e tiny
gnats chased each other with lightning quickness in hazy swarms
overhead, in the reflected glow.

Nehushta loved the little open space, for it was there that, a year ago,
she had sent for Zoroaster to come to her that she might tell him she
knew the truth at last. She stood still and listened to the singing of
the birds, gazing upwards at the glowing sky, where the red was fast
turning to purple; she breathed in the warm air and sighed softly;
wishing, as she wished every night, that the sunset might fade to
darkness, and there might be no morning for her any more.

She had lived almost entirely alone since Darius had gone to Shushan;
she avoided Atossa, and she made no effort to see Zoroaster, who was
entirely absorbed by the management of the affairs of the state. In the
king's absence there were no banquets, as there used to be when he was
in the palace, and the two queens were free to lead whatever life seemed
best to them, independently of each other and of the courtiers. Atossa
had chosen to shut herself up in the seclusion of her own apartments,
and Nehushta rarely left her own part of the palace until the evening.
But when the sun was low, she loved to linger among the roses in the
garden, till the bright shield of the moon was high in the east, or till
the faint stars burned in their full splendour, and the nightingales
began to call and trill their melancholy song from end to end of the
sweet valley.

So she stood on this evening, looking up into the sky, and her slaves
waited her pleasure at a little distance. But while she gazed, she heard
quick steps along the walk, and the slave-women sprang aside to let some
one pass. Nehushta turned and found herself face to face with Atossa,
who stood before her, wrapped in a dark mantle, a white veil of Indian
gauze wound about her head, and half-concealing her face. It was a year
since they had met in private, and Nehushta drew herself suddenly to her
height, and the old look of scorn came over her dark features. She would
have asked haughtily what brought Atossa there, but the fair queen was
first in her speech. There was hardly even the affectation of
friendliness in her tones, as she stood there alone and unattended,
facing her enemy.

"I came to ask if you wished to go with me," said Atossa.

"Where? Why should I go with you?"

"I am weary of the palace. I think I will go to Shushan to be nearer the
king. To-night I will rest at the fortress."

Neh