I could hear the sound of their voices and
weapons on their way back to Sais."

The guests listened with eager attention to this tale. At its close a
mingled feeling of relief and anxiety was felt by all; relief that their
favorite companion had escaped so fearful a danger, anxiety for the brave
young Lydian who had risked his life to save him. They praised his
generosity, congratulated Croesus on possessing such a son, and finally
agreed in the conclusion, that, when the crown-prince discovered the
error into which his emissaries had fallen, he must certainly release
Gyges, and even make him compensation for what he had suffered at their
hands.

The friendship already shown by Amasis, and the fear in which he
evidently stood of the Persian power, were the thoughts which had power
to calm Croesus, who soon left, in order to pass the night at the house
of Theopompus, the Milesian merchant. At parting, Aristomachus said:
"Salute Gyges in my name; tell him I ask his forgiveness, and hope one
day either to enjoy his friendship, or, if that cannot be, to meet him as
a fair foe on the field of battle."

"Who knows what the future may bring?" answered Croesus giving his hand
to the Spartan.

CHAPTER IX.

The sun of a new day had risen over Egypt, but was still low in the east;
the copious dew, which, on the Nile, supplies the place of rain, lay
sparkling like jewels on the leaves and blossoms, and the morning air,
freshened by a north-west wind, invited those to enjoy it who could not
bear the heat of mid-day.

Through the door of the country-house, now so well known to us, two
female figures have just passed; Melitta, the old slave, and Sappho, the
grandchild of Rhodopis.

The latter is not less lovely now, than when we saw her last, asleep. She
moves through the garden with a light quick step, her white morning robe
with its wide sleeves falling in graceful drapery over her lithe limbs,
the thick brown hair straying from beneath the purple kerchief over her
head, and a merry, roguish smile lurking round her rosy mouth and in the
dimples of her cheeks and chin.

She stooped to pick a rose, dashed the dew from it into the face of her
old nurse, laughing at her naughty trick till the clear bell-like tones
rang through the garden; fixed the flower in her dress and began to sing
in a wonderfully rich and sweet voice--

Cupid once upon a bed
Of roses laid his weary head;
Luckless ur