that
nobody would imagine you were entrusted with a secret mission."

The talkative Greek had scarcely finished speaking when the clerk,
a lean, dry-looking man, dressed in white, came in, placed himself
opposite the strangers and asked them from whence they came and what was
the object of their journey.

The youths held to their first assertion, that they were Lydian
Hekatontarchs, and begged the functionary to provide them with passes
and tell them in what way they might most easily obtain admittance into
the king's troop of auxiliaries.

The man did not hesitate long, after Theopompus had undertaken to be
their surety, and the desired documents were made out.

Bartja's pass ran thus:

"Smerdis, the son of Sandon of Sardis, about 22 years of age--figure,
tall and slender-face, well-formed:--nose, straight:--forehead, high
with a small scar in the middle:--is hereby permitted to remain in those
parts of Egypt in which the law allows foreigners to reside, as surety
has been given for him.

"In the King's name.
"Sachons, Clerk."

Darius and Zopyrus received passports similarly worded.

When the government official had left the houses, Theopompus rubbed his
hands and said: "Now if you will follow my advice on all points you can
stay in Egypt safely enough. Keep these little rolls as if they were the
apple of your eye, and never part from them. Now, however, I must beg
you to follow me to breakfast and to tell me, if agreeable to you,
whether a report which has just been making the round of the market
is not, as usual, entirely false. A trireme from Kolophon, namely, has
brought the news that your powerful brother, noble Bartja, is preparing
to make war with Amasis."

.........................

On the evening of the same day, Bartja and Sappho saw each other again.
In that first hour surprise and joy together made Sappho's happiness too
great for words. When they were once more seated in the acanthus-grove
whose blossoming branches had so often seen and sheltered their young
love, she embraced him tenderly, but for a long time they did not speak
one word. They saw neither moon nor stars moving silently above them, in
the warm summer night; they did not even hear the nightingales who were
still repeating their favorite, flute-like, Itys-call to one another;
nor did they feel the dew which fell as heavily on their fair heads as
on the flowers in the grass around them.