“That will not last long,” said Rhodopis.  “The gods cast envious glances at the happiness of mortals; they measure our portion of evil with lavish hands, and give us but a scanty allowance of good.  But now go to bed, my child, and let us pray together that all may end happily.  I met thee this morning as a child, I part from thee to-night a woman; and, when thou art a wife, may thy kiss be as joyful as the one thou givest me now.  To-morrow I will talk the matter over with Croesus.  He must decide whether I dare allow thee to await the return of the Persian prince, or whether I must entreat thee to forget him and become the domestic wife of a Greek husband.  Sleep well, my darling, thy grandmother will wake and watch for thee.”

Sappho’s happy fancies soon cradled her to sleep; but Rhodopis remained awake watching the day dawn, and the sun rise, her mind occupied with thoughts which brought smiles and frowns across her countenance in rapid succession.

The next morning she sent to Croesus, begging him to grant her an hour’s interview, acquainted him with every particular she had heard from Sappho, and concluded her tale with these words:  “I know not what demands may be made on the consort of a Persian king, but I can truly say that I believe Sappho to be worthy of the first monarch of the world.  Her father was free and of noble birth, and I have heard that, by Persian law, the descent of a child is determined by the rank of the father only.  In Egypt, too, the descendants of a female slave enjoy the same rights as those of a princess, if they owe their existence to the same father.”

“I have listened to you in silence,” answered Croesus, “and must confess, that, like yourself, I do not know in this moment whether to be glad or sorry for this attachment.  Cambyses and Kassandane (the king’s and Bartja’s mother) wished to see the prince married before we left Persia, for the king has no children, and should he remain childless, the only hope for the family of Cyrus rests on Bartja, as the great founder of the Persian empire left but two sons,—­Cambyses, and him who is now the suitor of your granddaughter.  The latter is the hope and pride of the entire Persian nation, high and low; the darling of the people; generous, and noble, handsome, virtuous, and worthy of their love.  It is indeed expected that the princes shall marry in their own family, the Achaemenidae; but the Persians have an unbounded predilection for everything foreign.  Enchanted with the beauty of your granddaughter, and rendered indulgent by their partiality for Bartja, they would easily forgive this breach of an ancient custom.  Indeed, if the king gives his approval, no objection on the part of his subjects can be entertained.  The history of Iran too offers a sufficient number of examples, in which even slaves became the mothers of kings.  The queen mother, whose position, in the eyes of the people, is nearly as high as that of the monarch himself, will do nothing to thwart