felt
in the palace, and though he was never known to be angry with any one,
he was more feared than the fierce king himself, for his calm clear eyes
were hard to meet and the words that fell from his lips had in them the
ring of fate. Moreover, he was known and his power was dreaded from one
end of the kingdom to the other, and his name was like the king's
signet, which sealed all things, and there was no appeal.

Upon a fair morning in the spring-time, when the sun was shining outside
upon the roses still wet with dew, the king sat in an inner hall, half
lying upon a broad couch, on which the warm rays of the sun fell through
an upper window. He was watching with absorbed attention the tricks of
an Indian juggler who had lately arrived at the court, and whom he had
summoned that morning to amuse a leisure hour, for when the king was not
actively engaged in business, or fighting, he loved some amusement,
being of a restless temper and mind that needed constant occupation.

Atossa sat near him, upon a carved chair, turning over and over in her
fingers a string of pearls as she gazed at the performances of the
juggler. Two spearmen, clad in blue and scarlet and gold, stood
motionless by the door, and Darius and Atossa watched the sleight-handed
Indian alone.

The man tossed a knife into the air and caught it, then two, then three,
increasing the number in rapid succession till a score of bright blades
made a shining circle in the air as he quickly tossed them up and passed
them from hand to hand and tossed them again. Darius laughed at the
man's skill, and looked up at the queen.

"You remind me of that fellow," said Darius.

"The king is very gracious to his handmaiden," answered Atossa, smiling,
"I think I am less skilful, but more fair."

"You are fairer, it is true," returned the king; "but as for your skill,
I know not. You seem always to be playing with knives, but you never
wound yourself any more than he does."

The queen looked keenly at Darius, but her lips smiled gently. The
thought crossed her mind that the king perhaps knew something of what
had passed between her and Nehushta nearly a year before, with regard to
a certain Indian dagger. The knives the juggler tossed in the air
reminded her of it by their shape. But the king laughed gaily and she
answered without hesitation:

"I would it were true, for then I could be not only the king's wife, but
the king's juggler!"

"I meant not so," laughed Dar