ius. "The two would hardly suit one
another."

"And yet, I need more skill than this Indian fellow, to be the king's
wife," answered the queen slowly.

"Said I not so?"

"Nay--but you meant not so," replied Atossa, looking down.

"What I say, I mean," he returned. "You need all the fairness of your
face to conceal the evil in your heart, as this man needs all his skill
in handling those sharp knives, that would cut off his fingers if,
unawares, he touched the wrong edge of them."

"I conceal nothing," said the queen, with a light laugh. "The king has
a thousand eyes--how should I conceal anything from him?"

"That is a question which I constantly ask myself," answered Darius.
"And yet, I often think I know your thoughts less well than those of the
black girl who fans you when you are hot, and whose attention is
honestly concentrated upon keeping the flies from your face--or of
yonder stolid spearmen at the door, who watch us, and honestly wish they
were kings and queens, to lie all day upon a silken couch, and watch the
tricks of a paid conjurer."

As Darius spoke, the guards he glanced at turned suddenly and faced each
other, standing on each side of the doorway, and brought their heavy
spears to the ground with a ringing noise. In a moment the tall, thin
figure of Zoroaster, in his white robes, appeared between them. He
stopped respectfully at the threshold, waiting for the king to notice
him, for, in spite of his power and high rank, he chose to maintain
rigidly the formalities of the court.

Darius made a sign and the juggler caught his whirling knives, one after
the other, and thrust them into his bag, and withdrew.

"Hail, Zoroaster!" said the king. "Come near and sit beside me, and tell
me your business."

Zoroaster came forward and made a salutation, but he remained standing,
as though the matter on which he came were urgent.

"Hail, king, and live for ever!" he said. "I am a bearer of evil news. A
rider has come speeding from Ecbatana, escaped from the confusion. Media
has revolted, and the king's guards are besieged within the fortress of
Ecbatana."

Darius sat upright upon the edge of his couch; the knotted veins upon
his temples swelled with sudden anger and his brow flushed darkly.

"Doubtless it is Phraortes who has set himself up as king," he said.
Then, suddenly and fiercely, he turned upon Atossa. "Now is your hour
come," he cried in uncontrollable anger. "You shall surely die this day,