young
prince's handsome face so well, that some time later, when I was in
the workshop of the great sculptor Theodorus at Samos, I recognized his
features at once."

"Did you meet him at Samos?"

"No, but his features had made such a deep and faithful impression on
Theodorus' memory, that he used them to beautify the head of an Apollo,
which the Achaemenidae had ordered for the new temple of Delphi."

"Your tale begins, at least, incredibly enough. How is it possible to
copy features so exactly, when you have not got them before you?"

"I can only answer that Theodorus has really completed this
master-piece, and if you wish for a proof of his skill would gladly send
you a second likeness of..."

"I have no desire for it. Go on with your story."

"On my journey hither, which, thanks to your father's excellent
arrangements, I performed in an incredibly short time, changing horses
every sixteen or seventeen miles..."

"Who allowed you, a foreigner, to use the posthorses?"

"The pass drawn out for the son of Croesus, which came by chance into
my hands, when once, in order to save my life, he forced me to change
clothes with him."

"A Lydian can outwit a fox, and a Syrian a Lydian, but an Ionian is a
match for both," muttered the king, smiling for the first time; "Croesus
told me this story--poor Croesus!" and then the old gloomy expression
came over his face and he passed his hand across his forehead, as if
trying to smooth the lines of care away. The Athenian went on: "I met
with no hindrances on my journey till this morning at the first hour
after midnight, when I was detained by a strange occurrence."

The king began to listen more attentively, and reminded the Athenian,
who spoke Persian with difficulty, that there was no time to lose.

"We had reached the last station but one," continued he, "and hoped to
be in Babylon by sunrise. I was thinking over my past stirring life, and
was so haunted by the remembrance of evil deeds unrevenged that I
could not sleep; the old Egyptian at my side, however, slept and dreamt
peacefully enough, lulled by the monotonous tones of the harness bells,
the sound of the horses' hoofs and the murmur of the Euphrates. It was
a wonderfully still, beautiful night; the moon and stars were so
brilliant, that our road and the landscape were lighted up almost
with the brightness of day. For the last hour we had not seen a
single vehicle, foot-passenger, or horseman; we had heard that