ne, and a
Persian. Give him up that he may not abandon thee!"

"But how can I, grandmother? I have sworn to be faithful to him for
ever."

"Oh, children! Ye play with eternity as if it were but a passing moment!
I could blame thee for thus plighting thy troth, but I rejoice that thou
regardest the oath as binding. I detest the blasphemous proverb: 'Zeus
pays no heed to lovers' oaths.' Why should an oath touching the best and
holiest feelings of humanity be regarded by the Deity, as inferior in
importance to asseverations respecting the trifling questions of mine
and thine? Keep thy promise then,--hold fast thy love, but prepare to
renounce thy lover."

"Never, grandmother! could I ever have loved Bartja, if I had not
trusted him? Just because he is a Persian and holds truth to be the
highest virtue, I may venture to hope that he will remember his oath,
and, notwithstanding those evil customs of the Asiatics, will take and
keep me as his only wife."

"But if he should forget, thy youth will be passed in mourning, and with
an embittered heart..."

"O, dear kind grandmother, pray do not speak of such dreadful things. If
you knew him as well as I do, you would rejoice with me, and would tell
me I was right to believe that the Nile may dry up and the Pyramids
crumble into ruins, before my Bartja can ever deceive me!"

The girl spoke these words with such a joyful, perfect confidence, and
her eyes, though filled with tears, were so brilliant with happiness and
warmth of feeling, that Rhodopis' face grew cheerful too.

Sappho threw her arms again round her grandmother, told her every word
that Bartja had said to her, and ended the long account by exclaiming:
"Oh, grandmother, I am so happy, so very happy, and if you will
come with us to Persia, I shall have nothing more to wish from the
Immortals."

"That will not last long," said Rhodopis. "The gods cast envious glances
at the happiness of mortals; they measure our portion of evil with
lavish hands, and give us but a scanty allowance of good. But now go to
bed, my child, and let us pray together that all may end happily. I met
thee this morning as a child, I part from thee to-night a woman; and,
when thou art a wife, may thy kiss be as joyful as the one thou givest
me now. To-morrow I will talk the matter over with Croesus. He must
decide whether I dare allow thee to await the return of the Persian
prince, or whether I must entreat thee to forget him and become
the