While Hystaspes first, and then all the heads of the six other highest

families in Persia, were using their utmost efforts to bend this monster
weapon in vain, the king emptied goblet after goblet of wine, his spirits
rising as he watched their vain endeavors to solve the Ethiopian's
problem. At last Darius, who was famous for his skill in archery, took
the bow. Nearly the same result. The wood was inflexible as iron and all
his efforts only availed to move it one finger's breadth. The king gave
him a friendly nod in reward for his success, and then, looking round on
his friends and relations in a manner that betokened the most perfect
assurance, he said: "Give me the bow now, Darius. I will show you, that
there is only one man in Persia who deserves the name of king;--only one
who can venture to take the field against the Ethiopians;--only one who
can bend this bow."

He grasped it tightly with his left hand, taking the string, which was as
thick as a man's finger and made from the intestines of a lion, in his
right, fetched a deep breath, bent his mighty back and pulled and pulled;
collected all his strength for greater and greater efforts, strained his
sinews till they threatened to break, and the veins in his forehead were
swollen to bursting, did not even disdain to use his feet and legs, but
all in vain. After a quarter of an hour of almost superhuman exertion,
his strength gave way, the ebony, which he had succeeded in bending even
farther than Darius, flew back and set all his further endeavors at
nought. At last, feeling himself thoroughly exhausted, he dashed the bow
on to the ground in a passion, crying: "The Ethiopian is a liar! no
mortal man has ever bent that bow. What is impossible for my arm is
possible for no other. In three days we will start for Ethiopia. I will
challenge the impostor to a single combat, and ye shall see which is the
stronger. Take up the bow, Prexaspes, and keep it carefully. The black
liar shall be strangled with his own bow-string. This wood is really
harder than iron, and I confess that the man who could bend it, would
really be my master. I should not be ashamed to call him so, for he must
be of better stuff than I."

As he finished speaking, Bartja appeared in the circle of assembled
Persians. His glorious figure was set off to advantage by his rich dress,
his features were bright with happiness and a feeling of conscious
strength. He passed through the ranks of the Achaemenidae with many a
friendly nod, which was warmly returned, and going straight to his
brother, kissed his robe, looked up frankly and cheerfully into his
gloomy eyes, and said: "I am a little late, and ask your forgiveness, my
lord and brother. Or have I really come in time? Yes, yes, I see there's
no arrow in the target yet, so I am sure you, the best archer in the
world, cannot have tried your strength yet. But you look so enquiringly
at me. Then I will confess that our child kept me. The little creature
laughed to-day for the first time, and was so charming with its mother,
that I forgot how time was passing while I watched them. You have all
full leave to laugh at my folly; I really don't know how to excuse
myself. See, the little one has pulled my star from the chain. But I
think, my brother, you will give me a new one to-day if I should hit the
bull's eye. Shall I shoot first, or will you begin, my Sovereign?"

"Give him the bow, Prexaspes," said Cambyses, not even deigning to look
at his brother.

Bartja took it and was proceeding to examine the wood and the string,
when Cambyses suddenly called out, with a mocking laugh: "By Mithras, I
believe you want to try your sweet looks on the bow, and win its favor in
that fashion, as you do the hearts of men. Give it back to Prexaspes.
It's easier to play with beautiful women and laughing children, than with
a weapon like this, which mocks the strength even of real men."

Bartja blushed with anger and annoyance at this speech, which was uttered
in the bitterest tone, picked up the giant arrow that lay before him,
placed himself opposite the target, summoned all his strength, bent the
bow, by an almost superhuman effort, and sent the arrow into the very
centre of the target, where its iron point remained, while the wooden
shaft split into a hundred shivers.

[Herodotus tells this story (III, 30.), and we are indebted to him
also for our information of the events which follow. The following
inscription, said to have been placed over the grave of Darius, and
communicated by Onesikritus, (Strabo 730.) proves that the Persians
were very proud of being reputed good archers: "I was a friend to my
friends, the best rider and archer, a first-rate hunter; I could do
everything."]

Most of the Achaemenidae burst into loud shouts of delight at this
marvellous proof of strength; but Bartja's nearest friends turned pale
and were silent; they were watching the king, who literally quivered with
rage, and Bartja, who was radiant with pride and joy.

Cambyses was a fearful sight at that moment. It seemed to him as if that
arrow, in piercing the target, had pierced his own heart, his strength,
dignity and honor. Sparks floated before his eyes, in his ears was a
sound like the breaking of a stormy sea on the shore; his cheeks glowed
and he grasped the arm of Prexaspes who was at his side. Prexaspes only
too well understood what that pressure meant, when given by a royal hand,
and murmured: "Poor Bartja!"

At last the king succeeded in recovering his presence of mind. Without
saying a word, he threw a gold chain to his brother, ordered his nobles
to follow him, and left the garden, but only to wander restlessly up and
down his apartments, and try to drown his rage in wine. Suddenly he
seemed to have formed a resolution and ordered all the courtiers, except
Prexaspes, to leave the hall. When they were alone, he called out in a
hoarse voice and with a look that proved the extent of his intoxication:
"This life is not to be borne! Rid me of my enemy, and I will call you my
friend and benefactor."

Prexaspes trembled, threw himself at the king's feet and raised his hands
imploringly; but Cambyses was too intoxicated, and too much blinded by
his hatred to understand the action. He fancied the prostration was meant
as a sign of devotion to his will, signed to him to rise, and whispered,
as if afraid of hearing his own words: "Act quickly and secretly; and, as
you value your life, let no one know of the upstart's death. Depart, and
when your work is finished, take as much as you like out of the treasury.
But keep your wits about you. The boy has a strong arm and a winning
tongue. Think of your own wife and children, if he tries to win you over
with his smooth words."

As he spoke he emptied a fresh goblet of pure wine, staggered through the
door of the room, calling out as he turned his back on Prexaspes: "Woe be
to you if that upstart, that woman's hero, that fellow who has robbed me
of my honor, is left alive."

Long after he had left the hall, Prexaspes stood fixed on the spot where
he had heard these words. The man was ambitious, but neither mean nor
bad, and he felt crushed by the awful task allotted to him. He knew that
his refusal to execute it would bring death or disgrace on himself and on
his family; but he loved Bartja, and besides, his whole nature revolted
at the thought of becoming a common, hired murderer. A fearful struggle
began in his mind, and raged long after he left the palace. On the way
home he met Croesus and Darius. He fancied they would see from his looks
that he was already on the way to a great crime, and hid himself behind
the projecting gate of a large Egyptian house. As they passed, he heard
Croesus say: "I reproached him bitterly, little as he deserves reproach
in general, for having given such an inopportune proof of his great
strength. We may really thank the gods, that Cambyses did not lay violent
hands on him in a fit of passion. He has followed my advice now and gone
with his wife to Sais. For the next few days Bartja must not come near
the king; the mere sight of him might rouse his anger again, and a
monarch can always find unprincipled servants . . ."

The rest of the sentence died away in the distance, but the words he had
heard were enough to make Prexaspes start, as if Croesus had accused him
of the shameful deed. He resolved in that moment that, come what would,
his hands should not be stained with the blood of a friend. This
resolution restored him his old erect bearing and firm gait for the time,
but when he reached the dwelling which had been assigned as his abode in
Sais his two boys ran to the door to meet him. They had stolen away from
the play-ground of the sons of the Achaemenidae, (who, as was always the
case, had accompanied the king and the army), to see their father for a
moment. He felt a strange tenderness, which he could not explain to
himself, on taking them in his arms, and kissed the beautiful boys once
more on their telling him that they must go back to their play-ground
again, or they should be punished. Within, he found his favorite wife
playing with their youngest child, a sweet little girl. Again the same
strange, inexplicable feeling of tenderness. He overcame it this time for
fear of betraying his secret to his young wife, and retired to his own
apartment early.

Night had come on.

The sorely-tried man could not sleep; he turned restlessly from side to
side. The fearful thought, that his refusal to do the king's will would
be the ruin of his wife and children, stood before his wakeful eyes in
the most vivid colors. The strength to keep his good resolution forsook
him, and even Croesus' words, which, when he first heard them had given
his nobler feelings the victory, now came in as a power on the other
side. "A monarch can always find unprincipled servants." Yes, the words
were an affront, but at the same time a reminder, that though he might
defy the king's command a hundred others would be ready to obey it. No
sooner had this thought become clear to him, than he started up, examined
a number of daggers which hung, carefully arranged, above his bed, and
laid the sharpest on the little table before him.

He then began to pace the room in deep thought, often going to the
opening which served as a window, to cool his burning forehead and see if
dawn were near.

When at last daylight appeared, he heard the sounding brass calling the
boys to early prayer. That reminded him of his sons and he examined the
dagger a second time. A troop of gaily-dressed courtiers rode by on their
way to the king. He put the dagger in his girdle; and at last, on hearing
the merry laughter of his youngest child sound from the women's
apartments, he set the tiara hastily on his head, left the house without
taking leave of his wife, and, accompanied by a number of slaves, went
down to the Nile. There he threw himself into a boat and ordered the
rowers to take him to Sais.

.........................

A few hours after the fatal shooting-match, Bartja had followed Croesus'
advice and had gone off to Sais with his young wife. They found Rhodopis
there. She had yielded to an irresistible impulse and, instead of
returning to Naukratis, had stopped at Sais. Bartja's fall on stepping
ashore had disturbed her, and she had with her own eyes seen an owl fly
from the left side close by his head. These evil omens, to a heart which
had by no means outgrown the superstitions of the age, added to a
confused succession of distressing dreams which had disturbed her
slumbers, and her usual wish to be always near Bartja and Sappho, led her
to decide quickly on waiting for her granddaughter at Sais.

Bartja and Sappho were delighted to find such a welcome guest, and after
she had dandled and played with her great grandchild, the little Parmys,
to her heart's content, they led her to the rooms which had been prepared
for her.

[Herodotus states, that beside Atossa, &c.. Darius took a daughter
of the deceased Bartja, named Parmys, to be his wife. Herod. III.
88. She is also mentioned VII. 78.]

They were the same in which the unhappy Tachot had spent the last months
of her fading existence. Rhodopis could not see all the little trifles
which showed, not only the age and sex of the former occupant, but her
tastes and disposition, without feeling very sad. On the dressing-table
were a number of little ointment-boxes and small bottles for perfumes,
cosmetics, washes and oils. Two larger boxes, one in the form of a
Nile-goose, and another on the side of which a woman playing on a lute
had been painted, had once contained the princess's costly golden
ornaments, and the metal mirror with a handle in the form of a sleeping
maiden, had once reflected her beautiful face with its pale pink flush.
Everything in the room, from the elegant little couch resting on lions'
claws, to the delicately-carved ivory combs on the toilet-table, proved
that the outward adornments of life had possessed much charm for the
former owner of these rooms. The golden sisirum and the
delicately-wrought nabla, the strings of which had long ago been broken,
testified to her taste for music, while the broken spindle in the corner,
and some unfinished nets of glass beads shewed that she had been fond of
woman's usual work.

It was a sad pleasure to Rhodopis to examine all these things, and the
picture which she drew in her own mind of Tachot after the inspection,
differed very little from the reality. At last interest and curiosity led
her to a large painted chest. She lifted the light cover and found,
first, a few dried flowers; then a ball, round which some skilful hand
had wreathed roses and leaves, once fresh and bright, now, alas, long ago
dead and withered. Beside these were a number of amulets in different
forms, one representing the goddess of truth, another containing spells
written on a strip of papyrus and concealed in a little golden case. Then
her eyes fell on some letters written in the Greek character. She read
them by the light of the lamp. They were from Nitetis in Persia to her
supposed sister, and were written in ignorance of the latter's illness.
When Rhodopis laid them down her eyes were full of tears. The dead girl's
secret lay open before her. She knew now that Tachot had loved Bartja,
that he had given her the faded flowers, and that she had wreathed the
ball with roses because he had thrown it to her. The amulets must have
been intended either to heal her sick heart, or to awaken love in his.

As she was putting the letters back in their old place, she touched some
cloths which seemed put in to fill up the bottom of the chest, and felt a
hard round substance underneath. She raised them, and discovered a bust
made of colored wax, such a wonderfully-exact portrait of Nitetis, that
an involuntary exclamation of surprise broke from her, and it was long
before she could turn her eyes away from Theodorus' marvellous work.

She went to rest and fell asleep, thinking of the sad fate of Nitetis,
the Egyptian Princess.

The next morning Rhodopis went into the garden--the same into which we
led our readers during the lifetime of Amasis-and found Bartja and Sappho
in an arbor overgrown with vines.

Sappho was seated in a light wicker-work chair. Her child lay on her lap,
stretching out its little hands and feet, sometimes to its father, who
was kneeling on the ground before them, and then to its mother whose
laughing face was bent down over her little one.

Bartja was very happy with his child. When the little creature buried its
tiny fingers in his curls and beard, he would draw his head back to feel
the strength of the little hand, would kiss its rosy feet, its little
round white shoulders and dimpled arms. Sappho enjoyed the fun, always
trying to draw the little one's attention to its father.

Sometimes, when she stooped down to kiss the rosy baby lips, her forehead
would touch his curls and he would steal the kiss meant for the little
Parmys.

Rhodopis watched them a long time unperceived, and, with tears of joy in
her eyes, prayed the gods that they might long be as happy as they now
were. At last she came into the arbor to wish them good-morning, and
bestowed much praise on old Melitta for appearing at the right moment,
parasol in hand, to take her charge out of the sunshine before it became
too bright and hot, and put her to sleep.

The old slave had been appointed head-nurse to the high-born child, and
acquitted herself in her new office with an amount of importance which
was very comical. Hiding her old limbs under rich Persian robes, she
moved about exulting in the new and delightful right to command, and kept
her inferiors in perpetual motion.

Sappho followed Melitta into the palace, first whispering in her
husband's ear with her arm round his neck: "Tell my grandmother
everything and ask whether you are right."

Before he could answer, she had stopped his mouth with a kiss, and then
hurried after the old woman who was departing with dignified steps.

The prince smiled as he watched her graceful walk and beautiful figure,
and said, turning to Rhodopis: "Does not it strike you, that she has
grown taller lately."

"It seems so," answered Rhodopis. "A woman's girlhood has its own
peculiar charm, but her true dignity comes with motherhood. It is the
feeling of having fulfilled her destiny, which raises her head and makes
us fancy she has grown taller."

"Yes," said Bartja, "I think she is happy. Yesterday our opinions
differed for the first time, and as she was leaving us just now, she
begged me, privately, to lay the question before you, which I am very
glad to do, for I honor your experience and wisdom just as much, as I
love her childlike inexperience."

Bartja then told the story of the unfortunate shooting-match, finishing
with these words: "Croesus blames my imprudence, but I know my brother; I
know that when he is angry he is capable of any act of violence, and it
is not impossible that at the moment when he felt himself defeated he
could have killed me; but I know too, that when his fierce passion has
cooled, he will forget my boastful deed, and only try to excel me by
others of the same kind. A year ago he was by far the best marksman in
Persia, and would be so still, if drink and epilepsy had not undermined
his strength. I must confess I feel as if I were becoming stronger every
day."

"Yes," interrupted Rhodopis, "pure happiness strengthens a man's arm,
just as it adds to the beauty of a woman, while intemperance and mental
distress ruin both body and mind far more surely even than old age. My
son, beware of your brother; his strong arm has become paralyzed, and his
generosity can be forfeited too. Trust my experience, that the man who is
the slave of one evil passion, is very seldom master of the rest; besides
which, no one feels humiliation so bitterly as he who is sinking--who
knows that his powers are forsaking him. I say again, beware of your
brother, and trust the voice of experience more than that of your own
heart, which, because it is generous itself, believes every one else to
be so."

"I see," said Bartja, "that you will take Sappho's side. Difficult as it
will be for her to part from you, she has still begged me to return with
her to Persia. She thinks that Cambyses may forget his anger, when I am
out of sight. I thought she was over-anxious, and besides, it would
disappoint me not to take part in the expedition against the Ethiopians."

"But I entreat you," interrupted Rhodopis, "to follow her advice. The
gods only know what pain it will give me to lose you both, and yet I
repeat a thousand times: Go back to Persia, and remember that none but
fools stake life and happiness to no purpose. As to the war with
Ethiopia, it is mere madness; instead of subduing those black inhabitants
of the south, you yourselves will be conquered by heat, thirst and all
the horrors of the desert. In saying this I refer to the campaigns in
general; as to your own share in them, I can only say that if no fame is
to be won there, you will be putting your own life and the happiness of
your family in jeopardy literally for nothing, and that if, on the other
hand, you should distinguish yourself again, it would only be giving
fresh cause of jealousy and anger to your brother. No, go to Persia, as
soon as you can."

Bartja was just beginning to make various objections to these arguments,
when he caught sight of Prexaspes coming up to them, looking very pale.

After the usual greeting, the envoy whispered to Bartja, that he should
like to speak with him alone. Rhodopis left them at once, and he began,
playing with the rings on his right hand as he spoke, in a constrained,
embarrassed way. "I come from the king. Your display of strength
irritated him yesterday, and he does not wish to see you again for some
time. His orders are, that you set out for Arabia to buy up all the
camels that are to be had.

[Camels are never represented on the Egyptian monuments, whereas
they were in great use among the Arabians and Persians, and are now
a necessity on the Nile. They must have existed in Egypt, however.
Hekekyan-Bey discovered the bones of a dromedary in a deep bore.
Representations of these creatures were probably forbid We know this
was the case with the cock, of which bird there were large numbers
in Egypt: It is remarkable, that camels were not introduced into
Barbary until after the birth of Christ.]

"As these animals can bear thirst very long, they are to be used in
conveying food and water for our army on the Ethiopian campaign. There
must be no delay. Take leave of your wife, and (I speak by the king's
command) be ready to start before dark. You will be absent at least a
month. I am to accompany you as far as Pelusium. Kassandane wishes to
have your wife and child near her during your absence. Send them to
Memphis as soon as possible; under the protection of the queen mother,
they will be in safety."

Prexaspes' short, constrained way of speaking did not strike Bartja. He
rejoiced at what seemed to him great moderation on the part of his
brother, and at receiving a commission which relieved him of all doubt on
the question of leaving Egypt, gave his friend, (as he supposed him to
be), his hand to kiss and an invitation to follow him into the palace.

In the cool of the evening, he took a short but very affectionate
farewell of Sappho and his child, who was asleep in Melitta's arms, told
his wife to set out as soon as possible on her journey to Kassandane,
called out jestingly to his mother-in-law, that at least this time she
had been mistaken in her judgment of a man's character, (meaning his
brother's), and sprang on to his horse.

As Prexaspes was mounting, Sappho whispered to him, "Take care of that
reckless fellow, and remind him of me and his child, when you see him
running into unnecessary danger."

"I shall have to leave him at Pelusium," answered the envoy, busying
himself with the bridle of his horse in order to avoid meeting her eyes.

"Then may the gods take him into their keeping!" exclaimed Sappho,
clasping her husband's hand, and bursting into tears, which she could not
keep back. Bartja looked down and saw his usually trustful wife in tears.
He felt sadder than he had ever felt before. Stooping down lovingly from
his saddle, he put his strong arm round her waist, lifted her up to him,
and as she stood supporting herself on his foot in the stirrup, pressed
her to his heart, as if for a long last farewell. He then let her safely
and gently to the ground, took his child up to him on the saddle, kissed
and fondled the little creature, and told her laughingly to make her
mother very happy while he was away, exchanged some warm words of
farewell with Rhodopis, and then, spurring his horse till the creature
reared, dashed through the gateway of the Pharaohs' palace, with
Prexaspes at his side.

When the sound of the horses' hoofs had died away in the distance, Sappho
laid her head on her grandmother's shoulder and wept uncontrollably.
Rhodopis remonstrated and blamed, but all in vain, she could not stop her
tears.




CHAPTER XV.

On the morning after the trial of the bow, Cambyses was seized by such a
violent attack of his old illness, that he was forced to keep his room
for two days and nights, ill in mind and body; at times raging like a
madman, at others weak and powerless as a little child.

On the third day he recovered consciousness and remembered the awful
charge he had laid on Prexaspes, and that it was only too possible he
might have executed it already. At this thought he trembled, as he had
never trembled in his life before. He sent at once for the envoy's eldest
son, who was one of the royal cup-bearers. The boy said his father had
left Memphis, without taking leave of his family. He then sent for
Darius, Zopyrus and Gyges, knowing how tenderly they loved Bartja, and
enquired after their friend. On hearing from them that he was at Sais, he
sent the three youths thither at once, charging them, if they met
Prexaspes on the way, to send him back to Memphis without delay. This
haste and the king's strange behavior were quite incomprehensible to the
young Achaemenidae; nevertheless they set out on their journey with all
speed, fearing that something must be wrong.

Cambyses, meanwhile, was miserably restless, inwardly cursed his habit of
drinking and tasted no wine the whole of that clay. Seeing his mother in
the palace-gardens, he avoided her; he durst not meet her eye.

The next eight days passed without any sign of Prexaspes' return; they
seemed to the king like a year. A hundred times he sent for the young
cup-bearer and asked if his father had returned; a hundred times he
received the same disappointing answer.

At sunset on the thirteenth day, Kassandane sent to beg a visit from him.
The king went at once, for now he longed to look on the face of his
mother; he fancied it might give him back his lost sleep.

After he had greeted her with a tenderness so rare from him, that it
astonished her, he asked for what reason she had desired his presence.
She answered, that Bartja's wife had arrived at Memphis under singular
circumstances and had said she wished to present a gift to Cambyses. He
gave Sappho an audience at once, and heard from her that Prexaspes had
brought her husband an order to start for Arabia, and herself a summons
to Memphis from the queen-mother. At these words the king turned very
pale, and his features were agitated with pain as he looked at his
brother's lovely young wife. She felt that something unusual was passing
in his mind, and such dreadful forebodings arose in her own, that she
could only offer him the gift in silence and with trembling hands.

"My husband sends you this," she said, pointing to the
ingeniously-wrought box, which contained the wax likeness of Nitetis.
Rhodopis had advised her to take this to the king in Bartja's name, as a
propitiatory offering.

Cambyses showed no curiosity as to the contents of the box, gave it in
charge to a eunuch, said a few words which seemed meant as thanks to his
sister-in law, and left the women's apartments without even so much as
enquiring after Atossa, whose existence he seemed to have forgotten.

He had come to his mother, believing that the visit would comfort and
calm his troubled mind, but Sappho's words had destroyed his last hope,
and with that his last possibility of rest or peace. By this time either
Prexaspes would already have committed the murder, or perhaps at that
very moment might be raising his dagger to plunge it into Bartja's heart.

How could he ever meet his mother again after Bartja's death? how could
he answer her questions or those of that lovely Sappho, whose large,
anxious, appealing eyes had touched him so strangely?

A voice within told him, that his brother's murder would be branded as a
cowardly, unnatural, and unjust deed, and he shuddered at the thought. It
seemed fearful, unbearable, to be called an assassin. He had already
caused the death of many a man without the least compunction, but that
had been done either in fair fight, or openly before the world. He was
king, and what the king did was right. Had he killed Bartja with his own
hand, his conscience would not have reproached him; but to have had him
privately put out of the way, after he had given so many proofs of
possessing first-rate manly qualities, which deserved the highest
praise--this tortured him with a feeling of rage at his own want of
principle,-a feeling of shame and remorse which he had never known
before. He began to despise himself. The consciousness of having acted,
and wished to act justly, forsook him, and he began to fancy, that every
one who had been executed by his orders, had been, like Bartja, an
innocent victim of his fierce anger. These thoughts became so
intolerable, that he began to drink once more in the hope of drowning
them. But now the wine had precisely the opposite effect, and brought
such tormenting thoughts, that, worn out as he was already by epileptic
fits and his habit of drinking, both body and mind threatened to give way
to the agitation caused by the events of the last months. Burning and
shivering by turns, he was at last forced to lie down. While the
attendants were disrobing him, he remembered his brother's present, had
the box fetched and opened, and then desired to be left alone. The
Egyptian paintings on the outside of the box reminded him of Nitetis, and
then he asked himself what she would have said to his deed. Fever had
already begun, and his mind was wandering as he took the beautiful wax
bust out of the box. He stared in horror at the dull, immovable eyes. The
likeness was so perfect, and his judgment so weakened by wine and fever,
that he fancied himself the victim of some spell, and yet could not turn
his eyes from those dear features. Suddenly the eyes seemed to move. He
was seized with terror, and, in a kind of convulsion, hurled what he
thought had become a living head against the wall. The hollow, brittle
wax broke into a thousand fragments, and Cambyses sank back on to his bed
with a groan.

From that moment the fever increased. In his delirium the banished Phanes
appeared, singing a scornful Greek song and deriding him in such infamous
words, that his fists clenched with rage. Then he saw his friend and
adviser, Croesus, threatening him in the very same words of warning,
which he had used when Bartja had been sentenced to death by his command
on account of Nitetis: "Beware of shedding a brother's blood; the smoke
thereof will rise to heaven and become a cloud, that must darken the days
of the murderer, and at last cast down the lightnings of heaven upon his
head."

And in his delirious fancy this figure of speech became a reality. A rain
of blood streamed down upon him from dark clouds; his clothes and hands
were wet with the loathsome moisture. He went down to the Nile to cleanse
himself, and suddenly saw Nitetis coming towards him. She had the same
sweet smile with which Theodorus had modelled her. Enchanted with this
lovely vision, he fell down before her and took her hand, but he had
scarcely touched it, when drops of blood appeared at the tips of her
delicate fingers, and she turned away from him with every sign of horror.
He humbly implored her to forgive him and come back; she remained
inexorable. He grew angry, and threatened her, first with his wrath, and
then with awful punishments. At last, as she only answered his threats by
a low scornful laugh, he ventured to throw his dagger at her. She
crumbled at once into a thousand pieces, like the wax statue. But the
derisive laughter echoed on, and became louder. Many voices joined in it,
each trying to outbid the other. And the voices of Bartja and Nitetis
were the loudest,--their tone the most bitter. At last he could bear
these fearful sounds no longer and stopped his ears; this was of no use,
and he buried his head, first in the glowing desert-sand and then in the
icy cold Nile-water, until his senses forsook him. On awaking, the actual
state of things seemed incomprehensible to him. He had gone to bed in the
evening, and yet he now saw, by the direction of the sun's rays which
fell on his bed, that, instead of dawning as he had expected, the day was
growing dark. There could be no mistake; he heard the chorus of priests
singing farewell to the setting Mithras.

Then he heard a number of people moving behind a curtain, which had been
hung up at the head of his bed. He tried to turn in his bed, but could
not; he was too weak. At last, finding it impossible to discover whether
he was in real life or still in a dream, he called for his dressers and
the courtiers, who were accustomed to be present when he rose. They
appeared in a moment, and with them his mother, Prexaspes, a number of
the learned among the Magi, and some Egyptians who were unknown to him.
They told him, that he had been lying in a violent fever for weeks, and
had only escaped death by the special mercy of the gods, the skill of the
physicians, and the unwearied nursing of his mother. He looked
enquiringly first at Kassandane, then at Prexaspes, lost consciousness
again, and fell into a deep sleep, from which he awoke the next morning
with renewed strength.

In four days he was strong enough to sit up and able to question
Prexaspes on the only subject, which occupied his thoughts.

In consideration of his master's weakness the envoy was beginning an
evasive reply, when a threatening movement of the king's gaunt, worn
hand, and a look which had by no means lost its old power of awing into
submission, brought him to the point at once, and in the hope of giving
the king a great pleasure and putting his mind completely at rest, he
began: "Rejoice, O King! the youth, who dared to desire the disparagement
of thy glory, is no more. This hand slew him and buried his body at
Baal-Zephon. The sand of the desert and the unfruitful waves of the Red
Sea were the only witnesses of the deed; and no creature knows thereof
beside thyself, O King, thy servant Prexaspes, and the gulls and
cormorants, that hover over his grave."

The king uttered a piercing shriek of rage, was seized by a fresh
shivering-fit, and sank back once more in raving delirium.

Long weeks passed, every day of which threatened its death. At last,
however, his strong constitution gained the day, but his mind had given
way, and remained disordered and weak up to his last hour.

When he was strong enough to leave the sick-room and to ride and shoot
once more, he abandoned himself more than ever to the pleasure of
drinking, and lost every remnant of self-control.

The delusion had fixed itself in his disordered mind, that Bartja was not
dead, but transformed into the bow of the King of Ethiopia, and that the
Feruer (soul) of his father Cyrus had commanded him to restore Bartja to
its original form, by subjugating the black nation.

This idea, which he confided to every one about him as a great secret,
pursued him day and night and gave him no rest, until he had started for
Ethiopia with an immense host. He was forced, however, to return without
having accomplished his object, after having miserably lost the greater
part of his army by heat and the scarcity of provisions. An historian,
who may almost be spoken of as contemporary, tells us that the wretched
soldiers, after having subsisted on herbs as long as they could, came to
deserts where there was no sign of vegetation, and in their despair
resorted to an expedient almost too fearful to describe. Lots were drawn
by every ten men, and he on whom the lot fell was killed and eaten by the
other nine.

[Herodotus visited Egypt some 60 years after the death of Cambyses,
454 B.C. He describes the Ethiopian campaign, III. 25.]

At last things went so far, that his subjects compelled this madman to
return, but only, with their slavish Asiatic feelings, to obey him all
the more blindly, when they found themselves once more in inhabited
regions.

On reaching Memphis with the wreck of his army, he found the Egyptians in
glorious apparel celebrating a festival. They had found a new Apis and
were rejoicing over the reappearance of their god, incarnate in the
sacred bull.

As Cambyses had heard at Thebes, that the army he had sent against the
oasis of Ammon in the Libyan desert, had perished miserably in a Khamsin,
or Simoom, and that his fleet, which was to conquer Carthage, had refused
to fight with a people of their own race, he fancied that the Memphians
must be celebrating a festival of joy at the news of his misfortunes,
sent for their principal men, and after reproaching them with their
conduct, asked why they had been gloomy and morose after his victories,
but joyous at hearing of his misfortunes. The Memphians answered by
explaining the real ground for their merry-making, and told him, that the
appearance of the sacred bull was always celebrated in Egypt with the
greatest rejoicings. Cambyses called them liars, and, as such, sentenced
them to death. He then sent for the priests; received, however, exactly
the same answer from them.

With the bitterest irony he asked to be allowed to make the acquaintance
of this new god, and commanded them to bring him. The bull Apis was
brought and the king told that he was the progeny of a virgin cow and a
moonbeam, that he must be black, with a white triangular spot on the
forehead, the likeness of an eagle on his back, and on his side the
crescent moon. There must be two kinds of hair on his tail, and on his
tongue an excrescence in the form of the sacred beetle Scarabaeus.

When Cambyses saw this deified creature he could discover nothing
remarkable in him, and was so enraged that he plunged his sword into its
side. As the blood streamed from the wound and the animal fell, he broke
out into a piercing laugh, and cried: "Ye fools! so your gods are flesh
and blood; they can be wounded. Such folly is worthy of you. But ye shall
find, that it is not so easy to make a fool of me. Ho, guards! flog these
priests soundly, and kill every one whom you find taking part in this mad
celebration." The command was obeyed and fearfully exasperated the
Egyptians.

[According to Herod. III. 29. Cambyses' sword slipped and ran into
the leg of the sacred bull. As the king died also of a wound in the
thigh, this just suits Herodotus, who always tries to put the
retribution that comes after presumptuous crime in the strongest
light; but it is very unlikely that the bull should have died of a
mere thigh wound.]

Apis died of his wound; the Memphians buried him secretly in the vaults
belonging to the sacred bulls, near the Serapeum, and, led by Psamtik,
attempted an insurrection against the Persians. This was very quickly put
down, however, and cost Psamtik his life,--a life the stains and
severities of which deserve to be forgiven, in consideration of his
unwearied, ceaseless efforts to deliver his people from a foreign yoke,
and his death in the cause of freedom.

Cambyses' madness had meanwhile taken fresh forms. After the failure of
his attempt to restore Bartja, (transformed as he fancied into a bow) to
his original shape, his irritability increased so frightfully that a
single word, or even a look, was sufficient to make him furious. Still
his true friend and counsellor, Croesus, never left him, though the king
had more than once given him over to the guards for execution. But the
guards knew their master; they took good care not to lay hands on the old
man, and felt sure of impunity, as the king would either have forgotten
his command, or repented of it by the next day, Once, however, the
miserable whip bearers paid a fearful penalty for their lenity. Cambyses,
while rejoicing that Croesus was saved, ordered his deliverers to be
executed for disobedience without mercy.

It would be repugnant to us to repeat all the tales of barbarous
cruelties, which are told of Cambyses at this insane period of his life;
but we cannot resist mentioning a few which seem to us especially
characteristic.

While sitting at table one day, already somewhat intoxicated, he asked
Prexaspes what the Persians thought of him. The envoy, who in hopes of
deadening his tormenting conscience by the performance of noble and
dangerous acts, let no opportunity pass of trying to exercise a good
influence over his sovereign, answered that they extolled him on every
point, but thought he was too much addicted to wine.

These words, though spoken half in jest, put the king into a violent
passion, and he almost shrieked: "So the Persians say, that the wine has
taken away my senses, do they? on the contrary, I'll show them that
they've lost their own." And as he spoke he bent his bow, took aim for a
moment at Prexaspes' eldest son, who, as cup-bearer, was standing at the
back of the hall waiting for and watching every look of his sovereign,
and shot him in the breast. He then gave orders that the boy's body
should be opened and examined. The arrow had pierced the centre of his
heart. This delighted the senseless tyrant, and he called out with a
laugh: "Now you see, Prexaspes, it's the Persians who have lost their
judgment, not I. Could any one have hit the mark better?"

Prexaspes stood there, pale and motionless, compelled to watch the horrid
scene, like Niobe when chained to Sipylus. His servile spirit bowed
before the ruler's power, instead of arming his right hand with the