She could do nothing.  There was no appeal against the king’s word.  He had distinctly commanded that no one save Nehushta, not even Atossa herself, was to be allowed to enter; he had placed the guards there himself the previous day, and had himself given the order.

For eleven days the door was barred; but Atossa did not again attempt to enter.  Darius would have visited roughly such an offence, and she knew how delicate her position was.  She resigned herself and occupied her mind with other things.  Daily, an hour before noon, Nehushta swept proudly through the gate, and disappeared among the roses and myrtles of the garden; and daily, precisely as the sun reached the meridian, the king went in between the spearmen, and disappeared in like manner.

Darius had grown so suddenly stern and cold in manner towards the queen, that she dared not even mention the subject of the garden to him, fearing a sadden outburst of his anger, which would surely put an end to her existence in the court, and very likely to her life.

As for Nehushta, she had plentiful cause for reflection and much time for dreaming.  If the days were not happy, they were at least made bearable for her by the absolute liberty she enjoyed.  The king would have given her slaves and jewels and rich gifts without end, had she been willing to accept them.  She said she had all she needed—­and she said it a little proudly; only the king’s visits grew to be the centre of the day, and each day the visit lengthened, till it came to be nearly evening when Darius issued from the gate.

She always waited for him in the eight-sided pavilion, and as their familiarity grew, the king would not even permit her to rise when he came, nor to use any of those forms of the court speech which were so distasteful to him.  He simply sat himself down beside her, and talked to her and listened to her answers, as though he were one of his own subjects, no more hampered by the cares and state of royalty than any soldier in the kingdom.

It was a week since Zoroaster had mounted to ride to Ecbatana, and Darius sat as usual upon the marble bench by the side of Nehushta, who rested among the cushions, talking now without constraint upon all matters that chanced to occur as subjects of conversation.  She thought Darius was more silent than usual, and his dark face was pale.  He seemed weary, as though from some great struggle, and presently Nehushta stopped speaking and waited to see whether the king would say anything.

During the silence nothing was heard saving the plash of the little fountain, and the low soft ripple of the tiny waves that rocked themselves against the edge of the basin.

“Do you know, Nehushta,” he said at last, in a weary voice, “that I am doing one of the worst actions of my life?”

Nehushta started, and the shadows in her face grew darker.

“Say rather the kindest action you ever did,” she murmured.