“Be welcome here!” exclaimed the blind queen, feeling her way to the young girl’s head, on which she laid her hand, “I have heard much in your praise, and hope to gain in you a dear and loving daughter.”

Nitetis kissed the gentle, delicate hand again, saying in a low voice:  “O how I thank you for these words!  Will you, the wife of the great Cyrus, permit me to call you mother?  My tongue has been so long accustomed to this sweet word; and now after long weeks of silence, I tremble with joy at the thought that I may say ‘my mother’ once more!  I will indeed try to deserve your love and kindness; and you—­you will be to me all that your loving countenance seems to promise?  Advise and teach me; let me find a refuge at your feet, if sometimes the longing for home becomes too strong, and my poor heart too weak to bear its grief or joy alone.  Oh, be my mother! that one word includes all else!”

The blind queen felt the warm tears fall on her hand; she pressed her lips kindly on the weeping girl’s forehead, and answered:  “I can understand your feelings.  My apartments shall be always open to you, my heart ready to welcome you here.  Come when you will, and call me your mother with the same perfect confidence with which I, from my whole heart, name you my daughter.  In a few months you will be my son’s wife, and then the gods may grant you that gift, which, by implanting within you the feelings of a mother, will prevent you from feeling the need of one.”

“May Ormuszd hear and give his blessing!” said Cambyses.  “I rejoice, mother, that my wife pleases you, and I know that when once she becomes familiar with our manners and customs she will be happy here.  If Nitetis pay due heed, our marriage can be celebrated in four months.”

“But the law—­” began his mother.

“I command—­in four months, and should like to see him who dare raise an objection.  Farewell!  Nebenchari, use your best skill for the queen’s eyes, and if my wife permit, you, as her countryman, may visit her to-morrow.  Farewell!  Bartja sends his parting greetings.  He is on the road to the Tapuri.”

Atossa wiped away a tear in silence, but Kassandane answered:  “You would have done well to allow the boy to remain here a few months longer.  Your commander, Megabyzus, could have subdued that small nation alone.”

“Of that I have no doubt,” replied the king, “but Bartja desired an opportunity of distinguishing himself in the field; and for that reason I sent him.”

“Would he not gladly have waited until the war with the Massageta; where more glory might be gained?” asked the blind woman.

“Yes,” said Atossa, “and if he should fall in this war, you will have deprived him of the power of fulfilling his most sacred duty, of avenging the soul of our father!”

“Be silent!” cried Cambyses in an overbearing tone, “or I shall have to teach you what is becoming in women and children.  Bartja is on far too good terms with fortune to fall in the war.  He will live, I hope, to deserve the love which is now so freely flung into his lap like an alms.”