right eyelid; or when I was putting my box to rights and found the laurel
crown which I put by as a remembrance, because you looked so well in
it,--Melitta says such wreaths are good for keeping true love--then I
used to clap my hands with joy and think, 'to-day he must come;' and I
would run down to the Nile and wave my handkerchief to every passing
boat, for every boat I thought must be bringing you to me."

[A bird flying from the right side, and a twitching of the right eye
were considered fortunate omens. Theokrirus, III. 37]

"But you did not come, and then I went sadly home, and would sit down by
the fire on the hearth in the women's room, and sing, and gaze into the
fire till grandmother would wake me out of my dream by saying: 'Listen to
me, girl; whoever dreams by daylight is in danger of lying awake at
night, and getting up in the morning with a sad heart, a tired brain and
weary limbs. The day was not given us for sleep, and we must live in it
with open eyes, that not a single hour may be idly spent. The past
belongs to the dead; only fools count upon the future; but wise men hold
fast by the ever young present; by work they foster all the various gifts
which Zeus, Apollo, Pallas, Cypris lend; by work they raise, and perfect
and ennoble them, until their feelings, actions, words and thoughts
become harmonious like a well-tuned lute. You cannot serve the man to
whom you have given your whole heart,--to whom in your great love you
look up as so much higher than yourself--you cannot prove the
steadfastness and faithfulness of that love better, than by raising and
improving your mind to the utmost of your power. Every good and beautiful
truth that you learn is an offering to him you love best, for in giving
your whole self, you give your virtues too. But no one gains this victory
in dreams. The dew by which such blossoms are nourished is called the
sweat of man's brow.' So she would speak to me, and then I started up
ashamed and left the hearth, and either took my lyre to learn new songs,
or listened to my loving teacher's words--she is wiser than most
men--attentively and still. And so the time passed on; a rapid stream,
just like our river Nile, which flows unceasingly, and brings such
changing scenes upon its waves, sometimes a golden boat with streamers
gay,--sometimes a fearful, ravenous crocodile."

"But now we are sitting in the golden boat. Oh, if time's waves would
only cease to flow! If this one moment could but last for aye. You lovely
girl, how perfectly you speak, how well you understand and remember all
this beautiful teaching and make it even more beautiful by your way of
repeating it. Yes, Sappho, I am very proud of you. In you I have a
treasure which makes me richer than my brother, though half the world
belongs to him."

"You proud of me? you, a king's son, the best and handsomest of your
family?"

"The greatest worth that I can find in myself is, that you think me
worthy of your love."

"Tell me, ye gods, how can this little heart hold so much joy without
breaking? 'Tis like a vase that's overfilled with purest, heaviest gold?"

"Another heart will help you to bear it; and that is my own, for mine is
again supported by yours, and with that help I can laugh at every evil
that the world or night may bring."

"Oh, don't excite the envy of the gods; human happiness often vexes them.
Since you left us we have passed some very, very sad days. The two poor
children of our kind Phanes--a boy as beautiful as Eros, and a little
girl as fair and rosy as a summer morning's cloud just lit up by the
sun,--came for some happy days to stay with us. Grandmother grew quite
glad and young again while looking on these little ones, and as for me I
gave them all my heart, though really it is your's and your's alone. But
hearts, you know, are wonderfully made; they're like the sun who sends
his rays everywhere, and loses neither warmth nor light by giving much,
but gives to all their due. I loved those little ones so very much. One
evening we were sitting quite alone with Theopompus in the women's room,
when suddenly we heard aloud, wild noise. The good old Knakias, our
faithful slave, just reached the door as all the bolts gave way, and,
rushing through the entrance-hall into the peristyle, the andronitis, and
so on to us, crashing the door between, came a troop of soldiers.
Grandmother showed them the letter by which Amasis secured our house from
all attack and made it a sure refuge, but they laughed the writing to
scorn and showed us on their side a document with the crown-prince's
seal, in which we were sternly commanded to deliver up Phanes' children
at once to this rough troop of men. Theopompus reproved the soldiers for
their roughness, telling them that the children came from Corinth and had
no connection with Phanes; but the captain of the troop defied and
sneered at him, pushed my grandmother rudely away, forced his way into
her own apartment, where among her most precious treasures, at the head
of her own bed, the two children lay sleeping peacefully, dragged them
out of their little beds and took them in an open boat through the cold
night-air to the royal city. In a few days we heard the boy was dead.
They say he has been killed by Psamtik's orders; and the little girl, so
sweet and dear, is lying in a dismal dungeon, and pining for her father
and for us. Oh, dearest, isn't it a painful thing that sorrows such as
these should come to mar our perfect happiness? My eyes weep joy and
sorrow in the same moment, and my lips, which have just been laughing
with you, have now to tell you this sad story."

"I feel your pain with you, my child, but it makes my hand clench with
rage instead of filling my eyes with tears. That gentle boy whom you
loved, that little girl who now sits weeping in the dark dungeon, shall
both be revenged. Trust me; before the Nile has risen again, a powerful
army will have entered Egypt, to demand satisfaction for this murder."

"Oh, dearest, how your eyes are glowing! I never saw you look so
beautiful before. Yes, yes, the boy must be avenged, and none but you
must be his avenger."

"My gentle Sappho is becoming warlike too."

"Yes, women must feel warlike when wickedness is so triumphant; women
rejoice too when such crimes are punished. Tell me has war been declared
already?"

"Not yet; but hosts on hosts are marching to the valley of the Euphrates
to join our main army."

"My courage sinks as quickly as it rose. I tremble at the word, the mere
word, war. How many childless mothers Ares makes, how many young fair
heads must wear the widow's veil, how many pillows are wet through with
tears when Pallas takes her shield."

"But a man developes in war; his heart expands, his arm grows strong. And
none rejoice more than you when he returns a conqueror from the field.
The wife of a Persian, especially, ought to rejoice in the thought of
battle, for her husband's honor and fame are dearer to her than his
life."

"Go to the war. I shall pray for you there."

"And victory will be with the right. First we will conquer Pharaoh's
host, then release Phanes' little daughter . . ."

"And then Aristomachus, the brave old man who succeeded Phanes when he
fled. He has vanished, no one knows whither, but people say that the
crown-prince has either imprisoned him in a dismal dungeon on account of
his having uttered threats of retaliating the cruelty shown to Phanes'
children, or--what would be worse--has had him dragged off to some
distant quarry. The poor old man was exiled from his home, not for his
own fault, but by the malice of his enemies, and the very day on which we
lost sight of him an embassy arrived here from the Spartan people
recalling Aristomachus to the Eurotas with all the honors Greece could
bestow, because his sons had brought great glory to their country. A ship
wreathed with flowers was sent to fetch the honored old man, and at the
head of the deputation was his own brave, strong son, now crowned with
glory and fame."

"I know him. He's a man of iron. Once he mutilated himself cruelly to
avoid disgrace. By the Anahita star, which is setting so beautifully in
the east, he shall be revenged!"

"Oh, can it be so late? To me the time has gone by like a sweet breeze,
which kissed my forehead and passed away. Did not you hear some one call?
They will be waiting for us, and you must be at your friend's house in
the town before dawn. Good-bye, my brave hero."

"Good-bye, my dearest one. In five days we shall hear our marriage-hymn.
But you tremble as if we were going to battle instead of to our wedding."

"I'm trembling at the greatness of our joy; one always trembles in
expectation of anything unusually great."

"Hark, Rhodopis is calling again; let us go. I have asked Theopompus to
arrange everything about our wedding with her according to the usual
custom; and I shall remain in his house incognito until I can carry you
off as my own dear wife."

"And I will go with you."

The next morning, as the three friends were walking with their host in
his garden, Zopyrus exclaimed: "Wily, Bartja, I've been dreaming all
night of your Sappho. What a lucky fellow you are! Why I fancied my new
wife in Sardis was no end of a beauty until I saw Sappho, and now when I
think of her she seems like an owl. If Araspes could see Sappho he would
be obliged to confess that even Panthea had been outdone at last. Such a
creature was never made before. Auramazda is an awful spendthrift; he
might have made three beauties out of Sappho. And how charmingly it
sounded when she said 'good-night' to us in Persian."

"While I was away," said Bartja, "she has been taking a great deal of
trouble to learn Persian from the wife of a Babylonian carpet-merchant, a
native of Susa, who is living at Naukratis, in order to surprise me.

"Yes, she is a glorious girl," said Theopompus. "My late wife loved the
little one as if she had been her own child. She would have liked to have
had her as a wife for our son who manages the affairs of my house at
Miletus, but the gods have ordained otherwise! Ah, how glad she would
have been to see the wedding garland at Rhodopis' door!"

"Is it the custom here to ornament a bride's house with flowers?" said
Zopyrus.

"Certainly," answered Theopompus. "When you see a door hung with flowers
you may always know that house contains a bride; an olive-branch is a
sign that a boy has just come into the world, and a strip of woollen
cloth hanging over the gate that a girl has been born; but a vessel of
water before the door is the token of death. But business-hour at the
market is very near, my friends, and I must leave you, as I have affairs
of great importance to transact."

"I will accompany you," said Zopyrus, "I want to order some garlands for
Rhodopis' house."

"Aha," laughed the Milesian. "I see, you want to talk to the flower-girls
again. Come, it's of no use to deny. Well, if you like you can come with
me, but don't be so generous as you were yesterday, and don't forget that
if certain news of war should arrive, your disguise may prove dangerous."

The Greek then had his sandals fastened on by his slaves and started for
the market, accompanied by Zopyrus. In a few hours he returned with such
a serious expression on his usually cheerful face, that it was easy to
see something very important had happened.

"I found the whole town in great agitation," he said to the two friends
who had remained at home; "there is a report that Amasis is at the point
of death. We had all met on the place of exchange in order to settle our
business, and I was on the point of selling all my stored goods at such
high prices as to secure me a first-rate profit, with which, when the
prospect of an important war had lowered prices again, I could have
bought in fresh goods--you see it stands me in good stead to know your
royal brother's intentions so early--when suddenly the Toparch appeared
among us, and announced that Amasis was not only seriously ill, but that
the physicians had given up all hope, and he himself felt he was very
near death. We must hold ourselves in readiness for this at any moment,
and for a very serious change in the face of affairs. The death of Amasis
is the severest loss that could happen to us Greeks; he was always our
friend, and favored us whenever he could, while his son is our avowed
enemy and will do his utmost to expel us from the country. If his father
had allowed, and he himself had not felt so strongly the importance and
value of our mercenary troops, he would have turned us hateful foreigners
out long ago. Naukratis and its temples are odious to him. When Amasis is
dead our town will hail Cambyses' army with delight, for I have had
experience already, in my native town Miletus, that you are accustomed to
show respect to those who are not Persians and to protect their rights."

"Yes," said Bartja, "I will take care that all your ancient liberties
shall be confirmed by my brother and new ones granted you."

"Well, I only hope he will soon be here," exclaimed the Greek, "for we
know that Psamtik, as soon as he possibly can, will order our temples,
which are an abomination to him, to be demolished. The building of a
place of sacrifice for the Greeks at Memphis has long been put a stop
to."

"But here," said Darius, "we saw a number of splendid temples as we came
up from the harbor."

"Oh, yes, we have several.--Ah, there comes Zopyrus; the slaves are
carrying a perfect grove of garlands behind him. He's laughing so
heartily, he must have amused himself famously with the flower-girls.
Good-morning, my friend. The sad news which fills all Naukratis does not
seem to disturb you much."

"Oh, for anything I care, Amasis may go on living a hundred years yet.
But if he dies now, people will have something else to do beside looking
after us. When do you set off for Rhodopis' house, friends?"

"At dusk."

"Then please, ask her to accept these flowers from me. I never thought I
could have been so taken by an old woman before. Every word she says
sounds like music, and though she speaks so gravely and wisely it's as
pleasant to the ear as a merry joke. But I shan't go with you this time,
Bartja; I should only be in the way. Darius, what have you made up your
mind to do?"

"I don't want to lose one chance of a conversation with Rhodopis."

"Well, I don't blame you. You're all for learning and knowing everything,
and I'm for enjoying. Friends, what do you say to letting me off this
evening? You see. . . ."

"I know all about it," interrupted Bartja laughing: "You've only seen the
flower-girls by daylight as yet, and you would like to know how they look
by lamplight."

"Yes, that's it," said Zopyrus, putting on a grave face. "On that point I
am quite as eager after knowledge as Darius."

"Well, we wish you much pleasure with your three sisters."

"No, no, not all three, if you please; Stephanion, the youngest, is my
favorite."

Morning had already dawned when Bartja, Darius and Theopompus left
Rhodopis' house. Syloson, a Greek noble who had been banished from his
native land by his own brother, Polykrates the tyrant, had been spending
the evening with them, and was now returning in their company to
Naukratis, where he had been living many years.

This man, though an exile, was liberally supplied with money by his
brother, kept the most brilliant establishment in Naukratis, and was as
famous for his extravagant hospitality as for his strength and
cleverness. Syloson was a very handsome man too, and so remarkable for
the good taste and splendor of his dress, that the youth of Naukratis
prided themselves on imitating the cut and hang of his robes. Being
unmarried, he spent many of his evenings at Rhodopis' house, and had been
told the secret of her granddaughter's betrothal.

On that evening it had been settled, that in four days the marriage
should be celebrated with the greatest privacy. Bartja had formally
betrothed himself to Sappho by eating a quince with her, on the same day
on which she had offered sacrifices to Zeus, Hera, and the other deities
who protected marriage. The wedding-banquet was to be given at the house
of Theopompus, which was looked upon as the bridegroom's. The prince's
costly bridal presents had been entrusted to Rhodopis' care, and Bartja
had insisted on renouncing the paternal inheritance which belonged to his
bride and on transferring it to Rhodopis, notwithstanding her determined
resistance.

Syloson accompanied the friends to Rhodopis' house, and was just about to
leave them, when a loud noise in the streets broke the quiet stillness of
the night, and soon after, a troop of the watch passed by, taking a man
to prison. The prisoner seemed highly indignant, and the less his broken
Greek oaths and his utterances in some other totally unintelligible
language were understood by the Egyptian guards, the more violent he
became.

Directly Bartja and Darius heard the voice they ran up, and recognized
Zopyrus at once.

Syloson and Theopompus stopped the guards, and asked what their captive
had done. The officer on duty recognized them directly; indeed every
child in Naukratis knew the Milesian merchant and the brother of the
tyrant Polykrates by sight; and he answered at once, with a respectful
salutation, that the foreign youth they were leading away had been guilty
of murder.

Theopompus then took him on one side and endeavored, by liberal promises,
to obtain the freedom of the prisoner. The man, however, would concede
nothing but a permission to speak with his captive. Meanwhile his friends
begged Zopyrus to tell them at once what had happened, and heard the
following story: The thoughtless fellow had visited the flower-girls at
dusk and remained till dawn. He had scarcely closed their housedoor on
his way home, when he found himself surrounded by a number of young men,
who had probably been lying in wait for him, as he had already had a
quarrel with one of them, who called himself the betrothed lover of
Stephanion, on that very morning. The girl had told her troublesome
admirer to leave her flowers alone, and had thanked Zopyrus for
threatening to use personal violence to the intruder. When the young
Achaemenidae found himself surrounded, he drew his sword and easily
dispersed his adversaries, as they were only armed with sticks, but
chanced to wound the jealous lover, who was more violent than the rest,
so seriously, that he fell to the ground. Meanwhile the watch had come
up, and as Zopyrus' victim howled "thieves" and "murder" incessantly,
they proceeded to arrest the offender. This was not so easy. His blood
was up, and rushing on them with his drawn sword, he had already cut his
way through the first troop when a second came up. He was not to be
daunted, attacked them too, split the skull of one, wounded another in
the arm and was taking aim for a third blow, when he felt a cord round
his neck. It was drawn tighter and tighter till at last he could not
breathe and fell down insensible. By the time he came to his senses he
was bound, and notwithstanding all his appeals to his pass and the name
of Theopompus, was forced to follow his captors.

When the tale was finished the Milesian did not attempt to conceal his
strong disapprobation, and told Zopyrus that his most unseasonable love
of fighting might be followed by the saddest consequences. After saying
this, he turned to the officer and begged him to accept his own personal
security for the prisoner. The other, however, refused gravely, saying he
might forfeit his own life by doing so, as a law existed in Egypt by
which the concealer of a murder was condemned to death. He must, he
assured them, take the culprit to Sais and deliver him over to the
Nomarch for punishment. "He has murdered an Egyptian," were his last
words, "and must therefore be tried by an Egyptian supreme court. In any
other case I should be delighted to render you any service in my power."

During this conversation Zopyrus had been begging his friends not to take
any trouble about him. "By Mithras," he cried, when Bartja offered to
declare himself to the Egyptians as a means of procuring his freedom, "I
vow I'll stab myself without a second thought, if you give yourselves up
to those dogs of Egyptians. Why the whole town is talking about the war
already, and do you think that if Psamtik knew he'd got such splendid
game in his net, he would let you loose? He would keep you as hostages,
of course. No, no, my friends. Good-bye; may Auramazda send you his best
blessings! and don't quite forget the jovial Zopyrus, who lived and died
for love and war."

The captain of the band placed himself at the head of his men, gave the
order to march, and in a few minutes Zopyrus was out of sight.



ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

Corpse to be torn in pieces by dogs and vultures
He is the best host, who allows his guests the most freedom
The past belongs to the dead; only fools count upon the future
They praise their butchers more than their benefactors
We've talked a good deal of love with our eyes already
Wise men hold fast by the ever young present




AN EGYPTIAN PRINCESS.

By Georg Ebers

Volume 9.




CHAPTER XI.

According to the law of Egypt, Zopyrus had deserved death.

As soon as his friends heard this, they resolved to go to Sais and try to
rescue him by stratagem. Syloson, who had friends there and could speak
the Egyptian language well, offered to help them.

Bartja and Darius disguised themselves so completely by dyeing their hair
and eyebrows and wearing broad-brimmed felt-hats,--that they could
scarcely recognize each other. Theopompus provided them with ordinary
Greek dresses, and, an hour after Zopyrus' arrest, they met the
splendidly-got-up Syloson on the shore of the Nile, entered a boat
belonging to him and manned by his slaves, and, after a short sail,
favored by the wind, reached Sais,--which lay above the waters of the
inundation like an island,--before the burning midsummer sun had reached
its noonday height.

They disembarked at a remote part of the town and walked across the
quarter appropriated to the artisans. The workmen were busy at their
calling, notwithstanding the intense noonday heat. The baker's men were
at work in the open court of the bakehouse, kneading bread--the coarser
kind of dough with the feet, the finer with the hands. Loaves of various
shapes were being drawn out of the ovens-round and oval cakes, and rolls
in the form of sheep, snails and hearts. These were laid in baskets, and
the nimble baker's boys would put three, four, or even five such baskets
on their heads at once, and carry them off quickly and safely to the
customers living in other quarters of the city. A butcher was
slaughtering an ox before his house, the creature's legs having been
pinioned; and his men were busy sharpening their knives to cut up a wild
goat. Merry cobblers were calling out to the passers-by from their
stalls; carpenters, tailors, joiners and weavers--were all there, busy at
their various callings. The wives of the work-people were going out
marketing, leading their naked children by the hand, and some soldiers
were loitering near a man who was offering beer and wine for sale.

But our friends took very little notice of what was going on in the
streets through which they passed; they followed Syloson in silence.

At the Greek guard-house he asked them to wait for him. Syloson,
happening to know the Taxiarch who was on duty that day, went in and
asked him if he had heard anything of a man accused of murder having been
brought from Naukratis to Sais that morning.

"Of course," said the Greek. "It's not more than half an hour since he
arrived. As they found a purse full of money in his girdle, they think he
must be a Persian spy. I suppose you know that Cambyses is preparing for
war with Egypt."

"Impossible!"

"No, no, it's a fact. The prince-regent has already received information.
A caravan of Arabian merchants arrived yesterday at Pelusium, and brought
the news."

"It will prove as false as their suspicions about this poor young Lydian.
I know him well, and am very sorry for the poor fellow. He belongs to one
of the richest families in Sardis, and only ran away for fear of the
powerful satrap Oroetes, with whom he had had a quarrel. I'll tell you
the particulars when you come to see me next in Naukratis. Of course
you'll stay a few days and bring some friends. My brother has sent me
some wine which beats everything I ever tasted. It's perfect nectar, and
I confess I grudge offering it to any one who's not, like you, a perfect
judge in such matters." The Taxiarch's face brightened up at these words,
and grasping Syloson's hand, he exclaimed. "By the dog, my friend, we
shall not wait to be asked twice; we'll come soon enough and take a good
pull at your wine-skins. How would it be if you were to ask Archidice,
the three flower-sisters, and a few flute-playing-girls to supper?"

[Archidice--A celebrated Hetaira of Naukratis mentioned by Herod.
II. 135. Flute-playing girls were seldom missing at the young
Greeks' drinking-parties]

"They shall all be there. By the bye, that reminds me that the
flower-girls were the cause of that poor young Lydian's imprisonment.
Some jealous idiot attacked him before their house with a number of
comrades. The hot-brained young fellow defended himself . . . ."

"And knocked the other down?"

"Yes; and so that he'll never get up again."

"The boy must be a good boxer."

"He had a sword."

"So much the better for him."

"No, so much the worse; for his victim was an Egyptian."

"That's a bad job. I fear it can only have an unfortunate end. A
foreigner, who kills an Egyptian, is as sure of death as if he had the
rope already round his neck. However, just now he'll get a few days'
grace; the priests are all so busy praying for the dying king that they
have no time to try criminals."

"I'd give a great deal to be able to save that poor fellow. I know his
father."

"Yes, and then after all he only did his duty. A man must defend
himself."

"Do you happen to know where he is imprisoned?"

"Of course I do. The great prison is under repair, and so he has been put
for the present in the storehouse between the principal guard-house of
the Egyptian body-guard and the sacred grove of the temple of Neith. I
have only just come home from seeing them take him there."

"He is strong and has plenty of courage; do you think he could get away,
if we helped him?"

"No, it would be quite impossible; he's in a room two stories high; the
only window looks into the sacred grove, and that, you know, is
surrounded by a ten-foot wall, and guarded like the treasury. There are
double sentries at every gate. There's only one place where it is left
unguarded during the inundation season, because, just here, the water
washes the walls. These worshippers of animals are as cautious as
water-wagtails."

"Well, it's a great pity, but I suppose we must leave the poor fellow to
his fate. Good-bye, Doemones; don't forget my invitation."

The Samian left the guard-room and went back directly to the two friends,
who were waiting impatiently for him.

They listened eagerly to his tidings, and when he had finished his
description of the prison, Darius exclaimed: "I believe a little courage
will save him. He's as nimble as a cat, and as strong as a bear. I have
thought of a plan."

"Let us hear it," said Syloson, "and let me give an opinion as to its
practicability."

"We will buy some rope-ladders, some cord, and a good bow, put all these
into our boat, and row to the unguarded part of the temple-wall at dusk.
You must then help me to clamber over it. I shall take the things over
with me and give the eagle's cry. Zopyras will know at once, because,
since we were children, we have been accustomed to use it when we were
riding or hunting together. Then I shall shoot an arrow, with the cord
fastened to it, up into his window, (I never miss), tell him to fasten a
weight to it and let it down again to me. I shall then secure the
rope-ladder to the cord, Zopyrus will draw the whole affair up again, and
hang it on an iron nail,--which, by the bye, I must not forget to send up
with the ladder, for who knows whether he may have such a thing in his
cell. He will then come down on it, go quickly with me to the part of the
wall where you will be waiting with the boat, and where there must be
another rope-ladder, spring into the boat, and there he is-safe!"

"First-rate, first-rate!" cried Bartja.

"But very dangerous," added Syloson. "If we are caught in the sacred
grove, we are certain to be severely punished. The priests hold strange
nightly festivals there, at which every one but the initiated is strictly
forbidden to appear. I believe, however, that these take place on the
lake, and that is at some distance from Zopyrus' prison."

"So much the better," cried Darius; "but now to the main point. We must
send at once, and ask Theopompus to hire a fast trireme for us, and have
it put in sailing order at once. The news of Cambyses' preparations have
already reached Egypt; they take us for spies, and will be sure not to
let either Zopyrus or his deliverers escape, if they can help it. It
would be a criminal rashness to expose ourselves uselessly to danger.
Bartja, you must take this message yourself, and must marry Sappho this
very day, for, come what may, we must leave Naukratis to-morrow. Don't
contradict me, my friend, my brother! You know our plan, and you must see
that as only one can act in it, your part would be that of a mere
looker-on. As it was my own idea I am determined to carry it out myself.
We shall meet again to-morrow, for Auramazda protects the friendship of
the pure."

It was a long time before they could persuade Bartja to leave his friends
in the lurch, but their entreaties and representations at last took
effect, and he went down towards the river to take a boat for Naukratis,
Darius and Syloson going at the same time to buy the necessary implements
for their plan.

In order to reach the place where boats were to be hired, Bartja had to
pass by the temple of Neith. This was not easy, as an immense crowd was
assembled at the entrance-gates. He pushed his way as far as the obelisks
near the great gate of the temple with its winged sun-disc and fluttering
pennons, but there the temple-servants prevented him from going farther;
they were keeping the avenue of sphinxes clear for a procession. The
gigantic doors of the Pylon opened, and Bartja, who, in spite of himself,
had been pushed into the front row, saw a brilliant procession come out
of the temple. The unexpected sight of many faces he had formerly known
occupied his attention so much, that he scarcely noticed the loss of his
broad-brimmed hat, which had been knocked off in the crowd. From the
conversation of two Ionian mercenaries behind him he learnt that the
family of Amasis had been to the temple to pray for the dying king.

The procession was headed by richly-decorated priests, either wearing
long white robes or pantherskins. They were followed by men holding
office at the court, and carrying golden staves, on the ends of which
peacocks' feathers and silver lotus-flowers were fastened, and these by
Pastophori, carrying on their shoulders a golden cow, the animal sacred
to Isis. When the crowd had bowed down before this sacred symbol, the
queen appeared. She was dressed in priestly robes and wore a costly
head-dress with the winged disc and the Uraeus. In her left hand she held
a sacred golden sistrum, the tones of which were to scare away Typhon,
and in her right some lotus-flowers. The wife, daughter and sister of the
high-priest followed her, in similar but less splendid ornaments. Then
came the heir to the throne, in rich robes of state, as priest and
prince; and behind him four young priests in white carrying Tachot, (the
daughter of Amasis and Ladice and the pretended sister of Nitetis,) in an
open litter. The heat of the day, and the earnestness of her prayers, had
given the sick girl a slight color. Her blue eyes, filled with tears,
were fixed on the sistrum which her weak, emaciated hands had hardly
strength to hold.

A murmur of compassion ran through the crowd; for they loved their dying
king, and manifested openly and gladly the sympathy so usually felt for
young lives from whom a brilliant future has been snatched by disease.
Such was Amasis' young, fading daughter, who was now being carried past
them, and many an eye grew dim as the beautiful invalid came in sight.
Tachot seemed to notice this, for she raised her eyes from the sistrum
and looked kindly and gratefully at the crowd. Suddenly the color left
her face, she turned deadly pale, and the golden sistrum fell on to the
stone pavement with a clang, close to Bartja's feet. He felt that he had
been recognized and for one moment thought of hiding himself in the
crowd; but only for one moment--his chivalrous feeling gained the day, he
darted forward, picked up the sistrum, and forgetting the danger in which
he was placing himself, held it out to the princess.

Tachot looked at him earnestly before taking the golden sistrum from his
hands, and then said, in a low voice, which only he could understand:
"Are you Bartja? Tell me, in your mother's name--are you Bartja?"

"Yes, I am," was his answer, in a voice as low as her own, "your friend,
Bartja."

He could not say more, for the priests pushed him back among the crowd.
When he was in his old place, he noticed that Tachot, whose bearers had
begun to move on again, was looking round at him. The color had come back
into her cheeks, and her bright eyes were trying to meet his. He did not
avoid them; she threw him a lotus-bud-he stooped to pick it up, and then
broke his way through the crowd, for this hasty act had roused their
attention.

A quarter of an hour later, he was seated in the boat which was to take
him to Sappho and to his wedding. He was quite at ease now about Zopyrus.
In Bartja's eyes his friend was already as good as saved, and in spite of
the dangers which threatened himself, he felt strangely calm and happy,
he could hardly say why.

Meanwhile the sick princess had been carried home, had had her oppressive
ornaments taken off, and her couch carried on to one of the
palace-balconies where she liked best to pass the hot summer days,
sheltered by broad-leaved plants, and a kind of awning.

From this veranda, she could look down into the great fore-court of the
palace, which was planted with trees. To-day it was full of priests,
courtiers, generals and governors of provinces. Anxiety and suspense were
expressed in every face: Amasis' last hour was drawing very near.

Tachot could not be seen from below; but listening with feverish
eagerness, she could hear much that was said. Now that they had to dread
the loss of their king, every one, even the priests, were full of his
praises. The wisdom and circumspection of his plans and modes of
government, his unwearied industry, the moderation he had always shown,
the keenness of his wit, were, each and all, subjects of admiration. "How
Egypt has prospered under Amasis' government!" said a Nomarch. "And what
glory he gained for our arms, by the conquest of Cyprus and the war with
the Libyans!" cried one of the generals. "How magnificently he
embellished our temples, and what great honors he paid to the goddess of
Sais!" exclaimed one of the singers of Neith. "And then how gracious and
condescending he was!" murmured a courtier. "How cleverly he managed to
keep peace with the great powers!" said the secretary of state, and the
treasurer, wiping away a tear, cried: "How thoroughly he understood the
management of the revenue! Since the reign of Rameses III. the treasury
has not been so well filled as now." "Psamtik comes into a fine
inheritance," lisped the courtier, and the soldier exclaimed, "Yes, but
it's to be feared that he'll not spend it in a glorious war; he's too
much under the influence of the priests." "No, you are wrong there,"
answered the temple-singer. "For some time past, our lord and master has
seemed to disdain the advice of his most faithful servants." "The
successor of such a father will find it difficult to secure universal
approbation," said the Nomarch. "It is not every one who has the
intellect, the good fortune and the wisdom of Amasis." "The gods know
that!" murmured the warrior with a sigh.

Tachot's tears flowed fast. These words were a confirmation of what they
had been trying to hide from her: she was to lose her dear father soon.

After she had made this dreadful certainty clear to her own mind, and
discovered that it was in vain to beg her attendants to carry her to her