"The king is very gracious to his handmaiden," answered Atossa, smiling, "I think I am less skilful, but more fair."
"You are fairer, it is true," returned the king; "but as for your skill, I know not. You seem always to be playing with knives, but you never wound yourself any more than he does."
The queen looked keenly at Darius, but her lips smiled gently. The thought crossed her mind that the king perhaps knew something of what had passed between her and Nehushta nearly a year before, with regard to a certain Indian dagger. The knives the juggler tossed in the air reminded her of it by their shape. But the king laughed gaily and she answered without hesitation:
"I would it were true, for then I could be not only the king's wife, but the king's juggler!"
"I meant not so," laughed Darius. "The two would hardly suit one another."
"And yet, I need more skill than this Indian fellow, to be the king's wife," answered the queen slowly.
"Said I not so?"
"Nay—but you meant not so," replied Atossa, looking down.
"What I say, I mean," he returned. "You need all the fairness of your face to conceal the evil in your heart, as this man needs all his skill in handling those sharp knives, that would cut off his fingers if, unawares, he touched the wrong edge of them."
"I conceal nothing," said the queen, with a light laugh. "The king has a thousand eyes—how should I conceal anything from him?"