“Let us walk upon the terrace,” she said, “it is cold to-night—­is not this the last night here?”

“Yes; to-morrow we must go hence upon our journey.  This is the last night.”

Nehushta drew closer to her lover as they paced the terrace together, and each wound one arm about the other.  For some minutes they walked in silence, each perhaps recalling the many meetings upon that very terrace since the first time their lips met in love under the ivory moonlight of the month Tammuz, more than a year ago.  At last Nehushta spoke.

“Know you this new king?” she asked.  “I saw him but for a few moments last year.  He was a young prince, but he is not fair.”

“A young prince with an old man’s head upon his shoulders,” answered Zoroaster.  “He is a year younger than I—­but I would not have his battles to fight; nor, if I had, would I have taken Atossa to be my wife.”

“Atossa?” repeated Nehushta.

“Yes.  The king has already married her—­she was the wife of Cambyses, and also of the false Smerdis, the Magian, whom Darius has slain.”

“Is she fair?  Have I not seen her?” asked Nehushta quickly.

“Indeed, you must have seen her at the court in Shushan, before we came to Ecbatana.  She was just married to Cambyses then, but he regarded her little, for he was ever oppressed with wine and feasting.  But you were a child then, and were mostly with the women of your house, and you may not have seen her.”

“Tell me—­had she not blue eyes and yellow hair?  Had she not a cruel face—­very cold?”

“Aye, it may be that she had a hard look.  I remember that her eyes were blue.  She was very unhappy; therefore she helped the Magian.  It was not she that betrayed him.”

“You pitied her even then, did you not?” asked Nehushta.

“Yes—­she deserved pity.”

“She will have her revenge now.  A woman with a face like hers loves revenge.”

“Then she will deserve pity no longer,” said Zoroaster, with a slight laugh.

“I hate her!” said the princess, between her teeth.

“Hate her?  How can you hate a woman you have never more than seen, and she has done you no evil in the world?”

“I am sure I shall hate her,” answered Nehushta.  “She is not at all beautiful—­only cold and white and cruel.  How could the Great King be so foolish as to marry her?”

“May he live for ever!  He marries whom he pleases.  But I pray you, do not begin by hating the queen overmuch.”

“Why not?  What have I to gain from the queen?” asked the princess.  “Am I not of royal blood as well as she?”

“That is true,” returned Zoroaster.  “Nevertheless there is a prudence for princesses as well as for other people.”

“I would not be afraid of the Great King himself with you beside me,” said Nehushta proudly.  “But I will be prudent to please you.  Only—­I am sure I shall hate her.”