to destroy him. Harpagus, although he professed unconditional obedience
to his monarch, had scruples about taking the life of one so near the
throne, the grandson of the king and presumptive heir of the monarchy.
So he, in turn, intrusted the royal infant to the care of a herdsman, in
whom he had implicit confidence, with orders to kill him. The herdsman
had a tender-hearted and conscientious wife who had just given birth to
a dead child, and she persuaded her husband--for even in Media women
virtually ruled, as they do everywhere, if they have tact--to substitute
the dead child for the living one, deck it out in the royal costume, and
expose it to wild beasts. This was done, and Cyrus remained the supposed
child of the shepherd. The secret was well kept for ten years, and both
Astyages and Harpagus supposed that Cyrus was slain.

Cyrus meanwhile grew up among the mountains, a hardy and beautiful boy,
exposed to heat and cold, hunger and fatigue, and thus was early inured
to danger and hardship. Added to personal beauty was remarkable courage,
frankness, and brightness, so that he took the lead of other boys in
their amusements. One day they played king, and Cyrus was chosen to
represent royalty, which he acted so literally as to beat the son of a
Median nobleman for disobedience. The indignant and angry father
complained at once to the king, and Astyages sent for the herdsman and
his supposed son to attend him in his palace. When the two mountaineers
were ushered into the royal presence, Astyages was so struck with the
beauty, wit, and boldness of the boy that he made earnest inquiries of
the herdsman, who was forced to tell the truth, and confessed that the
youth was not his son, but had been put into his hands by Harpagus with
orders to destroy him. The royal origin of Cyrus was now apparent, and
the king sent for Harpagus, who corroborated the statement of the
herdsman. Astyages dissembled his wrath, as Oriental monarchs can, who
are trained to dissimulation, and the only punishment he inflicted on