“Oh, I shall write long, long letters, and charge every wind with loving messages for you.”

“Yes, do so, my darling; and as to the letters, give them to the messenger who will bring Nitetis tidings from Egypt from time to time.”

“Where shall I find him?”

“I will see that a man is stationed at Naukratis, to take charge of everything you send to him.  All this I will settle with Melitta.”

“Yes, we can trust her, she is prudent and faithful; but I have another friend, who is dearer to me than any one else excepting you, and who loves me too better than any one else does, but you—­”

“You mean your grandmother Rhodopis.”

“Yes, my faithful guardian and teacher.”

“Ah, she is a noble woman.  Croesus considers her the most excellent among women, and he has studied mankind as the physicians do plants and herbs.  He knows that rank poison lies hidden in some, in others healing cordials, and often says that Rhodopis is like a rose which, while fading away herself, and dropping leaf after leaf, continues to shed perfume and quickening balsam for the sick and weak, and awaits in patience the wind which at last shall waft her from us.”

“The gods grant that she may be with us for a long time yet!  Dearest, will you grant me one great favor?”

“It is granted before I hear it.”

“When you take me home, do not leave Rhodopis here.  She must come with us.  She is so kind and loves me so fervently, that what makes me happy will make her so too, and whatever is dear to me, will seem to her worthy of being loved.”

“She shall be the first among our guests.”

“Now I am quite happy and satisfied, for I am necessary to my grandmother; she could not live without her child.  I laugh her cares and sorrows away, and when she is singing to me, or teaching me how to guide the style, or strike the lute, a clearer light beams from her brow, the furrows ploughed by grief disappear, her gentle eyes laugh, and she seems to forget the evil past in the happy present.”

“Before we part, I will ask her whether she will follow us home.”

“Oh, how glad that makes me! and do you know, the first days of our absence from each other do not seem so very dreadful to me.  Now you are to be my husband, I may surely tell you everything that pains or pleases me, even when I dare not tell any one else, and so you must know, that, when you leave, we expect two little visitors; they are the children of the kind Phanes, whom your friend Gyges saved so nobly.  I mean to be like a mother to the little creatures, and when they have been good I shall sing them a story of a prince, a brave hero, who took a simple maiden to be his wife; and when I describe the prince I shall have you in my mind, and though my little listeners will not guess it, I shall be describing you from head to foot.  My prince shall be tall like you, shall have your golden curls and