hta?" inquired
Atossa, raising her delicate eyebrows, with a sweet smile.

"You will not need to improve her appearance in order that she may find
favour in my eyes," answered Darius, laughing. "But the jest is good.
You would rather send her an Indian snake than an ornament."

"Yes," returned the queen, who understood the king's strange character
better than any one. "You cannot in honesty expect me not to hate a
woman whom you think more beautiful than me! It would hardly be natural.
It is unfortunate that she should prefer the sober Persian captain to
the king himself."

"It is unfortunate--yes--fortunate for you, however."

"I mean, it will chafe sadly upon you when you have married her," said
Atossa, calmly.

Darius raised the goblet he still held and setting it to his lips drank
it at a draught. As he replaced it on the table, Atossa rose swiftly,
and with her own hands refilled it from a golden ewer. The wine was of
Shiraz, dark and sweet and strong. The king took her small white hand in
his, as she stood beside him, and looked at it.

"It is a beautiful hand," he said. "Nehushta's fingers are a trifle
shorter than yours--a little more pointed--a little less grasping.
Shall I marry Nehushta, or not?" He looked up as he asked the question,
and he laughed.

"No," answered Atossa, laughing too.

"Shall I marry her to Zoroaster?"

"No," she answered again, but her laugh was less natural.

"What shall I do with her?" asked the king.

"Strangle her!" replied Atossa, with a little fierce pressure on his
hand as he held hers, and without the least hesitation.

"There would be frequent sudden deaths in Persia, if you were king,"
said Darius.

"It seems to me there are enough slain, as it is," answered the queen.
"There are, perhaps, one--or two----"

Suddenly the king's face grew grave, and he dropped her hand.

"Look you!" he said, "I love jesting. But jest not overmuch with me. Do
no harm to Nehushta, or I will make an end of your jesting for ever, by
sure means. That white throat of yours would look ill with a bow-string
about it."

The queen bit her lip. The king seldom spoke to her in earnest, and she
was frightened.

On the following day, when she went to the garden, two tall spearmen
guarded the entrance, and as she was about to go in, they crossed their
lances over the marble door and silently barred the way.

CHAPTER X.

Atossa started back in pure astonishment and stared for a