flowing river; and Zoroaster
himself pushed back the lattice and spread a rich carpet before it.
Nehushta took his proffered hand and stepped lightly out, and stood
beside him in the red light. She was veiled, and her purple cloak fell
in long folds to her feet, and she stood motionless, with her back to
the city, looking towards the setting sun.

"Why do we stop here?" she asked suddenly.

"The Great King, may he live for ever, is said not to be in the city,"
answered Zoroaster, "and it would ill become us to enter the palace
before him." He spoke aloud in the Median language that the slaves might
hear him; then he added in Hebrew and in a lower voice, "It would be
scarcely wise, or safe, to enter Shushan when the king is away. Who can
tell what may have happened there in these days? Babylon has rebelled;
the empire is far from settled. All Persia may be on the very point of a
revolt."

"A fitting time indeed for our journey--for me and my women to be
travelling abroad with a score of horsemen for a guard! Why did you
bring me here? How long are we to remain encamped by the roadside,
waiting the pleasure of the populace to let us in, or the convenience of
this new king to return?"

Nehushta turned upon her companion as she spoke, and there was a ring of
mingled scorn and disappointment in her voice. Her dark eyes stated
coldly at Zoroaster from the straight opening between her veils, and
before he could answer, she turned her back upon him and moved a few
steps away, gazing out at the setting sun across the fertile meadows.
The warrior stood still, and a dark flush overspread his face. Then he
turned pale, but whatever were the words that rose to his lips, he did
not speak them, but occupied himself with superintending the pitching of
the women's tents. The other litters were brought, and set down with
their occupants; the long file of camels, some laden with baggage and
provisions, some bearing female slaves, kneeled down to be unloaded upon
the grass, anxiously craning their long necks the while in the direction
of the stream; the tent-pitchers set to work; and at the last another
score of horsemen, who had formed the rear-guard of the caravan,
cantered up and joined their companions who had already dismounted. With
the rapid skill of long practice, all did their share, and in a few
minutes all the immense paraphernalia of a Persian encampment were
spread out and disposed in place for the night. Contrary to the