They found Theopompus sitting in Rhodopis’ own apartment, as Sappho had supposed.  He had finished telling her the story of Zopyrus’ arrest, and of the journey which Bartja and his friends had taken on his behalf.

Their anxiety on the matter was beginning to be so serious, that Bartja’s unexpected appearance was a great relief.  His words flew as he repeated the events of the last few hours, and begged Theopompus to look out at once for a ship in sailing order, to convey himself and his friends from Egypt.

“That suits famously,” exclaimed Kallias.  “My own trireme brought me from Naukratis to-day; it is lying now, fully equipped for sea, in the port, and is quite at your service.  I have only to send orders to the steersman to keep the crew together and everything in sailing order.—­You are under no obligations to me; on the contrary it is I who have to thank you for the honor you will confer on me.  Ho, Knakias!—­tell my slave Philomelus, he’s waiting in the hall,—­to take a boat to the port, and order my steersman Nausarchus to keep the ship in readiness for starting.  Give him this seal; it empowers him to do all that is necessary.”

“And my slaves?” said Bartja.

“Knakias can tell my old steward to take them to Kallias’ ship,” answered Theopompus.

“And when they see this,” said Bartja, giving the old servant his ring, “they will obey without a question.”

Knakias went away with many a deep obeisance, and the prince went on:  “Now, my mother, I have a great petition to ask of you.”

“I guess what it is,” said Rhodopis, with a smile.  “You wish your marriage to be hastened, and I see that I dare not oppose your wish.”

“If I’m not mistaken,” said Kallias, “we have a remarkable case here.  Two people are in great peril, and find that very peril a matter of rejoicing.”

“Perhaps you are right there,” said Bartja, pressing Sappho’s hand unperceived.  And then, turning to Rhodopis again, he begged her to delay no longer in trusting her dearest treasure to his care,—­a treasure whose worth he knew so well.

Rhodopis rose, she laid her right hand on Sappho’s head and her left on Bartja’s, and said:  “There is a myth which tells of a blue lake in the land of roses; its waves are sometimes calm and gentle, but at others they rise into a stormy flood; the taste of its waters is partly sweet as honey, partly bitter as gall.  Ye will learn the meaning of this legend in the marriage-land of roses.  Ye will pass calm and stormy-sweet and bitter hours there.  So long as thou wert a child, Sappho, thy life passed on like a cloudless spring morning, but when thou becam’st a maiden, and hadst learnt to love, thine heart was opened to admit pain; and during the long months of separation pain was a frequent guest there.  This guest will seek admission as long as life lasts.  Bartja, it will be your duty to keep this intruder away from Sappho, as far as it