d shutter and listened, for she
fancied she heard her own name.

"The Egyptian is still asleep." said Boges. "She must be much fatigued
by the journey. I see too that one of her windows is still firmly
closed."

"Then tell me quickly," said the Persian. "Do you really think that this
stranger's coming can injure me in any way?"

"Certainly, I do, my pretty one."

"But what leads you to suppose this?"

"She is only to obey the king's commands, not mine."

"Is that all?"

"No, my treasure. I know the king. I can read his features as the Magi
read the sacred books."

"Then we must ruin her."

"More easily said than done, my little bird."

"Leave me alone! you are insolent."

"Well, but nobody can see us, and you know you can do nothing without my
help."

"Very well then, I don't care. But tell me quickly what we can do."

"Thanks, my sweet Phaedime. Well, for the present we must be patient
and wait our time. That detestable hypocrite Croesus seems to have
established himself as protector of the Egyptian; when he is away, we
must set our snares."

The speakers were by this time at such a distance, that Nitetis could
not understand what they said. In silent indignation she closed the
shutter, and called her maidens to dress her. She knew her enemies
now--she knew that a thousand dangers surrounded her, and yet she felt
proud and happy, for was she not chosen to be the real wife of Cambyses?
Her own worth seemed clearer to her than ever before, from a comparison
with these miserable creatures, and a wonderful certainty of ultimate
victory stole into her heart, for Nitetis was a firm believer in the
magic power of virtue.

"What was that dreadful sound I heard so early?" she asked of her
principal waiting-woman, who was arranging her hair.

"Do you mean the sounding brass, lady?"

"Scarcely two hours ago I was awakened by a strange and frightful
sound."

"That was the sounding brass, lady. It is used to awaken the young sons
of the Persian nobles, who are brought up at the gate of the king. You
will soon become accustomed to it. We have long ceased even to hear it,
and indeed on great festivals, when it is not sounded, we awake from the
unaccustomed stillness. From the hanging-gardens you will be able to see
how the boys are taken to bathe every morning, whatever the weather may
be. The poor little ones are taken from their mothers when they are six
years old, to be brought up with the other boys of th