“Do you mean to imply by these words that I have no virtues which could make an old age beautiful?” asked Bartja.

“I explain my words to no one.  Come.”

“But I ask for an opportunity of proving, that I am inferior to none of my nation in manly qualities.”

“For that matter, the shouts of the Babylonians today will have been proof enough, that deeds are not wanted from you, in order to win their admiration.”

“Cambyses!”

“Now come!  We are just on the eve of a war with the Massagetae; there you will have a good opportunity of proving what you are worth.”

A few minutes later, and Bartja was in the arms of his blind mother.  She had been waiting for her darling’s arrival with a beating heart, and in the joy of hearing his voice once more, and of being able to lay her hands again on that beloved head, she forgot everything else—­even her first-born son who stood by smiling bitterly, as he watched the rich and boundless stream of a mother’s love flowing out to his younger brother.

Cambyses had been spoiled from his earliest infancy.  Every wish had been fulfilled, every look regarded as a command; and thus he grew up totally unable to brook contradiction, giving way to the most violent anger if any of his subjects (and he knew no human beings who were not his subjects) dared to oppose him.

His father Cyrus, conqueror of half the world—­the man whose genius had raised Persia from a small nation to the summit of earthly greatness—­who had secured for himself the reverence and admiration of countless subjugated tribes—­this great king was incapable of carrying out in his own small family-circle the system of education he had so successfully adopted towards entire countries.  He could see nought else in Cambyses but the future king of Persia, and commanded his subjects to pay him an unquestioning obedience, entirely forgetful of the fact that he who is to govern well must begin by learning to obey.

Cambyses had been the first-born son of Kassandane, the wife whom Cyrus had loved and married young; three daughters followed, and at last, fifteen years later, Bartja had come into the world.  Their eldest son had already outgrown his parents’ caresses, when this little child appeared to engross all their care and love.  His gentle, affectionate and clinging nature made him the darling of both father and mother:  Cambyses was treated with consideration by his parents, but their love was for Bartja.  Cambyses was brave; he distinguished himself often in the field, but his disposition was haughty and imperious; men served him with fear and trembling, while Bartja, ever sociable and sympathizing, converted all his companions into loving friends.  As to the mass of the people, they feared the king, and trembled when he drew near, notwithstanding the lavish manner in which he showered rich gifts around him; but they loved Bartja, and believed they saw in him the image of the great Cyrus the “Father of his people.”