shta started a
little.

"No!" she answered, almost fiercely. "Why do you say that?"

"Only--he wrote me a little word before he went. I thought you might
like to know he was safe," replied the queen, gently pressing her arm
about Nehushta's slender waist.

"Wrote to you?" repeated the princess, in angry surprise.

"Yes, dearest," answered the queen, looking down in well-feigned
embarrassment. "I would not have told you, only I thought you would wish
to hear of him. If you like, I will read you a part of what he says,"
she added, producing from her bosom the little piece of parchment
carefully rolled together.

It was more than Nehushta could bear. Her olive skin turned suddenly
pale, and she tore herself away from the queen.

"Oh no! no! I will not hear it! Leave me in peace--for your gods' sake,
leave me in peace!"

Atossa drew herself up and stared coldly at Nehushta, as though she were
surprised beyond measure and deeply offended.

"Truly, I need not be told twice to leave you in peace," she said
proudly. "I thought to comfort you, because I saw you were sad--even at
the expense of my own feelings. I will leave you now--but I bear no
malice against you. You are very, very young, and very, very foolish."

Atossa shook her head, thoughtfully, and swept from the pavilion in
stately and offended dignity. But as she walked alone through the
garden, she smiled to herself and softly hummed a merry melody she had
heard from an Egyptian actor on the previous evening. Darius had brought
a company of Egyptians from Babylon, and after the banquet, had
commanded that they should perform their music, and dancing, and
mimicry, for the amusement of the assembled court.

Atossa's sweet voice echoed faintly among the orange trees and the
roses, as she went towards the palace, and the sound of it came
distantly to Nehushta's ears. She stood for a while where the queen had
left her, her face pale and her hands wringing together; and then, with
a sudden impulse, she went and threw herself upon the floor, and buried
her head in the deep, soft cushions. Her hands wandered in the wealth of
her black hair, and her quick, hot tears stained the delicate silk of
the pillows.

How could he? How was it possible? He said he loved her, and now, when
he was sent away for many days, his only thought had been to write to
the queen--not to herself! An agony of jealousy overwhelmed her, and she
could have torn out her very soul, and trampl