"Shall I marry her to Zoroaster?"
"No," she answered again, but her laugh was less natural.
"What shall I do with her?" asked the king.
"Strangle her!" replied Atossa, with a little fierce pressure on his hand as he held hers, and without the least hesitation.
"There would be frequent sudden deaths in Persia, if you were king," said Darius.
"It seems to me there are enough slain, as it is," answered the queen. "There are, perhaps, one—or two——"
Suddenly the king's face grew grave, and he dropped her hand.
"Look you!" he said, "I love jesting. But jest not overmuch with me. Do no harm to Nehushta, or I will make an end of your jesting for ever, by sure means. That white throat of yours would look ill with a bow-string about it."
The queen bit her lip. The king seldom spoke to her in earnest, and she was frightened.
On the following day, when she went to the garden, two tall spearmen guarded the entrance, and as she was about to go in, they crossed their lances over the marble door and silently barred the way.