"Beloved!" he answered gravely, "the desire of queens and princes is like the hot wind of the desert, that blasts and scorches where it strikes. It matters little what befalls Sarchedon, if he loses her who has become the jewel of his treasure-house, and the light of his path. With the young prince, to see is too often to covet, and to covet, too surely to possess! It may be, that ere the days of triumph are over, he will have asked you of Arbaces in marriage, and whither shall I go for comfort then, if I am to look nevermore on the only face I love?"
That face showed strangely pale in the wan light of the stars and crescent moon. There was a thrill of deadly fear in the whisper that appealed so piteously for succour and protection.
"Save me, Sarchedon, save me! It would be worse than death. What shall I do? What shall I do?"
He pondered, pressing the hand he held fondly to his eyes and forehead.
"Arbaces would not barter you away for treasure, like a herd of camels or a drove of captives?" he asked, after a pause.
"My father loves me dearly," she answered. "I know he fears to lose me; for he has often said, if I were to vanish from his side, like my mother, he would never wish to come out of his war-chariot alive!"
"She was a daughter of the stars," said Sarchedon abstractedly; "their love is fatal to mortal men! You see, I have learned it all, and yet I care not—I have but you in the world!"
The daughter of the stars, he thought, had surely transmitted her celestial beauty to the girl who now bent fondly over him, and shook her head.
"They say so!" she answered. "But Arbaces is loath to be questioned, and I know not what to think. She may have been the child of a priestess of Baal, espoused to the god. I cannot believe that the stars have come down from their thrones for the love of women in these later days, since the plague of waters in the olden time, before the great tower of Belus was built. I only know I would I had my mother's beauty and my father's fame, and the wealth of the Great Queen, that I might bestow it all on the man I love. You would be rich, Sarchedon, and of high repute; while I should be——very, very happy!"
"Then, if Ninyas sent to ask you of your father," whispered the young warrior, "you would be loath to go and rule over him and his in a palace of gold?"