These last words roused another storm of contradiction.

Again Darius remained calm and quiet in the midst of the tumult.  He repeated once more the story of the whole evening exactly, to prove that it was impossible Bartja could have committed the crime laid to his charge.  He then called on the accused himself to answer the charge of disloyalty and perfidy.  Bartja rejected the idea of an understanding with Nitetis in such short, decided, and convincing words, and confirmed his assertion with such a fearful oath, that Croesus’ persuasion of his guilt first wavered, then vanished, and when Bartja had ended, he drew a deep breath, like a man delivered from a heavy burden, and clasped him in his arms.

But with all their efforts they could come to no explanation of what had really happened.  In one thing, however, they were all agreed:  that Nitetis loved Bartja and had written the letter with a wrong intention.

“No one who saw her,” cried Darius, “when Cambyses announced that Bartja had chosen a wife, could doubt for a moment that she was in love with him.  When she let the goblet fall, I heard Phaedime’s father say that the Egyptian women seemed to take a great interest in the affairs of their brothers-in-law.”

While they were talking, the sun rose and shone pleasantly into the prisoners’ room.

Bartja murmured Mithras means to make our parting difficult.”

“No,” answered Croesus, “he only means to light us kindly on our way into eternity.”

CHAPTER IV.

The innocent originator of all this complicated misery had passed many a wretched hour since the birthday banquet.  Since those harsh words with which Cambyses had sent her from the hall, not the smallest fragment of news had reached her concerning either her angry lover, or his mother and sister.  Not a day had passed since her arrival in Babylon, that had not been spent with Kassandane and Atossa; but now, on her desiring to be carried to them, that she might explain her strange conduct, her new guard, Kandaules, forbade her abruptly to leave the house.  She had thought that a free and full account of the contents of her letter from home, would clear up all these misunderstandings.  She fancied she saw Cambyses holding out his hand as if to ask forgiveness for his hastiness and foolish jealousy.  And then a joyful feeling stole into her mind as she remembered a sentence she had once heard Ibykus say:  “As fever attacks a strong man more violently than one of weaker constitution; so a heart that loves strongly and deeply can be far more awfully tormented by jealousy, than one which has been only superficially seized by passion.”