have been so
unexpectedly shaken. And so, consoling himself with the hopes of the
future, and striving to overlook the present, he fell asleep, wearied
with the fatigues and sorrows of the day.

But Nehushta lay all night upon her silken cushions, and watched the
flickering little lamp and the strange shadows it cast among the rich,
painted carvings of the ceiling. She slept little, but waking she
dreamed of the gold and the glitter of Shushan, of the magnificence of
the young king, and of the brilliant hard-featured beauty of Atossa,
whom she already hated or had determined to hate. The king interested
her most. She tried to recall his features and manner as he had appeared
when he tarried one night in the fortress a year previous. She
remembered a black-browed man in the prime of youth, with heavy brows
and an eagle nose; his young beard growing black and square about his
strong dark features, which would have seemed coarse saving for his
bright eyes that looked every man fearlessly in the face. A short man he
seemed in her memory, square built and powerful as a bloodhound, of
quick and decisive speech, expecting to be understood before he had half
spoken his thoughts; a man, she fancied, who must be untiring and
violent of temper, inflexible and brave in the execution of his
purpose--a strong contrast outwardly to her tall and graceful lover.
Zoroaster's faultless beauty was a constant delight to her eyes; his
soft deep voice sounded voluptuously passionate when he spoke to
herself, coldly and deliberately dominating when addressing others. He
moved with perfect certainty and assurance of purpose, his whole
presence breathed a high and superior wisdom and untainted nobility of
mind; he looked and acted like a god, like a being from another world,
not subject to mortal passions, nor to the temptations of common
mankind. She gloried in his perfection and in the secret knowledge that
to her alone he was a man simply and utterly dominated by love. As she
thought of him she grew proud and happy in the idea that such a man
should be her lover, and she reproached herself for doubting his
devotion that evening. After all, she had only complained that he had
neglected her--as he had really done, she added. She wondered in her
heart whether other men would have done the same in his place, or
whether this power of coldly disregarding her presence when he was
occupied with a serious matter were not due to a real and unconquerabl