"No; it was written in Greek. The faithless creature made use of
characters, which no one at this court can read."

"Will you permit me to translate the letter?" Cambyses pointed to a
small ivory box in which the ominous piece of writing lay, saying: "There
it is; read it; but do not hide or alter a single word, for to-morrow I
shall have it read over again by one of the merchants from Sinope."

Croesus' hopes revived; he seemed to breathe again as he took the paper.
But when he had read it over, his eyes filled with tears and he murmured:
"The fable of Pandora is only too true; I dare not be angry any longer
with those poets who have written severely against women. Alas, they are
all false and faithless! O Kassandane, how the Gods deceive us! they
grant us the gift of old age, only to strip us bare like trees in winter,
and show us that all our fancied gold was dross and all our pleasant and
refreshing drinks poison!"

Kassandane wept aloud and tore her costly robes; but Cambyses clenched
his fist while Croesus was reading the following words:

"Nitetis, daughter of Amasis of Egypt, to Bartja, son of the great Cyrus:

"I have something important to tell you; I can tell it to no one but
yourself. To-morrow I hope I shall meet you in your mother's apartments.
It lies in your power to comfort a sad and loving heart, and to give it
one happy moment before death. I have a great deal to tell you, and some
very sad news; I repeat that I must see you soon."

The desperate laughter, which burst from her son cut his mother to the