grandfather's side from the first and the two of them had been
playmates of old. Then he looked closer and saw that the king's eyes
were stencilled and his cheeks painted, and that he wore false curls
after the fashion of the Medes in those days (for these adornments,
and the purple robes, the tunics, the necklaces, and the bracelets,
they are all Median first and last, not Persian; the Persian, as you
find him at home even now-a-days, still keeps to his plainer dress and
his plainer style of living.) The boy, seeing his grandfather's
splendour, kept his eyes fixed on him, and cried, "Oh, mother, how
beautiful my grandfather is!" Then his mother asked him which he
thought the handsomer, his father or his grandfather, and he answered
at once, "My father is the handsomest of all the Persians, but my
grandfather much the handsomest of all the Medes I ever set eyes on,
at home or abroad." [3] At that Astyages drew the child to his heart,
and gave him a beautiful robe and bracelets and necklaces in sign of
honour, and when he rode out, the boy must ride beside him on a horse
with a golden bridle, just like King Astyages himself. And Cyrus, who
had a soul as sensitive to beauty as to honour, was pleased with the
splendid robe, and overjoyed at learning to ride, for a horse is a
rare sight in Persia, a mountainous country, and one little suited to
the breed.

[4] Now Cyrus and his mother sat at meat with the king, and Astyages,
wishing the lad to enjoy the feast and not regret his home, plied him
with dainties of every sort. At that, so says the story, Cyrus burst
out, "Oh, grandfather, what trouble you must give yourself reaching
for all these dishes and tasting all these wonderful foods!" "Ah,
but," said Astyages, "is not this a far better meal than you ever had
in Persia?" Thereupon, as the tale runs, Cyrus answered, "Our way,
grandfather, is much shorter than yours, and much simpler. We are