on the balustrade. Nehushta looked at
him again, for he was good to see, and perhaps she loved his straight
calm features the better in that his face was fair, and not dark like
hers.

"Methinks I have taken the giver already," she answered.

"Not yet--not all," said Zoroaster in a low voice, and a shadow of
sadness crossed his noble face that looked white in the moonlight.
Nehushta sighed softly and presently she laid her cheek upon his
shoulder where the folding of his purple mantle made a pillow between
her face and the polished golden scales of his breastplate.

"I have strange news to tell you, beloved," said Zoroaster presently.
Nehushta started and looked up, for his voice was sad. "Nay, fear not!"
he continued, "there is no harm in it, I trust; but there are great
changes in the kingdom, and there will be greater changes yet. The seven
princes have slain Smerdis in Shushan, and Darius is chosen king, the
son of Gushtasp, whom the Greeks call Hystaspes."

"He who came hither last year?" asked Nehushta quickly. "He is not fair,
this new king."

"Not fair," replied the Persian, "but a brave man and a good. He has,
moreover, sent for me to go to Shushan--"

"For you!" cried Nehushta, suddenly laying her two hands on Zoroaster's
shoulders and gazing into his eyes. His face was to the moonlight, while
hers was in the dark, and she could see every shade of expression. He
smiled. "You laugh at me!" she cried indignantly. "You mock me--you are
going away and you are glad!"

She would have turned away from him, but he held her two hands.

"Not alone," he answered. "The Great King has sent an order that I shall
bring to Shushan the kinsfolk of Jehoiakim, saving only Daniel, our
master, for he is so old that he cannot perform the journey. The king
would honour the royal seed of Judah, and to that end he sends for you,
most noble and most beloved princess."

Nehushta was silent and thoughtful; her hand slipped from Zoroaster's
grasp, and her eyes looked dreamily out at the river, on which the beams
of the now fully-risen moon glanced, as on the scales of a silver
serpent.

"Are you glad, my beloved?" asked Zoroaster. He stood with his back to
the balustrade, leaning on one elbow, and his right hand played
carelessly with the heavy gold tassels of his cloak. He had come up from
the fortress in his armour, as he was, to bring the news to Nehushta and
to Daniel; his gilded harness was on his back, half-hidden by the