only been sent her in a dream. Yes, that was her own Atossa--this her
motherly friend, and there stood, not the angry king, but the man she
loved. And now his lips opened too, his stern, severe eyes rested on her
so beseechingly, and he said: "O Nitetis, awake! you must not--you
cannot possibly be guilty!" She moved her head gently with a look of
cheerful denial and a happy smile stole across her features, like a
breeze of early spring over fresh young roses.

"She is innocent! by Mithras, it is impossible that she can be guilty,"
cried the king again, and forgetful of the presence of others, he sank on
his knees.

A Persian physician came up and rubbed her forehead with a sweet-scented
oil, and Nebenchari approached, muttering spells, felt her pulse, shook
his head, and administered a potion from his portable medicine-chest.
This restored her to perfect consciousness; she raised herself with
difficulty into a sitting posture, returned the loving caresses of her
two friends, and then turning to Cambyses, asked: "How could you believe
such a thing of me, my King?" There was no reproach in her tone, but
deep sadness, and Cambyses answered softly, "Forgive me."

Kassandane's blind eyes expressed her gratitude for this self-
renunciation on the part of her son, and she said: "My daughter, I need
your forgiveness too."

"But I never once doubted you," cried Atossa, proudly and joyfully
kissing her friend's lips.

"Your letter to Bartja shook my faith in your innocence," added
Kassandane.