other.

"What is the matter with you?" exclaimed Atossa again, in an anxious,
almost reproachful tone.

"Nitetis!" cried Croesus admonishingly. But the warning came too late;
the cup which her royal lover had given her slipped from her hands and
fell ringing on the floor. All eyes were fixed on the king's features
in anxious suspense. He had sprung from his seat pale as death; his
lips trembled and his fist was clenched. Nitetis looked up at her lover
imploringly, but he was afraid of meeting those wonderful, fascinating
eyes, and turned his head away, saying in a hoarse voice: "Take the
women back to their apartments, Boges. I have seen enough of them--let
us begin our drinking-bout--good-night, my mother; take care how you
nourish vipers with your heart's blood. Sleep well, Egyptian, and pray
to the gods to give you a more equal power of dissembling your feelings.
To-morrow, my friends, we will go out hunting. Here, cup-bearer, give
me some wine! fill the large goblet, but taste it well--yes, well--for
to-day I am afraid of poison; to-day for the first time. Do you hear,
Egyptian? I am afraid of poison! and every child knows--ah-ha--that all
the poison, as well as the medicine comes from Egypt."

Nitetis left the hall,--she hardly knew how,--more staggering than
walking. Boges accompanied her, telling the bearers to make haste.

When they reached the hanging-gardens he gave her up to the care of the
eunuch in attendance, and took his leave, not respectfully as usual,
but chuckling, rubbing his hands, and speaking in an intimate and
confidential tone: "Dream about the handsome Bartja and his Egyptian
lady-love, my white Nile-kitten! Haven't you any message for the
beautiful boy, whose love-story frightened you so terribly? Think
a little. Poor Boges will very gladly play the go-between; the poor
despised Boges wishes you so well--the humble Boges will be so sorry
when he sees the proud palm-tree from Sais cut down. Boges is a prophet;
he foretells you a speedy return home to Egypt, or a quiet bed in the
black earth in Babylon, and the kind Boges wishes you a peaceful sleep.
Farewell, my broken flower, my gay, bright viper, wounded by its own
sting, my pretty fir-cone, fallen from the tall pine-tree!"

"How dare you speak in this impudent manner?" said the indignant
princess.

"Thank you," answered the wretch, smiling.

"I shall complain of your conduct," threatened Nitetis.

"You are very amiable," answered Bo