“But these magicians,—is it not useless to strive against them? They look one in the eye and point their fingers and say, ‘You are a dog! Bark!’ And that one gets down on his hands and acts like a dog and barks. Or they will say to you that at a certain hour you must do something they order; and, at that hour, you must do it! They put spells on men, and such men thereafter have no power. Oh, it is dreadful, how at night they call up and talk with the dead. The evil spirits help them.”
“I have seen their spell-working, child. But this I know, as the great teacher, Belteshazzer, said, they can do no harm to those who love truth and serve the true and only God. For He sends mighty spirits of good intent who encamp about the good and who drive away the evil ones. Fear not, child, I dread not this Gaumata and all his evil powers. He shall not harm us. When does your father have liberty so that he might come to us?”
“At sundown he changes the guard. Thereafter he may come.”
The girl went to a window and looked down into the court below. She then clapped her hands softly and motioned to some one below.
“Ah, there he stands now!” she said. “He has looked up and will come here. I will meet him.”
She ran down the narrow stair, and presently her voice and the heavier tones of a man’s voice were heard in conversation. Athura seated herself on a divan in such position that the rays of the setting sun, passing through the open window, rested upon her face and hair, giving to her regal beauty a halo like that of a goddess. A moment later the maid reappeared, followed by a powerfully built man whose helmet and breastplate were resplendent in gold and jewels. His face was strong and bold, the countenance of one accustomed to command, but now it was clouded and sullen.
“This is my father, Gustasp, gracious mistress,” said the maid, presenting him.
The man looked an instant into the eyes of the Princess. Then his hand quickly removed his helmet. Wonder, admiration, recognition, and awe expressed themselves in his countenance. He prostrated himself at her feet. He had known the kingly Cyrus and the high glance of his eye, before which the most rebellious of men had quailed; and here was the image of Cyrus, softened and beautified in the feminine, but, none the less, with his lofty, commanding spirit, gazing upon him from eyes whose glance he could not return.
“Hail, gracious daughter of Cyrus!” he mumbled, striking the rug-covered floor with his forehead. “I await your commands!”
“I have seen you before, Captain Gustasp, when my father lived and Bardya, my brother, and I played in the park at Hamadan. Is it not so? Arise and answer!”