ou afraid for my life?"

"No."

"Then tell me, what you are afraid of."

"That Egyptian priest with whom I used to study the stars, once cast your
horoscope with me. He knew more about the heavens, than any man I ever
saw. I learnt a great deal from him, and I will not hide from you that
even then he drew my attention to dangers that threaten you now."

"And you did not tell me?"

"Why should I have made you uneasy beforehand? Now that your destiny is
drawing near, I warn you."

"Thank you,--I will be careful. In former times I should not have
listened to such a warning, but now that I love Sappho, I feel as if my
life were not so much my own to do what I like with, as it used to be."

"I understand this feeling . . ."

"You understand it? Then Araspes was right? You don't deny?"

"A mere dream without any hope of fulfilment."

"But what woman could refuse you?"

"Refuse!"

"I don't understand you. Do you mean to say that you--the boldest
sportsman, the strongest wrestler--the wisest of all the young
Persians--that you, Darius, are afraid of a woman?"

"Bartja, may I tell you more, than I would tell even to my own father?"

"Yes."

"I love the daughter of Cyrus, your sister and the king's, Atossa."

"Have I understood you rightly? you love Atossa? Be praised for this, O
ye pure Amescha cpenta! Now I shall never believe in your stars again,
for instead of the danger with which they threatened me, here comes an
unexpected happiness. Embrace me, my brother, and tell me the whole
story, that I may see whether I can help you to turn this hopeless dream,
as you call it, into a reality."

"You will remember that before our journey to Egypt, we went with the
entire court from Ecbatana to Susa. I was in command of the division of
the "Immortals" appointed to escort the carriages containing the king's
mother and sister, and his wives. In going through the narrow pass which
leads over the Orontes, the horses of your mother's carriage slipped. The
yoke to which the horses were harnessed broke from the pole, and the
heavy, four-wheeled carriage fell over the precipice without obstruction.

[There was a yoke at the end of the shaft of a Persian carriage,
which was fastened on to the backs of the horses and took the place
of our horse-collar and pole-chain.]

On seeing it disappear, we were horrified and spurred our horses to the
place as quickly as possible. We expected of course to see only fragments