shall not outlive you, and shall die an innocent man by the side of the
guilty."

These last words roused another storm of contradiction.

Again Darius remained calm and quiet in the midst of the tumult. He
repeated once more the story of the whole evening exactly, to prove that
it was impossible Bartja could have committed the crime laid to his
charge. He then called on the accused himself to answer the charge of
disloyalty and perfidy. Bartja rejected the idea of an understanding
with Nitetis in such short, decided, and convincing words, and confirmed
his assertion with such a fearful oath, that Croesus' persuasion of his
guilt first wavered, then vanished, and when Bartja had ended, he drew a
deep breath, like a man delivered from a heavy burden, and clasped him in
his arms.

But with all their efforts they could come to no explanation of what had
really happened. In one thing, however, they were all agreed: that
Nitetis loved Bartja and had written the letter with a wrong intention.

"No one who saw her," cried Darius, "when Cambyses announced that Bartja
had chosen a wife, could doubt for a moment that she was in love with
him. When she let the goblet fall, I heard Phaedime's father say that
the Egyptian women seemed to take a great interest in the affairs of
their brothers-in-law."

While they were talking, the sun rose and shone pleasantly into the
prisoners' room.

Bartja murmured Mithras means to make our parting difficult."