le they were talking, the sun rose and shone pleasantly into the
prisoners' room.

"Bartja," murmured Mithras, "means to make our parting difficult."

"No," answered Croesus, "he only means to light us kindly on our way
into eternity."

CHAPTER IV.

The innocent originator of all this complicated misery had passed many
a wretched hour since the birthday banquet. Since those harsh words with
which Cambyses had sent her from the hall, not the smallest fragment of
news had reached her concerning either her angry lover, or his mother
and sister. Not a day had passed since her arrival in Babylon, that had
not been spent with Kassandane and Atossa; but now, on her desiring to
be carried to them, that she might explain her strange conduct, her
new guard, Kandaules, forbade her abruptly to leave the house. She had
thought that a free and full account of the contents of her letter from
home, would clear up all these misunderstandings. She fancied she saw
Cambyses holding out his hand as if to ask forgiveness for his hastiness
and foolish jealousy. And then a joyful feeling stole into her mind
as she remembered a sentence she had once heard Ibykus say: "As fever
attacks a strong man more violently than one of weaker constitution; so
a heart that loves strongly and deeply can be far more awfully tormented
by jealousy, than one which has been only superficially seized by
passion."

If this great connoisseur in love were right, Cambyses must love her
passionately, or his jealousy could not have caught fire so quickly and
fearfully. Sad thoughts about her home, however, and dark forebodings
of the future would mix with this confidence in Cambyses' love, and she
could not shut them out. Mid-day came, the sun stood high and burning in
the sky, but no news came from those she loved so well; and a feverish
restlessness seized her which increased as night came on. In the
twilight Boges came to her, and told her, with bitter scorn, that her
letter to Bartja had come into the king's hands, and that the gardener's
boy who brought it had been executed. The tortured nerves of the
princess could not resist this fresh blow, and before Boges left, he
carried the poor girl senseless into her sleeping-room, the door of
which he barred carefully.

A few minutes later, two men, one old, the other young, came up through
the trap-door which Boges had examined so carefully two days before. The
old man remained outside, crouching against the