other fellow-sufferers. These former enemies rose up against me with
the most touching unanimity, and so overwhelmed me with revilings and
threats that I left the room. They closed their doors against me. The
next morning the lamentations of the evening before were continued. I
fled once more and went hunting with the king, and when I came back,
tired, hungry and half-frozen--for it was in spring, we were already at
Ecbatana, and the snow was lying an ell deep on the Orontes--there was
no fire on the hearth and nothing to eat. These noble creatures had
entered into an alliance in order to punish me, had put out the fire,
forbidden the cooks to do their duty and, which was worse than all--had
kept the jewels! No sooner had I ordered the slaves to make a fire and
prepare food, than the impudent jewel-dealer appeared and demanded
his money. I refused again, passed another solitary night, and in the
morning sacrificed ten talents for the sake of peace. Since that time
harmony and peace among my beloved wives seems to me as much to be
feared as the evil Divs themselves, and I see their little quarrels with
the greatest pleasure."

"Poor Zopyrus!" cried Bartja.

"Why poor?" asked this five-fold husband. "I tell you I am much happier
than you are. My wives are young and charming, and when they grow old,
what is to hinder me from taking others, still handsomer, and who,
by the side of the faded beauties, will be doubly charming. Ho!
slave--bring some lamps. The sun has gone down, and the wine loses all
its flavor when the table is not brightly lighted."

At this moment the voice of Darius, who had left the arbor and gone out
into the garden, was heard calling: "Come and hear how beautifully the
nightingale is singing."

"By Mithras, you son of Hystaspes, you must be in love," interrupted
Araspes. "The flowery darts of love must have entered the heart of him,
who leaves his wine to listen to the nightingale."

"You are right there, father," cried Bartja. "Philomel, as the Greeks
call our Gulgul, is the lovers' bird among all nations, for love has
given her her beautiful song. What beauty were you dreaming of, Darius,
when you went out to listen to the nightingale?"

"I was not dreaming of any," answered he. "You know how fond I am of
watching the stars, and the Tistar-star rose so splendidly to-night,
that I left the wine to watch it. The nightingales were singing so
loudly to one another, that if I had not wished to hear