Nearer and nearer came the cloud; and the red glow turned to purple and the sun went out of sight; and still it came nearer, that whirling cloud-canopy of fine powdered dust, rising to right and left of the road in vast round puffs, and hanging overhead like the smoke from some great moving fire.  Then, from beneath it, there seemed to come a distant roar like thunder, rising and falling on the silent air, but rising ever louder; and a dark gleam of polished bronze, with something more purple than the purple sunset, took shape slowly; then with the low roar of sound, came now and then, and then more often, the clank of harness and arms; till at last, the whole stamping, rushing, clanging crowd of galloping horsemen seemed to emerge suddenly from the dust in a thundering charge, the very earth shaking beneath their weight, and the whole air vibrating to the tremendous shock of pounding hoofs and the din of clashing brass.

A few lengths before the serried ranks rode one man alone,—­a square figure, wrapped in a cloak of deeper and richer purple than any worn by the ordinary nobles, sitting like a rock upon a great white horse.  As he came up, Zoroaster and his fourscore men threw up their hands.

“Hail, king of kings!  Hail, and live for ever!” they cried, and as one man, they prostrated themselves upon their faces on the grass by the roadside.

Darius drew rein suddenly, bringing his steed from his full gallop to his haunches in an instant.  After him the rushing riders threw up their right hands as a signal to those behind; and with a deafening concussion, as of the ocean breaking at once against a wall of rock, those matchless Persian horsemen halted in a body in the space of a few yards, their steeds plunging wildly, rearing to their height and struggling on the curb; but helpless to advance against the strong hands that held them.  The blossom and flower of all the Persian nobles rode there,—­their purple mantles flying with the wild motion, their bronze cuirasses black in the gathering twilight, their bearded faces dark and square beneath their gilded helmets.

“I am Darius, the king of kings, on whom ye call,” cried the king, whose steed now stood like a marble statue, immovable in the middle of the road.  “Rise, speak and fear nothing,—­unless ye speak lies.”

Zoroaster rose to his feet, then bent low, and taking a few grains of dust from the roadside, touched his mouth with his hand and let the dust fall upon his forehead.

“Hail, and live for ever!  I am thy servant, Zoroaster, who was captain over the fortress and treasury of Ecbatana.  According to thy word I have brought the kinsfolk of Jehoiakim, king of Judah,—­chief of whom is Nehushta, the princess.  I heard that thou wast absent from Shushan, and here I have waited for thy coming.  I also sent thee messengers to announce that Daniel, surnamed Belteshazzar, who was Satrap of Media from the time of Cambyses, is dead; and I have buried him fittingly in a new tomb in the garden of the palace of Ecbatana.”