They say he has been killed by Psamtik's orders; and the little girl, so
sweet and dear, is lying in a dismal dungeon, and pining for her father
and for us. Oh, dearest, isn't it a painful thing that sorrows such as
these should come to mar our perfect happiness? My eyes weep joy and
sorrow in the same moment, and my lips, which have just been laughing
with you, have now to tell you this sad story."

"I feel your pain with you, my child, but it makes my hand clench with
rage instead of filling my eyes with tears. That gentle boy whom you
loved, that little girl who now sits weeping in the dark dungeon, shall
both be revenged. "Trust me; before the Nile has risen again, a powerful
army will have entered Egypt, to demand satisfaction for this murder."

"Oh, dearest, how your eyes are glowing! I never saw you look so
beautiful before. Yes, yes, the boy must be avenged, and none but you
must be his avenger."

"My gentle Sappho is becoming warlike too."

"Yes, women must feel warlike when wickedness is so triumphant; women
rejoice too when such crimes are punished. Tell me has war been declared
already?"

"Not yet; but hosts on hosts are marching to the valley of the Euphrates
to join our main army."

"My courage sinks as quickly as it rose. I tremble at the word, the mere
word, war. How many childless mothers Ares makes, how many young fair
heads must wear the widow's veil, how many pillows are wet through with
tears when Pallas takes her shield."