While sitting at table one day, already somewhat intoxicated, he asked
Prexaspes what the Persians thought of him. The envoy, who in hopes of
deadening his tormenting conscience by the performance of noble and
dangerous acts, let no opportunity pass of trying to exercise a good
influence over his sovereign, answered that they extolled him on every
point, but thought he was too much addicted to wine.

These words, though spoken half in jest, put the king into a violent
passion, and he almost shrieked: "So the Persians say, that the wine has
taken away my senses, do they? on the contrary, I'll show them that
they've lost their own." And as he spoke he bent his bow, took aim for a
moment at Prexaspes' eldest son, who, as cup-bearer, was standing at the
back of the hall waiting for and watching every look of his sovereign,
and shot him in the breast. He then gave orders that the boy's body
should be opened and examined. The arrow had pierced the centre of his
heart. This delighted the senseless tyrant, and he called out with a
laugh: "Now you see, Prexaspes, it's the Persians who have lost their
judgment, not I. Could any one have hit the mark better?"

Prexaspes stood there, pale and motionless, compelled to watch the horrid
scene, like Niobe when chained to Sipylus. His servile spirit bowed
before the ruler's power, instead of arming his right hand with the
dagger of revenge, and when the frantic king asked him the same question
a second time, he actually answered, pressing his hand on his heart: "A
god could not have hit the mark more exactly."

A few weeks after this, the king went to Sais, and there was shown the
rooms formerly occupied by his bride. This brought back all the old
painful recollections in full force, and at the same time his clouded
memory reminded him, though without any clearness of detail, that Amasis