he earliest ages," answered Amasis, "it has been our custom to
display these mummies at banquets, in order to increase the mirth of the
revellers, by reminding them that one must enjoy the time while it is
here. Thou, young butterfly, hast still many a long and joyful year
before thee; but we, Croesus, we old men, must hold by this firmly. Fill
the goblets, cup-bearer, let not one moment of our lives be wasted! Thou
canst drink well, thou golden-haired Persian! Truly the great gods have
endowed thee not only with beautiful eyes, and blooming beauty, but with
a good throat! Let me embrace thee, thou glorious youth, thou rogue!
What thinkest thou Croesus? my daughter Tachot can speak of nothing else
than of this beardless youth, who seems to have quite turned her little
head with his sweet looks and words. Thou needest not to blush, young
madcap! A man such as thou art, may well look at king's daughters; but
wert thou thy father Cyrus himself, I could not allow my Tachot to leave
me for Persia!"

"Father!" whispered the crown-prince Psamtik, interrupting this
conversation. "Father, take care what you say, and remember Phanes." The
king turned a frowning glance on his son; but following his advice, took
much less part in the conversation, which now became more general.

The seat at the banquet-table, occupied by Aristomachus, placed him
nearly opposite to Croesus, on whom, in total silence and without once
indulging in a smile at the king's jests, his eyes had been fixed
from the beginning of the revel. When the Pharaoh ceased to speak, he
accosted Croesus suddenly with the following question: "I would know,
Lydian, whether the snow still covered the mountains, when ye left
Persia."

Smiling, and a little surprised at this strange speech, Croesus
answered: "Most of the Persian mountains were green when we started for
Egypt four months ago; but there are heights in the land of Cambyses
on which, even in the hottest seasons, the snow never melts, and the
glimmer of their white crests we could still perceive, as we descended
into the plains."

The Spartan's face brightened visibly, and Croesus, attracted by this
serious, earnest man, asked his name. "My name is Aristomachus."

"That name seems known to me."

"You were acquainted with many Hellenes, and my name is common among
them."

"Your dialect would bespeak you my opinion a Spartan."

"I was one once."

"And now no more?"

"He who forsakes his native land wit