"And the light shone all at once!" exclaimed Milza, eagerly. "Trust to it, dear lady—trust to it. A sudden brightness hath ever been a happy omen."
Two baskets, filled with Copaic eels and anchovies, had been deposited near the mouth of the cavern; and with the first blush of morning, the fugitives offered prayers to Phœbus and Pan, and went forth with the baskets on their heads, as if they sought the market. Eudora, in her haste, would have stepped across the springs that bubbled from the rocks; but Milza held her back, saying, "Did you never hear that these brooks are Creüsa's tears? When the unhappy daughter of Erectheus left her infant in this cave to perish, she wept as she departed; and Phœbus, her immortal lover, changed her tears to rills. For this reason, the water has ever been salt to the taste. It is a bad omen to wet the foot in these springs."
Thus warned, Eudora turned aside, and took a more circuitous path.
It happened, fortunately, that the residence of Artaphernes stood behind the temple of Asclepius, at a short distance from Creüsa's Grotto; and they felt assured that no one would think of searching for them within the dwelling of the Persian stranger. They arrived at the gate without question or hindrance; but found it fastened. To their anxious minds, the time they were obliged to wait seemed like an age; but at last the gate was opened, and they preferred a humble request to see Artaphernes. Eudora, being weary of her load, stooped to place the basket of fish on a bench, and her veil accidentally dropped. The porter touched her under the chin, and said, with a rude laugh, "Do you suppose, my pretty dolphin, that Artaphernes buys his own dinner?"
Eudora's eyes flashed fire at this familiarity; but checking her natural impetuosity, she replied, "It was not concerning the fish that I wished to speak to your master. We have business of importance."
The servant gave a significant glance, more insulting than his former freedom. "Oh, yes, business of importance, no doubt," said he; "but do you suppose, my little Nereid, that the servant of the Great King is himself a vender of fish, that he should leave his couch at an hour so early as this?"
Eudora slipped a ring from her finger, and putting it in his hand, said, in a confidential tone, "I am not a fish-woman. I am here in disguise. Go to your master, and conjure him, if he ever had a daughter that he loved, to hear the petition of an orphan, who is in great distress."
The man's deportment immediately changed; and as he walked away, he muttered to himself, "She don't look nor speak like one brought up at the gates; that's certain."
Eudora and Milza remained in the court for a long time, but with far less impatience than they had waited at the gate. At length the servant returned, saying his master was now ready to see them. Eudora followed, in extreme agitation, with her veil folded closely about her; and when they were ushered into the presence of Artaphernes, the embarrassment of her situation deprived her of the power of utterance. With much kindness of voice and manner, the venerable stranger said: "My servant told me that one of you was an orphan, and had somewhat to ask of me."
Eudora replied: "O Persian stranger, I am indeed a lonely orphan, in the power of mine enemies; and I have been warned by a vision to come hither for assistance."