r
own country--that Cambyses, if victorious, will not be contented with
Egypt alone, while his defeat may bring freedom to their own enslaved
countrymen in Ionia. I know you agree with me, Neithotep, for in your
heart you mean well to Egypt.--Now read me the prayers. I feel exhausted;
my end must be very near. If I could only forget that poor Nitetis! had
she the right to curse us? May the judges of the dead-may Osiris--have
mercy on our souls! Sit down by me, Ladice; lay thy hand on my burning
forehead. And Psamtik, in presence of these witnesses, swear to honor and
respect thy step-mother, as if thou wert her own child. My poor wife!
Come and seek me soon before the throne of Osiris. A widow and childless,
what hast thou to do with this world? We brought up Nitetis as our own
daughter, and yet we are so heavily punished for her sake. But her curse
rests on us--and only on us;--not on thee, Psamtik, nor on thy children.
Bring my grandson. Was that a tear? Perhaps; well, the little things to
which one has accustomed one's self are generally the hardest to give
up."

......................

Rhodopis entertained a fresh guest that evening; Kallias, the son of
Phoenippus, the same who first appeared in our tale as the bearer of news
from the Olympic games.

The lively, cheerful Athenian had just come back from his native country,
and, as an old and tried friend, was not only received by Rhodopis, but
made acquainted with the secret of Sappho's marriage.

Knakias, her old slave, had, it is true, taken in the flag which was the
sign of reception, two days ago; but he knew that Kallias was always
welcome to his mistress, and therefore admitted him just as readily as he
refused every one else.

The Athenian had plenty to tell, and when Rhodopis was called away on
business, he took his favorite Sappho into the garden, joking and teasing
her gaily as they looked out for her lover's coming. But Bartja did not
come, and Sappho began to be so anxious that Kallias called old Melitta,
whose longing looks in the direction of Naukratis were, if possible, more
anxious even than those of her mistress, and told her to fetch a musical
instrument which he had brought with him.

It was a rather large lute, made of gold and ivory, and as he handed it
to Sappho, he said, with a smile: "The inventor of this glorious
instrument, the divine Anakreon, had it made expressly for me, at my own
wish. He calls it a Barbiton, and brings