"He will spend more of his time in the grove of Cybele, than at his
patient's bedside. How glad I shall be to see that jolly fellow again!"

"Yes, he'll keep you from falling into those melancholy fits that you
have been so subject to lately." "You are quite right to blame me for
those fits, and I must not yield to them, but they are not without
ground. Croesus says we only get low-spirited, when we are either too
lazy or too weak to struggle against annoyances, and I believe he is
right. But no one shall dare to accuse Darius of weakness or idleness.
If I can't rule the world, at least I will be my own master." And as he
said these words, the handsome youth drew himself up, and sat erect in
his saddle. His companion gazed in wonder at him.

"Really, you son of Hystaspes," he said, "I believe you must be meant for
something great. It was not by chance that, when you were still a mere
child, the gods sent their favorite Cyrus that dream which induced him to
order you into safe keeping."

"And yet my wings have never appeared."

"No bodily ones, certainly; but mental ones, likely enough. Young man,
young man, you're on a dangerous road."

"Have winged creatures any need to be afraid of precipices?"

"Certainly; when their strength fails them."

"But I am strong."

"Stronger creatures than you will try to break your pinions."