still so much to do to-day.  First I must be present at an Egyptian donkey-ride; secondly, I must witness an Egyptian execution . . . but I see I am anticipating my story; I must begin at the beginning.  I’ll allow you to cry, laugh and scream for joy as much as you will, but you’re forbidden to ask a single question until I have finished.  I think really I have deserved these caresses.  There, now I am quite at my ease, and can begin.  Once upon a time there was a great king in Persia, who had many wives, but he loved Phaedime better than the rest, and set her above all the others.  One day the thought struck him that he would ask for the hand of the King of Egypt’s daughter in marriage, and he sent a great embassy to Sais, with his own brother to do the wooing for him—­”

“What nonsense!” cried Phaedime impatiently; “I want to know what has happened now.”

“Patience, patience, my impetuous March wind.  If you interrupt me again, I shall go away and tell my story to the trees.  You really need not grudge me the pleasure of living my successes over again.  While I tell this story, I feel as happy as a sculptor when he puts down his hammer and gazes at his finished work.”

“No, no!” said Phaedime, interrupting him again.  “I cannot listen now to what I know quite well already.  I am dying of impatience, and every fresh report that the eunuchs and slave-girls bring makes it worse.  I am in a perfect fever—­I cannot wait.  Ask whatever else you like, only deliver me from this awful suspense.  Afterwards I will listen to you for days, if you wish.”

Boges’ smile at these words was one of great satisfaction; he rubbed his hands and answered:  “When I was a child I had no greater pleasure than to watch a fish writhing on the hook; now I have got you, my splendid golden carp, at the end of my line, and I can’t let you go until I have sated myself on your impatience.”

Phaedime sprang up from the couch which she had shared with Boges, stamping her foot and behaving like a naughty child.  This seemed to amuse the eunuch immensely; he rubbed his hands again and again, laughed till the tears ran down over his fat cheeks, emptied many a goblet of wine to the health of the tortured beauty, and then went on with his tale:  “It had not escaped me that Cambyses sent his brother (who had brought Nitetis from Egypt), out to the war with the Tapuri purely from jealousy.  That proud woman, who was to take no orders from me, seemed to care as little for the handsome, fair-haired boy as a Jew for pork, or an Egyptian for white beans.  But still I resolved to nourish the king’s jealousy, and use it as a means of rendering this impudent creature harmless, as she seemed likely to succeed in supplanting us both in his favor.  It was long, however, before I could hit on a feasible plan.