eks painted, and that he
wore false curls after the fashion of the Medes in those days (for these
adornments, and the purple robes, the tunics, the necklaces, and the
bracelets, they are all Median first and last, not Persian; the Persian,
as you find him at home even now-a-days, still keeps to his
plainer dress and his plainer style of living.) The boy, seeing his
grandfather's splendour, kept his eyes fixed on him, and cried, "Oh,
mother, how beautiful my grandfather is!" Then his mother asked him
which he thought the handsomer, his father or his grandfather, and he
answered at once, "My father is the handsomest of all the Persians, but
my grandfather much the handsomest of all the Medes I ever set eyes on,
at home or abroad." [3] At that Astyages drew the child to his heart,
and gave him a beautiful robe and bracelets and necklaces in sign of
honour, and when he rode out, the boy must ride beside him on a horse
with a golden bridle, just like King Astyages himself. And Cyrus, who
had a soul as sensitive to beauty as to honour, was pleased with the
splendid robe, and overjoyed at learning to ride, for a horse is a rare
sight in Persia, a mountainous country, and one little suited to the
breed.

[4] Now Cyrus and his mother sat at meat with the king, and Astyages,
wishing the lad to enjoy the feast and not regret his home, plied him
with dainties of every sort. At that, so says the story, Cyrus burst
out, "Oh, grandfather, what trouble you must give yourself reaching for
all these dishes and tasting all these wonderful foods!" "Ah, but," said
Astyages, "is not this a far better meal than you ever had in Persia?"
Thereupon, as the tale runs, Cyrus answered, "Our way, grandfather, is
much shorter than yours, and much simpler. We are hungry and wish to be
fed, and bread and meat brings us where we want to be at once, but you
Medes, for all your haste, take so many turns and wind about so much it
is a wonder if you ever find your way to the goal that we have reached
long ago." [5] "Well, my lad," said his grandfather, "we are not at all
averse to the length of the road: taste the dishes for yourself and see
how good they are." "One thing I do see," the boy said, "and that is
that you do not quite like them yourself." And when Astyages asked him
how he felt so sure of that, Cyrus answered, "Because when you touch an
honest bit of bread you never wipe your hands, but if you take one of
these fine kickshaws you turn to your n