“I will start to-morrow.”

“Then farewell.”

“If Auramazda should spare my life and I should return victorious, will you promise to grant me one favor?”

“Yes, I will.”

“Now, then, I feel confident of victory, even if I should have to stand with a thousand men against ten thousand of the enemy.”  Bartja’s eyes sparkled, he was thinking of Sappho.

“Well,” answered his brother, “I shall be very glad if your actions bear out these glowing words.  But stop; I have something more to say.  You are now twenty years of age; you must marry.  Roxana, daughter of the noble Hydarnes, is marriageable, and is said to be beautiful.  Her birth makes her a fitting bride for you.”

“Oh! brother, do not speak of marriage; I . . .”  “You must marry, for I have no children.”

“But you are still young; you will not remain childless.  Besides, I do not say that I will never marry.  Do not be angry, but just now, when I am to prove my courage, I would rather hear nothing about women.”

“Well, then, you must marry Roxana when you return from the North.  But I should advise you to take her with you to the field.  A Persian generally fights better if he knows that, beside his most precious treasures, he has a beautiful woman in his tent to defend.”

“Spare me this one command, my brother.  I conjure thee, by the soul of our father, not to inflict on me a wife of whom I know nothing, and never wish to know.  Give Roxana to Zopyrus, who is so fond of women, or to Darius or Bessus, who are related to her father Hydarnes.  I cannot love her, and should be miserable . . .”

Cambyses interrupted him with a laugh, exclaiming:  “Did you learn these notions in Egypt, where it is the custom to be contented with one wife?  In truth, I have long repented having sent a boy like you abroad.  I am not accustomed to bear contradiction, and shall listen to no excuses after the war.  This once I will allow you to go to the field without a wife.  I will not force you to do what, in your opinion, might endanger your valor.  But it seems to me that you have other and more secret reasons for refusing my brotherly proposal.  If that is the case, I am sorry for you.  However, for the present, you can depart, but after the war I will hear no remonstrances.  You know me.”

“Perhaps after the war I may ask for the very thing, which I am refusing now—­but never for Roxana!  It is just as unwise to try to make a man happy by force as it is wicked to compel him to be unhappy, and I thank you for granting my request.”

“Don’t try my powers of yielding too often!—­How happy you look!  I really believe you are in love with some one woman by whose side all the others have lost their charms.”

Bartja blushed to his temples, and seizing his brother’s hand, exclaimed:  “Ask no further now, accept my thanks once more, and farewell.  May I bid Nitetis farewell too, when I have taken leave of our mother and Atossa?”