er you are right."

Before he could answer, she had stopped his mouth with a kiss, and then
hurried after the old woman who was departing with dignified steps.

The prince smiled as he watched her graceful walk and beautiful figure,
and said, turning to Rhodopis: "Does not it strike you, that she has
grown taller lately."

"It seems so," answered Rhodopis. "A woman's girlhood has its own
peculiar charm, but her true dignity comes with motherhood. It is the
feeling of having fulfilled her destiny, which raises her head and makes
us fancy she has grown taller."

"Yes," said Bartja, "I think she is happy. Yesterday our opinions
differed for the first time, and as she was leaving us just now, she
begged me, privately, to lay the question before you, which I am very
glad to do, for I honor your experience and wisdom just as much, as I
love her childlike inexperience."

Bartja then told the story of the unfortunate shooting-match, finishing
with these words: "Croesus blames my imprudence, but I know my brother;
I know that when he is angry he is capable of any act of violence, and
it is not impossible that at the moment when he felt himself defeated he
could have killed me; but I know too, that when his fierce passion has
cooled, he will forget my boastful deed, and only try to excel me by
others of the same kind. A year ago he was by far the best marksman in
Persia, and would be so still, if drink and epilepsy had not undermined
his strength. I must confess I feel as if I were becoming stronger every
day."

"Yes," interrupted Rhodopis, "pure happiness strengthens a man's arm,
just as it adds to the beauty of a woman, while intemperance and mental
distress ruin both body and mind far more surely even than old age. My
son, beware of your brother; his strong arm has become paralyzed, and
his generosity can be forfeited too. Trust my experience, that the man
who is the slave of one evil passion, is very seldom master of the
rest; besides which, no one feels humiliation so bitterly as he who
is sinking--who knows that his powers are forsaking him. I say again,
beware of your brother, and trust the voice of experience more than that
of your own heart, which, because it is generous itself, believes every
one else to be so."

"I see," said Bartja, "that you will take Sappho's side. Difficult as it
will be for her to part from you, she has still begged me to return with
her to Persia. She thinks that Cambyses may forget his a