“But how can I, grandmother?  I have sworn to be faithful to him for ever.”

“Oh, children!  Ye play with eternity as if it were but a passing moment!  I could blame thee for thus plighting thy troth, but I rejoice that thou regardest the oath as binding.  I detest the blasphemous proverb:  ’Zeus pays no heed to lovers’ oaths.’  Why should an oath touching the best and holiest feelings of humanity be regarded by the Deity, as inferior in importance to asseverations respecting the trifling questions of mine and thine?  Keep thy promise then,—­hold fast thy love, but prepare to renounce thy lover.”

“Never, grandmother! could I ever have loved Bartja, if I had not trusted him?  Just because he is a Persian and holds truth to be the highest virtue, I may venture to hope that he will remember his oath, and, notwithstanding those evil customs of the Asiatics, will take and keep me as his only wife.”

“But if he should forget, thy youth will be passed in mourning, and with an embittered heart . . .”

“O, dear kind grandmother, pray do not speak of such dreadful things.  If you knew him as well as I do, you would rejoice with me, and would tell me I was right to believe that the Nile may dry up and the Pyramids crumble into ruins, before my Bartja can ever deceive me!”

The girl spoke these words with such a joyful, perfect confidence, and her eyes, though filled with tears, were so brilliant with happiness and warmth of feeling, that Rhodopis’ face grew cheerful too.

Sappho threw her arms again round her grandmother, told her every word that Bartja had said to her, and ended the long account by exclaiming:  “Oh, grandmother, I am so happy, so very happy, and if you will come with us to Persia, I shall have nothing more to wish from the Immortals.”

“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.