eave 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 P