“In the Libyan desert I have killed many a lion.”

“Then come, follow me.”

In the thought of the chase the king seemed to have thrown off all his weakness and roused himself to action; he was just leaving the hall, when Hystaspes once more threw himself at his feet, crying with up-raised hands:  “Is my son—­is your brother, to die innocent?  By the soul of your father, who used to call me his truest friend, I conjure you to listen to this noble stranger.”

Cambyses stood still.  The frown gathered on his brow again, his voice sounded like a menace and his eyes flashed as he raised his hand and said to the Greek:  “Tell me what you know; but remember that in every untrue word, you utter your own sentence of death.”

Phanes heard this threat with the greatest calmness, and answered, bowing gracefully as he spoke:  “From the sun and from my lord the king, nothing can be hid.  What power has a poor mortal to conceal the truth from one so mighty?  The noble Hystaspes has said, that I am able to prove your brother innocent.  I will only say, that I wish and hope I may succeed in accomplishing anything so great and beautiful.  The gods have at least allowed me to discover a trace which seems calculated to throw light on the events of yesterday; but you yourself must decide whether my hopes have been presumptuous and my suspicions too easily aroused.  Remember, however, that throughout, my wish to serve you has been sincere, and that if I have been deceived, my error is pardonable; that nothing is perfectly certain in this world, and every man believes that to be infallible which seems to him the most probable.”

“You speak well, and remind me of . . . curse her! there, speak and have done with it!  I hear the dogs already in the court.”

“I was still in Egypt when your embassy came to fetch Nitetis.  At the house of Rhodopis, my delightful, clever and celebrated countrywoman, I made the acquaintance of Croesus and his son; I only saw your brother and his friends once or twice, casually; still I remembered the young prince’s handsome face so well, that some time later, when I was in the workshop of the great sculptor Theodorus at Samos, I recognized his features at once.”

“Did you meet him at Samos?”

“No, but his features had made such a deep and faithful impression on Theodorus’ memory, that he used them to beautify the head of an Apollo, which the Achaemenidae had ordered for the new temple of Delphi.”

“Your tale begins, at least, incredibly enough.  How is it possible to copy features so exactly, when you have not got them before you?”

“I can only answer that Theodorus has really completed this master-piece, and if you wish for a proof of his skill would gladly send you a second likeness of . . .”

“I have no desire for it.  Go on with your story.”

“On my journey hither, which, thanks to your father’s excellent arrangements, I performed in an incredibly short time, changing horses every sixteen or seventeen miles . . .”