“But here,” said Darius, “we saw a number of splendid temples as we came up from the harbor.”
“Oh, yes, we have several.—Ah, there comes Zopyrus; the slaves are carrying a perfect grove of garlands behind him. He’s laughing so heartily, he must have amused himself famously with the flower-girls. Good-morning, my friend. The sad news which fills all Naukratis does not seem to disturb you much.”
“Oh, for anything I care, Amasis may go on living a hundred years yet. But if he dies now, people will have something else to do beside looking after us. When do you set off for Rhodopis’ house, friends?”
“At dusk.”
“Then please, ask her to accept these flowers from me. I never thought I could have been so taken by an old woman before. Every word she says sounds like music, and though she speaks so gravely and wisely it’s as pleasant to the ear as a merry joke. But I shan’t go with you this time, Bartja; I should only be in the way. Darius, what have you made up your mind to do?”
“I don’t want to lose one chance of a conversation with Rhodopis.”
“Well, I don’t blame you. You’re all for learning and knowing everything, and I’m for enjoying. Friends, what do you say to letting me off this evening? You see....”
“I know all about it,” interrupted Bartja laughing: “You’ve only seen the flower-girls by daylight as yet, and you would like to know how they look by lamplight.”
“Yes, that’s it,” said Zopyrus, putting on a grave face. “On that point I am quite as eager after knowledge as Darius.”
“Well, we wish you much pleasure with your three sisters.”