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While, as for the "culte systématique de l'Humanité," I, in my blindness, could not distinguish it from sheer Popery, with M. Comte in the chair of St. Peter, and the names of most of the saints changed. To quote "Faust" again, I found myself saying with Gretchen, "Ungefähr sagt das der Pfarrer auch Nur mit ein bischen andern Worten."
At this moment the master of the huntsmen, one of those who daily ate at the king's table, entered, out of breath from his endeavors to hasten the preparations, and announced that all was ready. "They must wait," was the king's imperious answer. "I am not sure, that we shall hunt at all to-day. Where is Bischen, the captain of police?"
Bartja, however, stood silent, shook his handsome head, waved his friends back, and answered: "I never ran away yet, and I mean to hold my ground to-day. Cowardice is worse than death in my opinion, and I would rather suffer wrong at the hands of others than disgrace myself. There are the soldiers! Well met, Bischen. You've come to arrest me, haven't you?
"Seize him, Bischen, put on his fetters! Take him to prison the traitor, the perjurer! He shall be strangled to-morrow. Death is the penalty of perjury. Your heads for theirs, you guards, if they escape. Not one word more will I hear; away with you, you perjured villains! Boges, go at once to the hanging-gardens and bring the Egyptian to me. Yet no, I won't see that serpent again.
Bischen, the captain, came up to obey the order, but in the same moment Croesus threw himself at the king's feet, touched the floor with his forehead, raised his hands and cried: "May thy days and years bring nought but happiness and prosperity; may Auramazda pour down all the blessings of this life upon thee, and the Amescha cpenta be the guardians of thy throne!
When this has been done, if the criminal is proved guilty and confesses his crime, the smoke of his blood will rise to heaven as a friendly shadow, instead of a darkening cloud, and thou wilt have earned the fame of a just judge instead of deserving the divine judgments." Cambyses listened in silence, made a sign to Bischen to retire, and commanded Boges to repeat his accusation.
If they didn't die of it, it wasn't "real" tuberculosis. Now we have changed all that, and have even begun to go to the opposite extreme, of declaring with the German experts, "Jeder Mann ist am ende ein bischen tuberkulöse." Our first suspicion of it came from the records of that gruesome, but pricelessly valuable, treasure-house of solid facts in pathology the post-mortem room, the dead-house.
"Not so much chatter, small one," he said, unsmilingly. "This pretense, it is not necessary between you and me. So. You are ein bischen blasz, nicht? A little pale? You have not been ill, Dawn?" "Ill? Never felt more chipper in my life," I made flippant answer, "and I adore these people who are forever telling one how unusually thin, or pale, or scrawny one is looking."
Wait one moment, till I have said good-bye to my friends." Bischen, the officer he spoke to, was one of Cyrus's old captains; he had given Bartja his first lessons in shooting and throwing the spear, had fought by his side in the war with the Tapuri, and loved him as if he were his own son.
Listen, Bischen; if we really should be executed, go to the Magi, the Chaldwans, and Nebenchari the Egyptian, and tell them they had better not study the stars any longer, for that those very stars had proved themselves liars and deceivers to Darius." "Yes," interrupted Araspes, "I always said that dreams were the only real prophecies.
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