liar shall be strangled with his own bow-string. This wood is really
harder than iron, and I confess that the man who could bend it, would
really be my master. I should not be ashamed to call him so, for he must
be of better stuff than I."

As he finished speaking, Bartja appeared in the circle of assembled
Persians. His glorious figure was set off to advantage by his rich
dress, his features were bright with happiness and a feeling of conscious
strength. He passed through the ranks of the Achaemenidae with many a
friendly nod, which was warmly returned, and going straight to his
brother, kissed his robe, looked up frankly and cheerfully into his
gloomy eyes, and said: "I am a little late, and ask your forgiveness, my
lord and brother. Or have I really come in time? Yes, yes, I see
there's no arrow in the target yet, so I am sure you, the best archer in
the world, cannot have tried your strength yet. But you look so
enquiringly at me. Then I will confess that our child kept me. The
little creature laughed to-day for the first time, and was so charming
with its mother, that I forgot how time was passing while I watched them.
You have all full leave to laugh at my folly; I really don't know how to
excuse myself. See, the little one has pulled my star from the chain.
But I think, my brother, you will give me a new one to-day if I should
hit the bull's eye. Shall I shoot first, or will you begin, my
Sovereign?"

"Give him the bow, Prexaspes," said Cambyses, not even deigning to look
at his brother.

Bartja took it and was proceeding to examine the wood and the string,
when Cambyses suddenly called out, with a mocking laugh: "By Mithras, I
believe you want to try your sweet looks on the bow, and win its favor in