f the king's favor too. The
Massagetan envoys have gone home to-day; peace has been granted them
and. . . ."

While he was speaking the door was burst open and one of Kassandane's
eunuchs rushed into the room crying: "The Princess Nitetis is dying!
Follow me at once, there is not a moment to lose."

The physician made a parting sign to his confederate, and followed the
eunuch to the dying-bed of the royal bride.

ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

Blessings go as quickly as they come
Hast thou a wounded heart? touch it seldom
Nothing is perfectly certain in this world
Only two remedies for heart-sickness:--hope and patience
Remember, a lie and your death are one and the same
Scarcely be able to use so large a sum--Then abuse it
Whatever a man would do himself, he thinks others are capable of
When love has once taken firm hold of a man in riper years

AN EGYPTIAN PRINCESS.

By Georg Ebers

Volume 8.

CHAPTER VIII.

The sun was already trying to break a path for his rays through the thick
curtains, that closed the window of the sick-room, but Nebenchari had not
moved from the Egyptian girl's bedside. Sometimes he felt her pulse, or
spread sweet-scented ointments on her forehead or chest, and then he
would sit gazing dreamily into vacancy. Nitetis seemed to have sunk into
a deep sleep after an attack of convulsions. At the foot of her bed stood
six Persian doctors, murmuring incantations under the orders of
Nebenchari, whose superior science they acknowledged, and who was seated
at the bed's head.

Every time he felt the sick girl's pulse he shrugged his shoulders, and
the gesture was immediately imitated by his Persian colleagues. From time
to time the curtain was lifted and a lovely head appeared, whose
questioning blue eyes fixed at once on the physician, but were always
dismissed with the same melancholy shrug. It was Atossa. Twice she had
ventured into the room, stepping so lightly as hardly to touch the thick
carpet of Milesian wool, had stolen to her friend's bedside and lightly
kissed her forehead, on which the pearly dew of death was standing, but
each time a severe and reproving glance from Nebenchari had sent her back
again into the next room, where her mother Kassandane was lying, awaiting
the end.

Cambyses had left the sick-room at sunrise, on seeing that Nitetis had
fallen asleep; he flung himself on to his horse, and accompanied by
Phanes