never taken it into their heads to conquer countries which do not belong
to them."

He then unbent his mighty bow of ebony, and gave it to Prexaspes to take
to his lord.

Cambyses laughed at the bragging African, invited his nobles to a trial
of the bow the next morning, and awarded Prexaspes for the clever way in
which he had overcome the difficulties of his journey and acquitted
himself of his mission. He then went to rest, as usual intoxicated, and
fell into a disturbed sleep, in which he dreamed that Bartja was seated
on the throne of Persia, and that the crown of his head touched the
heavens.

This was a dream, which he could interpret without the aid of soothsayer
or Chaldean. It roused his anger first, and then made him thoughtful.

He could not sleep, and such questions as the following came into his
mind: "Haven't you given your brother reason to feel revengeful? Do you
think he can forget that you imprisoned and condemned him to death, when
he was innocent? And if he should raise his hand against you, would not
all the Achaemenidae take his part? Have I ever done, or have I any
intention of ever doing anything to win the love of these venal
courtiers? Since Nitetis died and that strange Greek fled, has there been
a single human being, in whom I have the least confidence or on whose
affection I can rely?"

These thoughts and questionings excited him so fearfully, that he sprang
from his bed, crying: "Love and I have nothing to do with one another.
Other men maybe kind and good if they like; I must be stern, or I shall
fall into the hands of those who hate me--hate me because I have been
just, and have visited heavy sins with heavy chastisements. They whisper
flattering words in my ear; they curse me when my back is turned. The
gods themselves must be my enemies, or why do they rob me of everything I
love, deny me posterity and even that military glory which is my just
due? Is Bartja so much better than I, that everything which I am forced
to give up should be his in hundred-fold measure? Love, friendship, fame,
children, everything flows to him as the rivers to the sea, while my
heart is parched like the desert. But I am king still. I can show him
which is the stronger of us two, and I will, though his forehead may
touch the heavens. In Persia there can be only one great man. He or I,--I
or he. In a few days I'll send him back to Asia and make him satrap of
Bactria. There he can nurse his child and listen