“Surely,” said Abdael.
“I see that thou hast some charm which gives thee wisdom above mankind in general. Wilt thou tell me what it is that thus guides thee, and makes thee superior to other men; which, indeed, makes a young soldier the master of a prince who is famous for his craftiness?”
“A father’s counsel,” was the reply.
“And who is thy father?” said the prince.
“A poor peasant of Parthia.”
“And what is this magic counsel of which thou speakest?”
“It lies in few words—do thy duty.”
“Indeed! And is this the simple exposition of a riddle that I could not solve? And yet I feel it to be true. Young man, thy father, however poor, is happy—and may well be the envy of a prince. He can give wise counsel, and he possesses a son who can follow it. I confess that thou and he have this day taught me a lesson: I owe thee something, and I will pay the debt by frankness. Thy father’s advice, and thine own steadfast fidelity have secured thy life, and that of thy companions. There was a poison in that wine, that had proved mortal to him whose lips had tasted it. I say this to encourage thee in thy career of virtue; for however, being a prince, I may seek to destroy my enemies by poison, as is my privilege, I can still perceive virtue and approve of it, in others.”
Abdael departed, and, with his companions, proceeded on his journey. They travelled with great industry, but such were the difficulties they encountered, that their progress was not rapid. They were sustained, however, by hope, and seemed actually to derive energy from the obstacles that beset them. They were usually in health; all their faculties were in full exercise; their limbs and their minds were vigorous and active. They were also cheerful; when there was no pressing occasion for circumspection, the laugh and the joke went round, and they were all the better, that they were excited by that kind of wit which springs from knowledge and experience. Their very adventures and dangers became to them the fruitful sources of pleasing and lively reflections.
It was at the end of a month that Abdael reached the capital. This was a short time for performing the journey, and seldom, if ever, had it been accomplished in so brief a space: but still, he had every reason to suppose that Phalax had arrived before him, and that he was going to a scene rather of humiliation than triumph. He entered the city with a beating heart. His companions, as well as himself, were silent. They went straight to the palace, and found Phalax and his party there. They had arrived about an hour before, and Abdael met them in the hall of entrance, waiting an audience.