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Updated: May 28, 2025
She stooped down and was going to kiss him, but Cambyses resisted her caresses, saying: "It is rather a doubtful honor, mother, to be one of your favorites. Bartja did not wait to be sent for twice by that treacherous woman, and has disgraced himself by swearing falsely.
"If I had allowed Oroetes' little daughter Parysatis, my youngest favorite, to come out alone with me to-night, this wonderful sight would have been my last; tomorrow there would have been one pair of eyes less in the world." Bartja took Sappho's hand and held it fast, saying, "I fancy one wife will content me as long as I live."
Though none of the Achaemenidae hall really for a moment believed; that Bartja was alive and had seized on the throne, so clear an account of the real person of the usurper was very welcome to them, and they resolved at once to march on Nisaea with the remnant of the army and overthrow the Magi either by craft or force.
We brought him to this house at a slow footpace, and here a violent fever came on, he became delirious, talked all the nonsense that could possibly come into a human brain, and made us so awfully anxious, that the mere remembrance of that time brings the big drops of perspiration to my forehead." Bartja took his friend's hand: "I owe my life to him and Gyges," said he, turning to Darius.
Melitta opened the gate and admitted a youth splendidly apparelled, and with fair curling hair. It was Bartja, and Sappho was so lost in wonder at his beauty, and the Persian dress, to her so strange, that she remained motionless in her hiding-place, her eyes fixed on his face. Just so she had pictured to herself Apollo with the beautiful locks, guiding the sun-chariot.
Phocylides of Miletus, a rough and sarcastic, but observant man, imitated Simonides in his style of writing. But the deformed Hipponax of Ephesus, a poet crushed down by poverty, wrote far bitterer verses than Phocylides. "How beautifully you speak!" exclaimed Bartja.
"Go forward!" cried Bartja. "For what did we leave Persia, if not to behold these remarkable objects?" On arriving at an open kind of square surrounded by workmen's booths, and not far from the city of the dead, confused cries rose among the crowd behind them.
The girls laughed, as if they were but little averse to such a connection, and offered Bartja and Darius rosebuds too. The young men accepted them, gave each a gold piece in return, and were not allowed to leave these beauties until their helmets had been crowned with laurel.
"In that case every difficulty is set aside," cried Rhodopis joyfully. "It is not the marriage itself, but the time that must follow, which causes me uneasiness," answered Croesus. "Do you think then that Bartja . . .?" "From him I fear nothing. He has a pure heart, and has been so long proof against love, that now he has once yielded, he will love long and ardently." "What then do you fear?"
These were retained by the master of the ceremonies, and conducted to a richly- ornamented saloon, where a gigantic wine-bowl standing on a table adorned in the Greek fashion, invited to a drinking-bout. Amasis was seated on a high arm-chair at the head of the table; at his left the youthful Bartja, at his right the aged Croesus.
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