longer.  After passing the tables of the money-changers, and the stone
seats on which the citizens sat in the open air and held their
consultations, they arrived at the house of Theopompus.

The stroke given by their Greek guide with the metal knocker on the
house-door was answered at once by a slave.  As the master was at the
market, the strangers were led by the steward, an old servant grown grey
in the service of Theopompus, into the Andronitis, and begged to wait
there until he returned.

They were still engaged in admiring the paintings on the walls, and the
artistic carving of the stone floor, when Theopompus, the merchant whom
we first learnt to know at the house of Rhodopis, came back from the
market, followed by a great number of slaves bearing his purchases.

[Men of high rank among the Greeks did not disdain to make purchases
at market, accompanied by their slaves, but respectable women could
not appear there.  Female slaves were generally sent to buy what was
needed.]

He received the strangers with charming politeness and asked in what way
he could be of use to them, on which Bartja, having first convinced
himself that no unwished--for listeners were present, gave him the roll
he had received from Phanes at parting.

Theopompus had scarcely read its contents, when he made a low bow to the
prince, exclaiming: "By Zeus, the father of hospitality, this is the
greatest honor that could have been conferred upon my house!  All I
possess is yours, and I beg you to ask your companions to accept with
kindness what I can offer.  Pardon my not having recognized you at once
in your Lydian dress.  It seems to me that your hair is shorter and your
beard thicker, than when you left Egypt.  Am I right in imagining that
you do not wish to be recognized?  It shall be exactly as you wish.  He
is the best host, who allows his guests the most freedom.  All, now I
recognize your friends; but they have disguised themselves and cut their
curls also.  Indeed, I could almost say that you, my friend,
whose name--"

"My name is Darius."

"That you, Darius, have dyed your hair black.  Yes?  Then you see my
memory does not deceive me.  But that is nothing to boast of, for I saw
you several times at Sais, and here too, on your arrival and departure.
You ask, my prince, whether you would be generally recognized?  Certainly
not.  The foreign dress, the change in your hair and the coloring of your
eyebrows have altered you wonderfully.  But excuse me a moment, my old
steward seems to have some important message to give."

In a few minutes Theopompus came back, exclaiming: "No, no, my honored
friends, you have certainly not taken the wisest way of entering
Naukratis incognito.  You have been joking with the flower-girls and
paying them for a few roses, not like runaway Lydian Hekatontarchs, but
like the great lords you are.  All Naukratis knows the pretty, frivolous
sisters, Stephanion, Chloris and Irene, whose garlands have caught many a
heart, and whose sweet glances have lured many a bright obolus out of the
pockets of our gay young men.  They're very fond of visiting the flower-
girls at market-time, and agreements are entered into then for which more
than one gold piece must be paid later; but for a few roses and good
words they are not accustomed to be so liberal as you have been.  The
girls have been boasting about you and your gifts, and showing your good
red gold to their stingier suitors.  As rumor is a goddess who is very
apt to exaggerate and to make a crocodile out of a lizard, it happened
that news reached the Egyptian captain on guard at the market, that some
newly-arrived Lydian warriors had been scattering gold broadcast among
the flower-girls.  This excited suspicion, and induced the Toparch to
send an officer here to enquire from whence you come, and what is the
object of your journey hither.  I was obliged to use a little stratagem
to impose upon him, and told him, as I believe you wish, that you were
rich young men from Sardis, who had fled on account of having incurred
the satrap's ill-will.  But I see the government officer coming, and with
him the secretary who is to make out passports which will enable you to
remain on the Nile unmolested.  I have promised him a handsome reward, if
he can help you in getting admitted into the king's mercenaries.  He was
caught and believed my story.  You are so young, that nobody would
imagine you were entrusted with a secret mission."

The talkative Greek had scarcely finished speaking when the clerk, a
lean, dry-looking man, dressed in white, came in, placed himself opposite
the strangers and asked them from whence they came and what was the
object of their journey.

The youths held to their first assertion, that they were Lydian
Hekatontarchs, and begged the functionary to provide them with passes and
tell them in what way they might most easily obtain admittance into the
king's troop of auxiliaries.

The man did not hesitate long, after Theopompus had undertaken to be
their surety, and the desired documents were made out.

Bartja's pass ran thus:

"Smerdis, the son of Sandon of Sardis, about 22 years of age--figure,
tall and slender-face, well-formed:--nose, straight:--forehead, high with
a small scar in the middle:--is hereby permitted to remain in those parts
of Egypt in which the law allows foreigners to reside, as surety has been
given for him.
"In the King's name.
"Sachons, Clerk."

Darius and Zopyrus received passports similarly worded.

When the government official had left the houses, Theopompus rubbed his
hands and said: "Now if you will follow my advice on all points you can
stay in Egypt safely enough.  Keep these little rolls as if they were the
apple of your eye, and never part from them.  Now, however, I must beg
you to follow me to breakfast and to tell me, if agreeable to you,
whether a report which has just been making the round of the market is
not, as usual, entirely false.  A trireme from Kolophon, namely, has
brought the news that your powerful brother, noble Bartja, is preparing
to make war with Amasis."

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

On the evening of the same day, Bartja and Sappho saw each other again.
In that first hour surprise and joy together made Sappho's happiness too
great for words.  When they were once more seated in the acanthus-grove
whose blossoming branches had so often seen and sheltered their young
love, she embraced him tenderly, but for a long time they did not speak
one word.  They saw neither moon nor stars moving silently above them, in
the warm summer night; they did not even hear the nightingales who were
still repeating their favorite, flute-like, Itys-call to one another; nor
did they feel the dew which fell as heavily on their fair heads as on the
flowers in the grass around them.

At last Bartja, taking both Sappho's hands in his own, looked long and
silently into her face, as if to stamp her likeness for ever on his
memory.  When he spoke at last, she cast down her eyes, for he said:
"In my dreams, Sappho, you have always been the most lovely creature that
Auramazda ever created, but now I see you again, you are more lovely even
than my dreams."

And when a bright, happy glance from her had thanked him for these words,
he drew her closer to him, asking: "Did you often think of me?"

"I thought only of you."

"And did you hope to see me soon?"

"Yes; hour after hour I thought, 'now he must be coming.' Sometimes I
went into the garden in the morning and looked towards your home in the
East, and a bird flew towards me from thence and I felt a twitching in my
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 be 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