Bartja then told the story of the unfortunate shooting-match, finishing with these words:  “Croesus blames my imprudence, but I know my brother; I know that when he is angry he is capable of any act of violence, and it is not impossible that at the moment when he felt himself defeated he could have killed me; but I know too, that when his fierce passion has cooled, he will forget my boastful deed, and only try to excel me by others of the same kind.  A year ago he was by far the best marksman in Persia, and would be so still, if drink and epilepsy had not undermined his strength.  I must confess I feel as if I were becoming stronger every day.”

“Yes,” interrupted Rhodopis, “pure happiness strengthens a man’s arm, just as it adds to the beauty of a woman, while intemperance and mental distress ruin both body and mind far more surely even than old age.  My son, beware of your brother; his strong arm has become paralyzed, and his generosity can be forfeited too.  Trust my experience, that the man who is the slave of one evil passion, is very seldom master of the rest; besides which, no one feels humiliation so bitterly as he who is sinking —­who knows that his powers are forsaking him.  I say again, beware of your brother, and trust the voice of experience more than that of your own heart, which, because it is generous itself, believes every one else to be so.”

“I see,” said Bartja, “that you will take Sappho’s side.  Difficult as it will be for her to part from you, she has still begged me to return with her to Persia.  She thinks that Cambyses may forget his anger, when I am out of sight.  I thought she was over-anxious, and besides, it would disappoint me not to take part in the expedition against the Ethiopians.”

“But I entreat you,” interrupted Rhodopis, “to follow her advice.  The gods only know what pain it will give me to lose you both, and yet I repeat a thousand times:  Go back to Persia, and remember that none but fools stake life and happiness to no purpose.  As to the war with Ethiopia, it is mere madness; instead of subduing those black inhabitants of the south, you yourselves will be conquered by heat, thirst and all the horrors of the desert.  In saying this I refer to the campaigns in general; as to your own share in them, I can only say that if no fame is to be won there, you will be putting your own life and the happiness of your family in jeopardy literally for nothing, and that if, on the other hand, you should distinguish yourself again, it would only be giving fresh cause of jealousy and anger to your brother.  No, go to Persia, as soon as you can.”

Bartja was just beginning to make various objections to these arguments, when he caught sight of Prexaspes coming up to them, looking very pale.

After the usual greeting, the envoy whispered to Bartja, that he should like to speak with him alone.  Rhodopis left them at once, and he began, playing with the rings on his right hand as he spoke, in a constrained, embarrassed way.  “I come from the king.  Your display of strength irritated him yesterday, and he does not wish to see you again for some time.  His orders are, that you set out for Arabia to buy up all the camels that are to be had.