reputed good archers: "I was a friend to my
friends, the best rider and archer, a first-rate hunter; I could do
everything."]

Most of the Achaemenidae burst into loud shouts of delight at this
marvellous proof of strength; but Bartja's nearest friends turned pale
and were silent; they were watching the king, who literally quivered
with rage, and Bartja, who was radiant with pride and joy.

Cambyses was a fearful sight at that moment. It seemed to him as if that
arrow, in piercing the target, had pierced his own heart, his strength,
dignity and honor. Sparks floated before his eyes, in his ears was a
sound like the breaking of a stormy sea on the shore; his cheeks glowed
and he grasped the arm of Prexaspes who was at his side. Prexaspes only
too well understood what that pressure meant, when given by a royal
hand, and murmured: "Poor Bartja!"

At last the king succeeded in recovering his presence of mind. Without
saying a word, he threw a gold chain to his brother, ordered his nobles
to follow him, and left the garden, but only to wander restlessly up
and down his apartments, and try to drown his rage in wine. Suddenly he
seemed to have formed a resolution and ordered all the courtiers, except
Prexaspes, to leave the hall. When they were alone, he called out in a
hoarse voice and with a look that proved the extent of his intoxication:
"This life is not to be borne! Rid me of my enemy, and I will call you
my friend and benefactor."

Prexaspes trembled, threw himself at the king's feet and raised his
hands imploringly; but Cambyses was too intoxicated, and too much
blinded by his hatred to understand the action. He fancied the
prostration was meant as a sign of devotion to his will, signed to him
to rise, and whispered, as if afraid of hearing his own words: "Act
quickly and secretly; and, as you value your life, let no one know of
the upstart's death. Depart, and when your work is finished, take as
much as you like out of the treasury. But keep your wits about you. The
boy has a strong arm and a winning tongue. Think of your own wife and
children, if he tries to win you over with his smooth words."

As he spoke he emptied a fresh goblet of pure wine, staggered through
the door of the room, calling out as he turned his back on Prexaspes:
"Woe be to you if that upstart, that woman's hero, that fellow who has
robbed me of my honor, is left alive."

Long after he had left the hall, Prexaspes stood fixed on the s