t, I
would have told him to come and bid you farewell. He would not have
willingly gone without seeing you--it was my fault. He will return in
twelve days."

Nehushta was silent and bit her lip as the bitter thought arose in her
heart that it was not alone Zoroaster's sudden departure that had pained
her. Then it floated across her mind that the king had purposely sent
away her lover in order that he might himself try to win her heart.

"Why did you send him--and not another?" she asked, without looking up,
and forgetting all formality of speech.

"Because he is the man of all others whom I can trust, and I needed a
faithful messenger," answered Darius, simply.

Nehushta gazed into the king's face searching for some sign there, but
he had spoken earnestly enough.

"I thought--" she began, and then stopped short, blushing crimson.

"You thought," answered Darius, "that I had sent him away never to
return because I desire you for my wife. It was natural, but it was
unjust. I sent him because I was obliged to do so. If you wish it, I
will leave you now, and I will promise you that I will not look upon
your face till Zoroaster returns."

Nehushta looked down and she still blushed. She could hardly believe her
ears.

"Indeed," she faltered, "it were perhaps--best--I mean--" she could not
finish the sentence. Darius rose quietly from his seat:

"Farewell, princess; it shall be as you desire," he said gravely, and
strode towards the door. His face was pale and his lips set tight.

Nehushta hesitated and then, in a moment, she comprehended the whole
nobility of soul of the young king,--a man at whose words the whole land
trembled, who crushed his enemies like empty egg-shells beneath his
feet, and yet who, when he held the woman he loved completely in his
power, refused, even for a moment, to intrude his presence upon her
against her wish.

She sprang from her seat and ran to him, and kneeled on one knee and
took his hand. He did not look at her, but his own hand trembled
violently in hers, and he made as though he would lift her to her feet.

"Nay," she cried, "let not my lord be angry with his handmaiden! Let the
king grant me my request, for he is the king of men and of kings!" In
her sudden emotion she spoke once more in the form of a humble subject
addressing her sovereign.

"Speak, princess," answered Darius. "If it be possible, I will grant
your request."

"I would--" she stopped, and again the generous