Bartja, whose cheeks were really glowing from agitation, bent his head close to his brother’s ear, and whispered shortly the story of his love.  Sappho’s father had helped to defend his native town Phocaea against the hosts of Cyrus, and this fact the boy cleverly brought forward, speaking of the girl he loved as the daughter of a Greek warrior of noble birth.  In so saying he spoke the truth, but at the same time he suppressed the facts that this very father had acquired great riches by mercantile undertakings.

[The Persians were forbidden by law to contract debts, because debtors were necessarily led to say much that was untrue.  Herod.  I. For this reason they held all money transactions in contempt, such occupations being also very uncongenial to their military tastes.  They despised commerce and abandoned it to the conquered nations.]

He then told his brother how charming, cultivated and loving his Sappho was, and was just going to call on Croesus for a confirmation of his words, when Cambyses interrupted him by kissing his forehead and saying:  “You need say no more, brother; do what your heart bids you.  I know the power of love too, and I will help you to gain our mother’s consent.”  Bartja threw himself at his brother’s feet, overcome with gratitude and joy, but Cambyses raised him kindly and, looking especially at Nitetis and Kassandane, exclaimed:  “Listen, my dear ones, the stem of Cyrus is going to blossom afresh, for our brother Bartja has resolved to put an end to his single life, so displeasing to the gods.

[The Persians were commanded by their religion to marry, and the unmarried were held up to ridicule.  Vendid.  IV.  Fargard. 130.  The highest duty of man was to create and promote life, and to have many children was therefore considered praiseworthy.  Herod.  I. 136.]

In a few days the young lover will leave us for your country, Nitetis, and will bring back another jewel from the shores of the Nile to our mountain home.”

“What is the matter, sister?” cried Atossa, before her brother had finished speaking.  Nitetis had fainted, and Atossa was sprinkling her forehead with wine as she lay in her arms.

“What was it?” asked the blind Kassandane, when Nitetis had awakened to consciousness a few moments later.

“The joy—­the happiness—­Tachot,” faltered Nitetis.  Cambyses, as well as his sister, had sprung to the fainting girl’s help.  When she had recovered consciousness, he asked her to take some wine to revive her completely, gave her the cup with his own hand, and then went on at the point at which he had left off in his account:  “Bartja is going to your own country, my wife—­to Naukratis on the Nile—­to fetch thence the granddaughter of a certain Rhodopis, and daughter of a noble warrior, a native of the brave town of Phocaea, as his wife.”

“What was that?” cried the blind queen-mother.

“What is the matter with you?” exclaimed Atossa again, in an anxious, almost reproachful tone.