He held out to her a bundle of dark clothing. The girl withdrew to an adjoining chamber and soon appeared in the uniform of a Persian foot-soldier.
“Your disguise is excellent,” exclaimed Zopyrus delightedly, “now let us hasten,” and with a brief expression of gratitude to Phædime for her share in the escape, he and Ladice took a hasty departure.
Only the glowing embers of camp-fires remained. The flickering deceptive shadows that had annoyed Zopyrus in his approach to the harem-tent had disappeared, and in their stead the encampment lay around the fugitives in the tranquil light of a full moon, the white tents gleaming like snow-covered hillocks. Already the Persian felt that this omen presaged success. They threaded the narrow alleys which separated the tents in silence so as not to betray their presence, and arrived without mishap at an intersection of alleys, about thirty yards from the tent of Mardonius.
“Let us turn to the left here,” whispered Zopyrus, “and thus avoid passing Mardonius’ tent.”
Scarcely had the words escaped his lips when the sound of footsteps and low talking broke the silence.
“What is your hurry? Why will you not abide the night with Mardonius till we decide whether or not it is advisable to attempt to cut off the Greek reinforcements?” questioned the voice of Asopodorus.
Then to the horror of the fugitives, the voice of Artabazus made answer.
“Tomorrow will be time enough for that. I am weary of consultations of war, and who knows if I be living tomorrow at this time! I have a fair Greek captive who will this night help me to forget the dangers of the morrow, and to her I now go despite my promises to await the close of battle.”
It was now too late to turn without arousing the suspicion of the approaching Artabazus. Zopyrus could feel the trembling hand of the girl upon his arm.
“Have courage,” he whispered, “and say not a word.”