“Yes, nearly all.”

“By Mithras, you must be a clever people!  Scarcely any of the Persians, except the Magi and the scribes, learn these difficult arts.  The sons of the nobles are taught to speak the truth, to be courageous, obedient, and to reverence the gods; to hunt, ride, plant trees and discern between herbs; but whoever, like the noble Darius, wishes to learn the art of writing, must apply to the Magi.  Women are forbidden to turn their minds to such studies.—­Now your dress is complete.  This string of pearls, which the king sent this morning, looks magnificent in your raven-black hair, but it is easy to see that you are not accustomed to the full silk trousers and high-heeled boots.  If, however, you walk two or three times up and down the room you will surpass all the Persian ladies even in your walk!”

At this moment a knock was heard and Boges entered.  He had come to conduct Nitetis to Kassandane’s apartments, where Cambyses was waiting for her.

The eunuch affected an abject humility, and poured forth a stream of flattering words, in which he likened the princess to the sun, the starry heavens, a pure fount of happiness, and a garden of roses.  Nitetis deigned him not a word in reply, but followed, with a beating heart, to the queen’s apartment.

In order to keep out the noonday sun and produce a salutary half-light for the blind queen’s eyes, her windows were shaded by curtains of green Indian silk.  The floor was covered with a thick Babylonian carpet, soft as moss under the foot.  The walls were faced with a mosaic of ivory, tortoise-shell, gold, silver, malachite, lapis-lazuli, ebony and amber.  The seats and couches were of gold covered with lions’ skins, and a table of silver stood by the side of the blind queen.  Kassandane was seated in a costly arm-chair.  She wore a robe of violet-blue, embroidered with silver, and over her snow-white hair lay a long veil of delicate lace, woven in Egypt, the ends of which were wound round her neck and tied in a large bow beneath her chin.  She was between sixty and seventy years old; her face, framed, as it were, into a picture by the lace veil, was exquisitely symmetrical in its form, intellectual, kind and benevolent in its expression.

The blind eyes were closed, but those who gazed on her felt that, if open, they would shine with the gentle light of stars.  Even when sitting, her attitude and height showed a tall and stately figure.  Indeed her entire appearance was worthy the widow of the great and good Cyrus.

On a low seat at her feet, drawing long threads from a golden spindle, sat the queen’s youngest child Atossa, born to her late in life.  Cambyses was standing before her, and behind, hardly visible in the dim light, Nebenchari, the Egyptian oculist.

As Nitetis entered, Cambyses came towards her and led her to his mother.  The daughter of Amasis fell on her knees before this venerable woman, and kissed her hand with real affection.