e women grow up just as we please, and are taught
nothing but a little spinning and weaving. Is it true that most of the
Egyptian women can read and write?"

"Yes, nearly all."

"By Mithras, you must be a clever people! Scarcely any of the Persians,
except the Magi and the scribes, learn these difficult arts. The sons of
the nobles are taught to speak the truth, to be courageous, obedient, and
to reverence the gods; to hunt, ride, plant trees and discern between
herbs; but whoever, like the noble Darius, wishes to learn the art of
writing, must apply to the Magi. Women are forbidden to turn their minds
to such studies.--Now your dress is complete. This string of pearls,
which the king sent this morning, looks magnificent in your raven-black
hair, but it is easy to see that you are not accustomed to the full silk
trousers and high-heeled boots. If, however, you walk two or three times
up and down the room you will surpass all the Persian ladies even in your
walk!"

At this moment a knock was heard and Boges entered. He had come to
conduct Nitetis to Kassandane's apartments, where Cambyses was waiting
for her.

The eunuch affected an abject humility, and poured forth a stream of
flattering words, in which he likened the princess to the sun, the starry
heavens, a pure fount of happiness, and a garden of roses. Nitetis
deigned him not a word in reply, but followed, with a beating heart, to
the queen's apartment.

In order to keep out the noonday sun and produce a salutary half-light
for the blind queen's eyes, her windows were shaded by curtains of green
Indian silk. The floor was covered with a thick Babylonian carpet, soft
as moss under the foot. The walls were faced with a mosaic of ivory,
tortoise-shell, gold, silver, malachite, lapis-lazuli, ebony and amber.
The seats and couches were of gold covered with lions' skins, and a table
of silver stood by the side of the blind queen. Kassandane was seated in
a costly arm-chair. She wore a robe of violet-blue, embroidered with
silver, and over her snow-white hair lay a long veil of delicate lace,
woven in Egypt, the ends of which were wound round her neck and tied in a
large bow beneath her chin. She was between sixty and seventy years old;
her face, framed, as it were, into a picture by the lace veil, was
exquisitely symmetrical in its form, intellectual, kind and benevolent in
its expression.

The blind eyes were closed, but those who gazed on her felt that, if
open