowledge, did not wait to be asked twice, and was to be found
there every night in earnest attention to the old priest's lessons.

On one occasion Psamtik met him thus with his master, and asked the
latter what could have induced him to initiate a Persian in the Egyptian
mysteries.

"I am only teaching him," answered the high-priest, "what is as well
known to every learned Chaldee in Babylon as to ourselves, and am thereby
gaining the friendship of a man, whose stars as far outshine those of
Cambyses as the sun outshines the moon. This Darius, I tell thee, will be
a mighty ruler. I have even seen the beams of his planet shining over
Egypt. The truly wise man extends his gaze into the future, regards the
objects lying on either side of his road, as well as the road itself.
Thou canst not know in which of the many houses by which thou passest
daily, a future benefactor may not have been reared for thee. Leave
nought unnoticed that lies in thy path, but above all direct thy gaze
upward to the stars. As the faithful dog lies in wait night after night
for thieves, so have I watched these pilgrims of the heavens fifty years
long--these foretellers of the fates of men, burning in ethereal space,
and announcing, not only the return of summer and winter, but the arrival
of good and bad fortune, honor and disgrace. These are the unerring
guides, who have pointed out to me in Darius a plant, that will one day
wax into a mighty tree."

To Bartja, Darius' nightly studies were especially welcome; they
necessitated more sleep in the morning, and so rendered Bartja's stolen
early rides to Naukratis, (on which Zopyrus, to whom he had confided his
secret, accompanied him), easier of accomplishment. During the interviews
with Sappho, Zopyrus and the attendants used all their endeavors to kill
a few snipes, jackals or jerboas. They could then, on their return,
maintain to their Mentor Croesus, that they had been pursuing
fieldsports, the favorite occupation of the Persian nobility.

The change which the power of a first love had wrought in the innermost
character of Bartja, passed unnoticed by all but Tachot, the daughter of
Amasis. From the first day on which they had spoken together she had
loved him, and her quick feelings told her at once that something had
happened to estrange him from herself. Formerly his behavior had been
that of a brother, and he had sought her companionship; but now he
carefully avoided every approach to intimacy, for he had guessed her
secret and felt as if even a kind look would have been an offence against
his loyalty to Sappho.

In her distress at this change Tachot confided her sorrows to Nitetis.
The latter bade her take courage, and the two girls built many a castle
in the air, picturing to themselves the happiness of being always
together at one court, and married to two royal brothers. But as the days
went by, the visits of the handsome prince became more and more rare, and
when he did come, his behavior to Tachot was cold and distant. Yet the
poor girl could not but confess that Bartja had grown handsomer and more
manly during his stay in Egypt. An expression of proud and yet gentle
consciousness lay beaming in his large eyes, and a strange dreamy air of
rest often took the place of his former gay spirits. His cheeks had lost
their brilliant color, but that added to his beauty, while it lessened
hers, who, like him, became paler from day to day.

Melitta, the old slave, had taken the lovers under her protection. She
had surprised them one morning, but the prince had given her such rich
presents, and her darling had begged, flattered and coaxed so sweetly,
that at last Melitta promised to keep their secret, and later, yielding
to that natural impulse which moves all old women to favor lovers, had
even given them every assistance in her power. She already saw her "sweet
child" mistress of a hemisphere, often addressed her as "my Princess" and
"my Queen" when none were by to hear, and in many a weak moment imagined
a brilliant future for herself in some high office at the Persian court.



ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

A kind word hath far more power than an angry one
Abuse not those who have outwitted thee
Cannot understand how trifles can make me so happy
Confess I would rather provoke a lioness than a woman
Curiosity is a woman's vice
I cannot. . . .  Say rather: I will not
In this immense temple man seemed a dwarf in his own eyes
Know how to honor beauty; and prove it by taking many wives
Mosquito-tower with which nearly every house was provided
Natural impulse which moves all old women to favor lovers
Sent for a second interpreter
Sing their libels on women (Greek Philosophers)
Those are not my real friends who tell me I am beautiful
Young Greek girls pass their sad childhood in close rooms




AN EGYPTIAN PRINCESS.

By Georg Ebers

Volume 4.




CHAPTER XI.

Three days before the time fixed for the departure of Nitetis, Rhodopis
had invited a large number of guests to her house at Naukratis, amongst
whom Croesus and Gyges were included.

The two lovers had agreed to meet in the garden, protected by the
darkness and the old slave, while the guests were occupied at the
banquet. Melitta, therefore, having convinced herself that the guests
were thoroughly absorbed in conversation, opened the garden-gate,
admitted the prince, brought Sappho to him, and then retired, promising
to warn them of any intruder by clapping her hands.

"I shall only have you near me three days longer," whispered Sappho. "Do
you know, sometimes it seems to me as if I had only seen you yesterday
for the first time; but generally I feel as if you had belonged to me for
a whole eternity, and I had loved you all my life."

"To me too it seems as if you had always been mine, for I cannot imagine
how I could ever have existed without you. If only the parting were over
and we were together again!"

"Oh, believe me, that will pass more quickly than you fancy. Of course it
will seem long to wait--very long; but when it is over, and we are
together again, I think it will seem as if we had never been parted. So
it has been with me every day. How I have longed for the morning to come
and bring you with it! but when it came and you were sitting by my side,
I felt as if I had had you all the time and your hand had never left my
head."

"And yet a strange feeling of fear comes over me, when I think of our
parting hour."

"I do not fear it so very much. I know my heart will bleed when you say
farewell, but I am sure you will come back and will not have forgotten
me. Melitta wanted to enquire of the Oracle whether you would remain
faithful; and to question an old woman who has just come from Phrygia and
can conjure by night from drawn cords, with incense, styrax, moon-shaped
cakes, and wild-briar leaves; but I would have none of this, for my heart
knows better than the Pythia, the cords, or the smoke of sacrifice, that
you will be true to me, and love me always."

"And your heart speaks the truth."

"But I have sometimes been afraid; and have blown into a poppy-leaf, and
struck it, as the young girls here do. If it broke with a loud crack I
was very happy, and cried, 'Ah! he will not forget!' but if the leaf tore
without a sound I felt sad. I dare say I did this a hundred times, but
generally the leaf gave the wished-for sound, and I had much oftener
reason to be joyful than sad."

"May it be ever thus!"

"It must be! but dearest, do not speak so loudly; I see Knakias going
down to the Nile for water and he will hear us."

"Well, I will speak low. There, I will stroke back your silky hair and
whisper in your ear 'I love you.' Could you understand?"

"My grandmother says that it is easy to understand what we like to hear;
but if you had just whispered, 'I hate you,' your eyes would have told me
with a thousand glad voices that you loved me. Silent eyes are much more
eloquent than all the tongues in the world."

"If I could only speak the beautiful Greek language as you do, I would.."

"Oh, I am so glad you cannot, for if you could tell me all you feel, I
think you would not look into my eyes so lovingly. Words are nothing.
Listen to the nightingale yonder! She never had the gift of speech and
yet I think I can understand her."

"Will you confide her secret to me? I should like to know what Gulgul, as
we Persians call the nightingale, has to talk about to her mate in the
rose-bush. May you betray her secret?"

"I will whisper it softly. Philomel sings to her mate 'I love thee,' and
he answers, (don't you hear him?), 'Itys, ito, itys.'"

"And what does that mean, 'Ito, ito?'"

"I accept it."

"And Itys?"

"Oh, that must be explained, to be rightly understood. Itys is a circle;
and a circle, I was always taught, is the symbol of eternity, having
neither beginning nor end; so the nightingale sings, 'I accept it for
eternity.'"

"And if I say to you, 'I love thee?'"

"Then I shall answer gladly, like the sweet nightingale, 'I accept it for
to-day, to-morrow, for all eternity!'"

"What a wonderful night it is! everything so still and silent; I do not
even hear the nightingale now; she is sitting in the acacia-tree among
the bunches of sweet blossoms. I can see the tops of the palm-trees in
the Nile, and the moon's reflection between them, glistening like a white
swan."

"Yes, her rays are over every living thing like silver fetters, and the
whole world lies motionless beneath them like a captive woman. Happy as I
feel now, yet I could not even laugh, and still less speak in a loud
voice."

"Then whisper, or sing!"

"Yes, that is the best. Give me a lyre. Thank you. Now I will lean my
head on your breast, and sing you a little, quiet, peaceful song. It was
written by Alkman, the Lydian, who lived in Sparta, in praise of night
and her stillness. You must listen though, for this low, sweet
slumber-song must only leave the lips like a gentle wind. Do not kiss me
any more, please, till I have finished; then I will ask you to thank me
with a kiss:

"Now o'er the drowsy earth still night prevails,
Calm sleep the mountain tops and shady vales,
The rugged cliffs and hollow glens;

The wild beasts slumber in their dens;
The cattle on the bill. Deep in the sea
The countless finny race and monster brood
Tranquil repose. Even the busy bee
Forgets her daily toil. The silent wood
No more with noisy hum of insect rings;
And all the feathered tribe, by gentle sleep subdued,
Roost in the glade and hang their drooping wings."
--Translation by Colonel Mure.

"Now, dearest, where is my kiss?"

"I had forgotten it in listening, just as before I forgot to listen in
kissing."

"You are too bad. But tell me, is not my song lovely?"

"Yes, beautiful, like everything else you sing."

"And the Greek poets write?"

"Yes, there you are right too, I admit."

"Are there no poets in Persia?"

"How can you ask such a question? How could a nation, who despised song,
pretend to any nobility of feeling?"

"But you have some very bad customs."

"Well?"

"You take so many wives."

"My Sappho . . ."

"Do not misunderstand me. I love you so much, that I have no other wish
than to see you happy and be allowed to be always with you. If, by taking
me for your only wife, you would outrage the laws of your country, if you
would thereby expose yourself to contempt, or even blame, (for who could
dare to despise my Bartja!) then take other wives; but let me have you,
for myself alone, at least two, or perhaps even three years. Will you
promise this, Bartja?"

"I will."

"And then, when my time has passed, and you must yield to the customs of
your country (for it will not be love that leads you to bring home a
second wife), then let me be the first among your slaves. Oh! I have
pictured that so delightfully to myself. When you go to war I shall set
the tiara on your head, gird on the sword, and place the lance in your
hand; and when you return a conqueror, I shall be the first to crown you
with the wreath of victory. When you ride out to the chase, mine will be
the duty of buckling on your spurs, and when you go to the banquet, of
adorning and anointing you, winding the garlands of poplar and roses and
twining them around your forehead and shoulders. If wounded, I will be
your nurse; will never stir from your side if you are ill, and when I see
you happy will retire, and feast my eyes from afar on your glory and
happiness. Then perchance you will call me to your side, and your kiss
will say, 'I am content with my Sappho, I love her still.'"

"O Sappho, wert thou only my wife now!--to-day! The man who possesses
such a treasure as I have in thee, will guard it carefully, but never
care to seek for others which, by its side, can only show their miserable
poverty. He who has once loved thee, can never love another: I know it is
the custom in my country to have many wives, but this is only allowed;
there is no law to enjoin it. My father had, it is true, a hundred female
slaves, but only one real, true wife, our mother Kassandane."

"And I will be your Kassandane."

"No, my Sappho, for what you will be to me, no woman ever yet was to her
husband."

"When shall you come to fetch me?"

"As soon as I can, and am permitted to do so."

"Then I ought to be able to wait patiently."

"And shall I ever hear from you?"

"Oh, I shall write long, long letters, and charge every wind with loving
messages for you."

"Yes, do so, my darling; and as to the letters, give them to the
messenger who will bring Nitetis tidings from Egypt from time to time."

"Where shall I find him?"

"I will see that a man is stationed at Naukratis, to take charge of
everything you send to him. All this I will settle with Melitta."

"Yes, we can trust her, she is prudent and faithful; but I have another
friend, who is dearer to me than any one else excepting you, and who
loves me too better than any one else does, but you--"

"You mean your grandmother Rhodopis."

"Yes, my faithful guardian and teacher."

"Ah, she is a noble woman. Croesus considers her the most excellent among
women, and he has studied mankind as the physicians do plants and herbs.
He knows that rank poison lies hidden in some, in others healing
cordials, and often says that Rhodopis is like a rose which, while fading
away herself, and dropping leaf after leaf, continues to shed perfume and
quickening balsam for the sick and weak, and awaits in patience the wind
which at last shall waft her from us."

"The gods grant that she may be with us for a long time yet! Dearest,
will you grant me one great favor?"

"It is granted before I hear it."

"When you take me home, do not leave Rhodopis here. She must come with
us. She is so kind and loves me so fervently, that what makes me happy
will make her so too, and whatever is dear to me, will seem to her worthy
of being loved."

"She shall be the first among our guests."

"Now I am quite happy and satisfied, for I am necessary to my
grandmother; she could not live without her child. I laugh her cares and
sorrows away, and when she is singing to me, or teaching me how to guide
the style, or strike the lute, a clearer light beams from her brow, the
furrows ploughed by grief disappear, her gentle eyes laugh, and she seems
to forget the evil past in the happy present."

"Before we part, I will ask her whether she will follow us home."

"Oh, how glad that makes me! and do you know, the first days of our
absence from each other do not seem so very dreadful to me. Now you are
to be my husband, I may surely tell you everything that pains or pleases
me, even when I dare not tell any one else, and so you must know, that,
when you leave, we expect two little visitors; they are the children of
the kind Phanes, whom your friend Gyges saved so nobly. I mean to be like
a mother to the little creatures, and when they have been good I shall
sing them a story of a prince, a brave hero, who took a simple maiden to
be his wife; and when I describe the prince I shall have you in my mind,
and though my little listeners will not guess it, I shall be describing
you from head to foot. My prince shall be tall like you, shall have your
golden curls and blue eyes, and your rich, royal dress shall adorn his
noble figure. Your generous heart, your love of truth, and your beautiful
reverence for the gods, your courage and heroism, in short, every thing
that I love and honor in you, I shall give to the hero of my tale. How
the children will listen! and when they cry, 'Oh, how we love the prince,
how good and beautiful he must be! if we could only see him? then I shall
press them close to my heart and kiss them as I kiss you now, and so they
will have gained their wish, for as you are enthroned in my heart, you
must be living within me and therefore near to them, and when they
embrace me they will embrace you too."

"And I shall go to my little sister Atossa and tell her all I have seen
on my journey, and when I speak of the Greeks, their grace, their
glorious works of art, and their beautiful women, I shall describe the
golden Aphrodite in your lovely likeness. I shall tell her of your
virtue, your beauty and modesty, of your singing, which is so sweet that
even the nightingale is silent in order to listen to it, of your love and
tenderness. But all this I shall tell her belongs to the divine Cypris,
and when she cries, 'O Aphrodite, could I but see thee!' I too shall kiss
my sister."

"Hark, what was that? Melitta surely clapped her hands. Farewell, we must
not stay! but we shall soon see each other again."

"One more kiss!"

"Farewell!"

Melitta had fallen asleep at her post, overcome by age and weariness. Her
dreams were suddenly disturbed by a loud noise, and she clapped her hands
directly to warn the lovers and call Sappho, as she perceived by the
stars that the dawn was not far off.

As the two approached the house, they discovered that the noise which had
awakened the old slave, proceeded from the guests, who were preparing for
departure.

Urging her to make the greatest haste, Melitta pushed the frightened girl
into the house, took her at once to her sleeping-room, and was beginning
to undress her when Rhodopis entered.

"You are still up, Sappho?" she asked.

"What is this, my child?"

Melitta trembled and had a falsehood ready on her lips, but Sappho,
throwing herself into her grandmother's arms, embraced her tenderly and
told the whole story of her love.

Rhodopis turned pale, ordered Melitta to leave the chamber, and, placing
herself in front of her grandchild, laid both hands on her shoulders and
said earnestly, "Look into my eyes, Sappho. Canst thou look at me as
happily and as innocently, as thou couldst before this Persian came to
us?"

The girl raised her eyes at once with a joyful smile; then Rhodopis
clasped her to her bosom, kissed her and continued: "Since thou wert a
little child my constant effort has been to train thee to a noble
maidenhood and guard thee from the approach of love. I had intended, in
accordance with the customs of our country, to choose a fitting husband
for thee shortly myself, to whose care I should have committed thee; but
the gods willed differently.

[The Spartans married for love, but the Athenians were accustomed to
negotiate their marriages with the parents of the bride alone.]

Eros mocks all human efforts to resist or confine him; warm AEolian blood
runs in thy veins and demands love; the passionate heart of thy Lesbian
forefathers beats in thy breast.

[Charaxus, the grandfather of our heroine, and brother of the
poetess Sappho, was, as a Lesbian, an AEolian Greek.]

What has happened cannot now be undone. Treasure these happy hours of a
first, pure love; hold them fast in the chambers of memory, for to every
human being there must come, sooner or later, a present so sad and
desolate, that the beautiful past is all he has to live upon. Remember
this handsome prince in silence, bid him farewell when he departs to his
native country, but beware of hoping to see him again. The Persians are
fickle and inconstant, lovers of everything new and foreign. The prince
has been fascinated by thy sweetness and grace. He loves thee ardently
now, but remember, he is young and handsome, courted by every one, and a
Persian. Give him up that he may not abandon thee!"

"But how can I, grandmother? I have sworn to be faithful to him for
ever."

"Oh, children! Ye play with eternity as if it were but a passing moment!
I could blame thee for thus plighting thy troth, but I rejoice that thou
regardest the oath as binding. I detest the blasphemous proverb: 'Zeus
pays no heed to lovers' oaths.' Why should an oath touching the best and
holiest feelings of humanity be regarded by the Deity, as inferior in
importance to asseverations respecting the trifling questions of mine and
thine? Keep thy promise then,--hold fast thy love, but prepare to
renounce thy lover."

"Never, grandmother! could I ever have loved Bartja, if I had not trusted
him? Just because he is a Persian and holds truth to be the highest
virtue, I may venture to hope that he will remember his oath, and,
notwithstanding those evil customs of the Asiatics, will take and keep me
as his only wife."

"But if he should forget, thy youth will be passed in mourning, and with
an embittered heart . . ."

"O, dear kind grandmother, pray do not speak of such dreadful things. If
you knew him as well as I do, you would rejoice with me, and would tell
me I was right to believe that the Nile may dry up and the Pyramids
crumble into ruins, before my Bartja can ever deceive me!"

The girl spoke these words with such a joyful, perfect confidence, and
her eyes, though filled with tears, were so brilliant with happiness and
warmth of feeling, that Rhodopis' face grew cheerful too.

Sappho threw her arms again round her grandmother, told her every word
that Bartja had said to her, and ended the long account by exclaiming:
"Oh, grandmother, I am so happy, so very happy, and if you will come with
us to Persia, I shall have nothing more to wish from the Immortals."

"That will not last long," said Rhodopis. "The gods cast envious glances
at the happiness of mortals; they measure our portion of evil with lavish
hands, and give us but a scanty allowance of good. But now go to bed, my
child, and let us pray together that all may end happily. I met thee this
morning as a child, I part from thee to-night a woman; and, when thou art
a wife, may thy kiss be as joyful as the one thou givest me now.
To-morrow I will talk the matter over with Croesus. He must decide
whether I dare allow thee to await the return of the Persian prince, or
whether I must entreat thee to forget him and become the domestic wife of
a Greek husband. Sleep well, my darling, thy grandmother will wake and
watch for thee."

Sappho's happy fancies soon cradled her to sleep; but Rhodopis remained
awake watching the day dawn, and the sun rise, her mind occupied with
thoughts which brought smiles and frowns across her countenance in rapid
succession.

The next morning she sent to Croesus, begging him to grant her an hour's
interview, acquainted him with every particular she had heard from
Sappho, and concluded her tale with these words: "I know not what demands
may be made on the consort of a Persian king, but I can truly say that I
believe Sappho to be worthy of the first monarch of the world. Her father
was free and of noble birth, and I have heard that, by Persian law, the
descent of a child is determined by the rank of the father only. In
Egypt, too, the descendants of a female slave enjoy the same rights as
those of a princess, if they owe their existence to the same father."

"I have listened to you in silence," answered Croesus, "and must confess,
that, like yourself, I do not know in this moment whether to be glad or
sorry for this attachment. Cambyses and Kassandane (the king's and
Bartja's mother) wished to see the prince married before we left Persia,
for the king has no children, and should he remain childless, the only
hope for the family of Cyrus rests on Bartja, as the great founder of the
Persian empire left but two sons,--Cambyses, and him who is now the
suitor of your granddaughter. The latter is the hope and pride of the
entire Persian nation, high and low; the darling of the people; generous,
and noble, handsome, virtuous, and worthy of their love. It is indeed
expected that the princes shall marry in their own family, the
Achaemenidae; but the Persians have an unbounded predilection for
everything foreign. Enchanted with the beauty of your granddaughter, and
rendered indulgent by their partiality for Bartja, they would easily
forgive this breach of an ancient custom. Indeed, if the king gives his
approval, no objection on the part of his subjects can be entertained.
The history of Iran too offers a sufficient number of examples, in which
even slaves became the mothers of kings. The queen mother, whose
position, in the eyes of the people, is nearly as high as that of the
monarch himself, will do nothing to thwart the happiness of her youngest
and favorite son. When she sees that he will not give up Sappho,--that
his smiling face, in which she adores the image of her great husband
Cyrus, becomes clouded, I verily believe she would be ready to sanction
his taking even a Scythian woman to wife, if it could restore him to
cheerfulness. Neither will Cambyses himself refuse his consent if his
mother press the point at a right moment."