“The Egyptian is still asleep.” said Boges.  “She must be much fatigued by the journey.  I see too that one of her windows is still firmly closed.”

“Then tell me quickly,” said the Persian.  “Do you really think that this stranger’s coming can injure me in any way?”

“Certainly, I do, my pretty one.”

“But what leads you to suppose this?”

“She is only to obey the king’s commands, not mine.”

“Is that all?”

“No, my treasure.  I know the king.  I can read his features as the Magi read the sacred books.”

“Then we must ruin her.”

“More easily said than done, my little bird.”

“Leave me alone! you are insolent.”

“Well, but nobody can see us, and you know you can do nothing without my help.”

“Very well then, I don’t care.  But tell me quickly what we can do.”

“Thanks, my sweet Phaedime.  Well, for the present we must be patient and wait our time.  That detestable hypocrite Croesus seems to have established himself as protector of the Egyptian; when he is away, we must set our snares.”

The speakers were by this time at such a distance, that Nitetis could not understand what they said.  In silent indignation she closed the shutter, and called her maidens to dress her.  She knew her enemies now—­she knew that a thousand dangers surrounded her, and yet she felt proud and happy, for was she not chosen to be the real wife of Cambyses?  Her own worth seemed clearer to her than ever before, from a comparison with these miserable creatures, and a wonderful certainty of ultimate victory stole into her heart, for Nitetis was a firm believer in the magic power of virtue.

“What was that dreadful sound I heard so early?” she asked of her principal waiting-woman, who was arranging her hair.

“Do you mean the sounding brass, lady?”

“Scarcely two hours ago I was awakened by a strange and frightful sound.”

“That was the sounding brass, lady.  It is used to awaken the young sons of the Persian nobles, who are brought up at the gate of the king.  You will soon become accustomed to it.  We have long ceased even to hear it, and indeed on great festivals, when it is not sounded, we awake from the unaccustomed stillness.  From the hanging-gardens you will be able to see how the boys are taken to bathe every morning, whatever the weather may be.  The poor little ones are taken from their mothers when they are six years old, to be brought up with the other boys of their own rank under the king’s eye.”

“Are they to begin learning the luxurious manners of the court so early?”

“Oh no! the poor boys lead a terrible life.  They are obliged to sleep on the hard ground, to rise before the sun.  Their food is bread and water, with very little meat, and they are never allowed to taste wine or vegetables.  Indeed at times they are deprived of food and drink for some days, simply to accustom them to privations.  When the court is at Ecbatana or Pasargadae, and the weather is bitterly cold, they are sure to be taken out to bathe, and here in Susa, the hotter the sun, the longer and more difficult the marches they are compelled to take.”