k no notice of the compliment, but it had its
desired effect, for she changed the tone of her talk a little, speaking
more seriously.

"Where is she? I will go and see her," she said.

"She rested last night in the upper chambers in the southern part of the
palace. Thy servant will bid her come if it be thy desire."

"Presently, presently," answered the queen. "It is yet early, and she
was doubtless weary of the journey."

There was a pause. Zoroaster looked down at the beautiful queen as she
sat beside him, and wondered whether she had changed; and as he gazed,
he fell to comparing her beauty with Nehushta's, and his glance grew
more intent than he had meant it should be, so that Atossa looked up
suddenly and met his eyes resting on her face.

"It is long since we have met, Zoroaster," she said quickly. "Tell me of
your life in that wild fortress. You have prospered in your profession
of arms--you wear the royal chain." She put up her hand and touched the
links as though to feel them. "Indeed it is very like the chain Darius
wore when he went to Babylon the other day." She paused a moment as
though trying to recall something; then continued: "Yes--now I think of
it, he had no chain when he came back. It is his--of course--why has he
given it to you?" Her tones had a tinge of uncertainty in the
question,--half imperious, as demanding an answer, half persuading, as
though not sure the answer would be given. Zoroaster remembered that
intonation of her sweet voice, and he smiled in his beard.

"Indeed," he answered, "the Great King who liveth for ever, put this
chain about my neck with his own hands last night, when he halted by the
roadside, as a reward, I presume, for certain qualities he believeth his
servant Zoroaster to possess."

"Qualities--what qualities?"

"Nay, the queen cannot expect me to sing faithfully my own praises.
Nevertheless, I am ready to die for the Great King. He knoweth that I
am. May he live for ever!"

"It may be that one of the qualities was the successful performance of
the extremely difficult task you have lately accomplished," said Atossa,
with a touch of scorn.

"A task?" repeated Zoroaster.

"Yes--have you not brought a handful of Hebrew women all the way from
Ecbatana to Shushan, through numberless dangers and difficulties, safe
and sound, and so carefully prudent of their comfort that they are not
even weary, nor have they once hungered or thirsted by the way, nor lost
the sm