n the dark-haired goddess spoke, in purer Greek than her
companion.

"And I, O Glaucon of Athens, would have you suffer me to kiss your feet.
For you have given my brother and my sister back to life." Then drawing
near she took his hand in hers, while the two smiling looked down on him.

Then at last he found tongue to speak. "O gracious Queens, for such you
are, forgive my roving wits. You speak of great service done. But wise
Zeus knoweth we are strangers--"

The golden goddess tossed her shining head and smiled,--still stroking with
her hand.

"Dear Glaucon, do you remember the Eastern lad you saved from the Spartans
at the Isthmus? Behold him! Recall the bracelet of turquoise,--my first
gratitude. Then again you saved me with my husband. For I am the woman you
bore through the surf at the island. I am Artazostra, wife of Mardonius,
and this is Roxana, his half-sister, whose mother was a princess in
Egypt."

Glaucon passed his fingers before his face, beckoning back the past.

"It is all far away and strange: the flight, the storm, the wreck, the
tossing spar, the battling through the surges. My head is weak. I cannot
picture it all."

"Do not try. Lie still. Grow strong and glad, and suffer us to teach you,"
commanded Artazostra.

"Where do I lie? We are not upon the rocky islet still?"

The ladies laughed, not mockingly but so sweetly he wished that they would
never cease.

"This is Sardis," spoke Roxana, bending over him; "you lie in the palace
of the satrap."

"And Athens--" he said, wandering.

"Is far away," said Artazostra, "with all its griefs and false friends and
foul remembrances. The friends about you here will never fail. Therefore
lie still and have peace."

"You know my story," cried he, now truly in amaze.

"Mardonius knows all that passes in Athens, in Sparta, in every city of
Hellas. Do not try to tell more. We weary you already. See--Amenhat comes
to bid us begone."

The curtains parted again. A dark man in a pure white robe, his face and
head smooth-shaven, approached the bed. He held out a broad gold cup, the
rim whereof glinted with agate and sardonyx. He had no Greek, but Roxana
took the cup from him and held it to Glaucon's lips.

"Drink," she commanded, and he was fain to obey. The Athenian felt the
heavily spiced liquor laying hold of him. His eyes closed, despite his
wish to gaze longer on the two beautiful women. He felt their hands
caressing his cheeks. The music grew