vision, and wished to hold it fast with all the powers of her mind.

Then Atossa called her by her name, impetuously and lovingly. She opened
her eyes again, and again she saw those loving looks that she fancied
had only been sent her in a dream. Yes, that was her own Atossa--this
her motherly friend, and there stood, not the angry king, but the man
she loved. And now his lips opened too, his stern, severe eyes rested on
her so beseechingly, and he said: "O Nitetis, awake! you must not--you
cannot possibly be guilty!" She moved her head gently with a look of
cheerful denial and a happy smile stole across her features, like a
breeze of early spring over fresh young roses.

"She is innocent! by Mithras, it is impossible that she can be guilty,"
cried the king again, and forgetful of the presence of others, he sank
on his knees.

A Persian physician came up and rubbed her forehead with a sweet-scented
oil, and Nebenchari approached, muttering spells, felt her pulse, shook
his head, and administered a potion from his portable medicine-chest.
This restored her to perfect consciousness; she raised herself with
difficulty into a sitting posture, returned the loving caresses of her
two friends, and then turning to Cambyses, asked: "How could you believe
such a thing of me, my King?" There was no reproach in her tone, but
deep sadness, and Cambyses answered softly, "Forgive me."

Kassandane's blind eyes expressed her gratitude for this
self-renunciation on the part of her son, and she said: "My daughter, I
need your forgiveness too."

"But I never once doubted you," cried Atossa, proudly and joyfully
kissing her friend's lips.

"Your letter to Bartja shook my faith in your innocence," added
Kassandane.

"And yet it was all so simple and natural," answered Nitetis. "Here, my
mother, take this letter from Egypt. Croesus will translate it for you.
It will explain all. Perhaps I was imprudent. Ask your mother to tell
you what you would wish to know, my King. Pray do not scorn my poor, ill
sister. When an Egyptian girl once loves, she cannot forget. But I feel
so frightened. The end must be near. The last hours have been so very,
very terrible. That horrible man, Boges, read me the fearful sentence
of death, and it was that which forced the poison into my hand. Ah, my
heart!"

And with these words she fell back into the arms of Kassandane.

Nebenchari rushed forward, and gave her some more drops, exclaiming: "I
thought s