in a way peculiar to herself, but it was love, nevertheless,--and
she had no idea of wreaking her disappointment upon the object on which
she had set her heart. As a logical consequence, she determined to turn
all her anger against Nehushta, and she pictured to herself the
delicious pleasure of torturing the young princess's jealousy to
desperation. To convince Nehushta that Zoroaster was deceiving her, and
really loved herself, the queen; to force Zoroaster into some position
where he must either silently let Nehushta believe that he was attached
to Atossa, or, as an alternative, betray the king's secrets by speaking
the truth; to let Nehushta's vanity be flattered by the king's
admiration,--nay, even to force her into a marriage with Darius, and
then by suffering her again to fall into her first love for Zoroaster,
bring her to a public disgrace by suddenly unmasking her to the king--to
accomplish these things surely and quickly, reserving for herself the
final delight of scoffing at her worsted rival--all this seemed to
Atossa to constitute a plan at once worthy of her profound and scheming
intelligence, and most sweetly satisfactory to her injured vanity and
rejected love.

It would be hard for her to see Nehushta married to the king, and
occupying the position of chief favourite even for a time. But the
triumph would be the sweeter when Nehushta was finally overthrown, and
meanwhile there would be much daily delight in tormenting the princess's
jealousy. Chance, or rather the cunning of her Greek tirewoman, had
thrown a weapon in her way which could easily be turned into an
instrument of torture, and as she sat before her mirror, she twisted and
untwisted the little bit of parchment, and smiled to herself, a sweet
bright smile--and leaned her head back to the pleasant breeze of the
fan.

CHAPTER IX.

The noonday air was hot and dry in the garden of the palace, but in the
graceful marble pavilion there was coolness and the sound of gently
plashing water. Rose-trees and climbing plants screened the sunlight
from the long windows, and gave a soft green tinge to the eight-sided
hall, where a fountain played in the midst, its little jet falling into
a basin hollowed in the floor. On the rippling surface a few
water-lilies swayed gently with the constant motion, anchored by their
long stems to the bottom. All was cool and quiet and restful, and
Nehushta stood looking at the fountain.

She was alone and very