-IFORNIA 
 PA CRUZ 
 
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HE MOVED NOT THROUGH THE LONG HOURS OF DAY. 
 
 Zoroaster. 
 
THE NOVELS OF 
 F. MARION CRAWFORD 
 
 Marzio's Crucifix 
 Zoroaster 
 
 BY 
 F. MARION CRAWFORD 
 
 WITH FRONTISPIECE 
 
 P. F. COLLIER & SON 
 NEW YORK 
 
 
COPYRIGHT 1887 
 
 COPYRIGHT 1885 
 
 BY F. MARION CRAWFORD 
 
 All Rights Reserved 
 
CHAPTER I 
 
 "THE whole of this modern fabric of existence is a 
 living lie I " cried Marzio Pandolfi, striking his little 
 hammer upon the heavy table with an impatient rap. 
 Then he dropped it and turning on his stool rested 
 one elbow upon the board while he clasped his long, 
 nervous fingers together and stared hard at his hand 
 some apprentice. Gianbattista Bordogni looked up 
 from his work without relinquishing his tools, nodded 
 gravely, stared up at the high window, and then went 
 on hammering gently upon his little chisel, guiding 
 the point carefully among the delicate arabesques 
 traced upon the silver. 
 
 " Yes," he said quietly, after a few seconds, " it is 
 all a lie. But what do you expect, Maestro Marzio ? 
 You might as well talk to a stone wall as preach 
 liberty to these cowards/' 
 
 "Nevertheless, there are some there are half a 
 
 dozen " muttered Marzio, relapsing into sullen 
 
 discontent and slowly turning the body of the chalice 
 beneath the cord stretched by the pedal on which he 
 Vol. 6 A 
 
2 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. I 
 
 pressed his foot. Having brought under his hand a 
 round boss which was to become the head of a cherub 
 under his chisel, he rubbed his fingers over the smooth 
 silver, mechanically, while he contemplated the red 
 wax model before him. Then there was silence for a 
 space, broken only by the quick, irregular striking of 
 the two little hammers upon the heads of the chisels. 
 
 Maestro Marzio Pandolfi was a skilled workman 
 and an artist. He was one of the last of those 
 workers in metals who once sent their masterpieces 
 from Eome to the great cathedrals of the world ; one 
 of the last of the artistic descendants of Caradosso, of 
 Benvenuto Cellini, of Claude Ballin, and of all their 
 successors ; one of those men of rare talent who unite 
 the imagination of the artist with the executive skill 
 of the practised workman. They are hard to find 
 nowadays. Of all the twenty chisellers of various 
 ages who hammered from morning till night in the 
 rooms outside, one only Gianbattista Bordogni 
 had been thought worthy by his master to share the 
 privacy of the inner studio. The lad had talent/said 
 Maestro Marzio, and, what was more, the lad had 
 ideas ideas about life, about the future of Italy, 
 about the future of the world's society. Marzio found 
 in him a pupil, an artist and a follower of his own 
 political creed. 
 
 It was a small room in which they worked together. 
 
OHAP. I MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX 3 
 
 Plain wooden shelves lined two of the walls from 
 the floor to the ceiling. The third was occupied by 
 tables and a door, and in the fourth high grated win 
 dows were situated, from which the clear light fell 
 upon the long bench before which the two men sat 
 upon high stools. Upon the shelves were numerous 
 models in red wax, of chalices, monstrances, marvel 
 lous ewers and embossed basins for the ablution of the 
 priests' hands, crucifixes, crowns, palm and olive 
 branches in a word, models of all those things which 
 pertain to the service and decoration of the church, 
 and upon which it has been the privilege of the silver 
 smith to expend his art and labour from time im 
 memorial until the present day. There were some 
 few casts in plaster, but almost all were of that deep 
 red, strong-smelling wax which is the most fit medium 
 for the temporary expression and study of very fine 
 and intricate designs. There is something in the very 
 colour which, to one acquainted with the art, suggests 
 beautiful fancies. It is the red of the Pompeian 
 walls, and the rich tint seems to call up the matchless 
 traceries of the ancients. Old chisellers say that no 
 one can model anything wholly bad in red wax, and 
 there is truth in the saying. The material is old 
 the older the better ; it has passed under the hand of 
 the artist again and again ; it has taken form, served 
 for the model of a lasting work, been kneaded together 
 
4 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHA*. I 
 
 in a lump, been worked over and over by the box 
 wood tool. The workman feels, that it has absorbed 
 some of the qualities of the master's genius, and 
 touches it with the certainty that its stiff substance 
 will yield new forms of beauty in his fingers, render 
 ing up some of its latent capacity of shape at each 
 pressure and twist of the deftly-handled instrument. 
 
 At the extremities of the long bench huge iron vices 
 were fixed by staples that ran into the ground. In 
 one of these was fastened the long curved tool which 
 serves to beat out the bosses of hollow and small- 
 necked vessels. Each of the workmen had a pedal 
 beneath his foot from which a soft cord ascended, 
 passed through the table, and pressed the round object 
 on which he was working upon a thick leather cushion, 
 enabling him to hold it tightly in its place, or by 
 lifting his foot to turn it to a new position. In pots 
 full of sand were stuck hundreds of tiny chisels, so 
 that the workmen could select at a glance the exact 
 form of tool needful for the moment. Two or three 
 half balls of heavy stone stood in leathern collars, 
 their flat surfaces upwards and covered with a brown 
 composition of pitch and beeswax an inch thick, in 
 which small pieces of silver were firmly embedded in 
 position to be chiselled. 
 
 The workshop was pervaded by a smell of wax and 
 pitch, mingled with the curious undefinable odour 
 
OHAP. I MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 5 
 
 exhaled from steel tools in constant use, and supple 
 mented by the fumes of Marzio's pipe. The red 
 bricks in the portion of the floor where the two men 
 sat were rubbed into hollows, but the dust had been 
 allowed to accumulate freely in the rest of the room, 
 and the dark corners were full of cobwebs which had 
 all the air of being inhabited by spiders of formidable 
 dimensions. 
 
 Marzio Pandolfi, who bent over his work and busily 
 plied his little hammer during the interval of silence 
 which followed his apprentice's last remark, was the 
 sole owner and master of the establishment. He was 
 forty years of age, thin and dark. His black hair was 
 turning grey at the temples, and though not long, hung 
 forward over his knitted eyebrows in disorderly locks. 
 He had a strange face. His head, broad enough at 
 the level of the eyes, rose to a high prominence 
 towards the back, while his forehead, which projected 
 forward at the heavy brows, sloped backwards in the 
 direction of the summit. The large black eyes were 
 deep and hollow, and there were broad rings of dark 
 colour around them, so that they seemed strangely 
 thrown into relief above the sunken, colourless cheeks. 
 Marzio's nose was long and pointed, very straight, and 
 descending so suddenly from the forehead as to make 
 an angle with the latter the reverse of the one most 
 common in human faces. Seen in profile, the browa 
 
6 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. I 
 
 formed the most prominent point, and the line of the 
 head ran back above, while the line of the nose fell 
 inward from the perpendicular down to the small 
 curved nostrils. The short black moustache was thick 
 enough to hide the lips, though deep furrows sur 
 rounded the mouth and terminated in a very promi 
 nent but pointed chin. The whole face expressed 
 unusual qualities and defects ; the gifts of the artist, 
 the tenacity of the workman and the small astuteness 
 of the plebeian were mingled with an appearance of 
 something which was not precisely ideality, but which 
 might easily be fanaticism. 
 
 Marzio was tall and very thin. His limbs seemed 
 to move rather by the impulse of a nervous current 
 within than by any development of normal force in 
 the muscles, and his long and slender fingers, naturally 
 yellow and discoloured by the use of tools and the 
 handling of cements, might have been parts of a 
 machine, for they had none of that look of humanity 
 which one seeks in the hand, and by which one in 
 stinctively judges the character. He was dressed in a 
 woollen blouse, which hung in odd folds about his 
 emaciated frame, but which betrayed the roundness of 
 his shoulders, and the extreme length of his arms. 
 His apprentice, Gianbattista Bordogni, wore the same 
 costume ; but beyond his clothing he bore no trace of 
 any resemblance to his master. He was not a bad 
 
CHAP. I MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 7 
 
 type of the young Koman of his class at five-and 
 twenty years of age. His thick black hair curled aL 
 over his head, from his low forehead to the back of 
 his neck, and his head was of a good shape, full and 
 round, broad over the brows and high above the orifice 
 of the ear. His eyes were brown and not over large, 
 but well set, and his nose was slightly aquiline, while 
 his delicate black moustache showed the pleasant 
 curve of his even lips. There was colour in hig 
 cheeks, too that rich colour which dark men some 
 times have in their youth. He was of middle height, 
 strong and compactly built, with large, well-made 
 hands that seemed to have more power in them, if 
 less subtle skill, than those of Maestro Marzio. 
 
 "Kemember what I told you about the second in 
 dentation of the acanthus," said the elder workman, 
 without looking round ; "'a light, light hand no holes 
 in this work !" 
 
 Gianbattista murmured a sort of assent, which 
 showed that the warning was not wanted. He was 
 intent upon the delicate operation he was performing. 
 Again the hammers beat irregularly. 
 
 " The more I think of it," said Marzio after the 
 pause, " the more I am beside myself. To think that 
 you and I should be nailed to our stools here, week 
 days and feast-days, to finish a piece of work for a 
 scoundrelly priest " 
 
8 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. I 
 
 "A cardinal," suggested Gianbattista. 
 
 " Well ! What difference is there ? He is a priest, 
 I suppose a creature who dresses himself up like a 
 pulcinella before his altar to " 
 
 " Softly ! " ejaculated the young man, looking round 
 to see whether the door was closed. 
 
 " Why softly ? " asked the other angrily, though his 
 annoyance did not seem to communicate itself to the 
 chisel he held in his hand, and which continued its 
 work as delicately as though its master were humming 
 a pastoral " Why softly ? An apoplexy on your 
 softness ! The papers speak as loudly as they please 
 why should I hold my tongue ? A dog-butcher of 
 a priest !" 
 
 " Well," answered Gianbattista in a meditative tone, 
 as he selected another chisel, "he has the money to 
 pay for what he orders. If he had not, we would not 
 work for him, I suppose." 
 
 " If we had the money, you mean," retorted Marzio. 
 " Why the devil should he have money rather than 
 we ? Why don't you answer ? Why should he wear 
 silk stockings red silk stockings, the animal ? Why 
 should he want a silver ewer and basin to wash his 
 hands at his mass ? Why would not an earthen one 
 do as well, such as I use ? Why don't you answer ? 
 Eh?" 
 
 " Why should Prince Borghese live in a palace and 
 
CHAP. I MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 9 
 
 keep scores of horses ? " inquired the young man 
 calmly. 
 
 " Ay why should he ? Is there any known reason 
 why he should ? Am I not a man as well as he ? 
 Are you not a man you young donkey ? I hate to 
 think that we, who are artists, who can work when 
 we are put to it, have to slave for such fellows as 
 that mumbling priests, bloated princes, a pack of 
 fools who are incapable of an idea ! An idea ! What 
 am I saying ? Who have not the common intelli 
 gence of a cabbage-seller in the street ! And look at 
 the work we give them the creation of our minds, 
 the labour of our hands " 
 
 "They give us their money in return," observed 
 Gianbattista. "The ancients, whom you are so fond 
 of talking about, used to get their work done by slaves 
 chained to the bench " 
 
 " Yes ! And it has taken us two thousand years to 
 get to the point we have reached ! Two thousand 
 years and what is it ? Are we any better than 
 slaves, except that we work better?" 
 
 " I doubt whether we work better." 
 
 " What is the matter with you this morning ? " cried 
 Marzio. " Have you been sneaking into some church 
 on your way here ? Pah ! You smell of the sacristy ! 
 Has Paolo been here ? Oh, to think that a brother of 
 mine should be a priest I It is not to be believed 1 " 
 
10 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. I 
 
 " It is the irony of fate. Moreover, he gets you 
 plenty of orders/' 
 
 " Yes, and no doubt he takes his percentage on the 
 price. He had a new cloak last month, and he asked 
 me to make him a pair of silver buckles for his shoes. 
 Pretty, that an artist's brother with silver buckles ! 
 I told him to go to the devil, his father, for his orna 
 ments. Why does he not steal an old pair from the 
 cardinal, his bondmaster ? Not good enough, I sup 
 pose beast !" 
 
 Marzio laid aside his hammer and chisel, and lit 
 the earthen pipe with the rough wooden stem that lay 
 beside him. Then he examined the beautiful head of 
 the angel he had been making upon the body of the 
 ewer. He touched it lovingly, loosed the cord, and 
 lifted the piece from the pad, turning it towards ths 
 light and searching critically for any defect in the 
 modelling of the little face. He replaced it on the 
 table, and selecting a very fine -pointed punch, laid 
 down his pipe for a moment and set about putting the 
 tiny pupils into the eyes. Two touches were enough. 
 He began smoking again, and contemplated what he 
 had done. It was the body of a large silver ewer of 
 which Gianbattista was ornamenting the neck and 
 mouth, which were of a separate piece. Amongst the 
 intricate arabesques little angels' heads were embossed, 
 and on one side a group of cherubs was bearing a 
 
OHAP. I MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 11 
 
 " monstrance " with the sacred Host through silver 
 clouds. A hackneyed subject on church vessels, but 
 which had taken wonderful beauty under the skilled 
 fingers of the artist, who sat cursing the priest who 
 was to use it, while expending his best talents on its 
 perfections. 
 
 " It is not bad," he said rather doubtfully. " Come 
 and look at it, Tista," he added. The young man left 
 his place and came and bent over his master's shoulder, 
 examining the piece with admiration. It was charac 
 teristic of Marzio that he asked his apprentice's opinion. 
 He was an artist, and had the chief peculiarities of 
 artists namely, diffidence concerning what he had 
 done, and impatience of the criticism of others, to 
 gether with a strong desire to show his work as soon 
 as it was presentable. 
 
 " It is a masterpiece ! " exclaimed Gianbattista. 
 " What detail ! I shall never be able to finish any 
 thing like that cherub's face !" 
 
 " Do you think it is as good as the one I made last 
 year, Tista ? " 
 
 " Better," returned the young man confidently. " It 
 is the best you have ever made. I am quite sure of 
 it. You should always work when you are in a bad 
 humour ; you are so successful ! " 
 
 "Bad humour! I am always in a bad humour/' 
 grumbled Marzio, rising and walking about the brick 
 
12 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. I 
 
 floor, while he puffed clouds of acrid smoke from his 
 coarse pipe. " There is enough in this world to keep 
 a man in a bad humour all his life." 
 
 " I might say that," answered Gianbattista, turning 
 round on his stool and watching his master's angular 
 movements as he rapidly paced the room. " I might 
 abuse fate but you ! You are rich, married, a father, 
 a great artist ! " 
 
 " What stuff ! " interrupted Marzio, standing still 
 with his long legs apart, and folding his arms as he 
 spoke through his teeth, between which he still held 
 his pipe. " Eich ? Yes able to have a good coat 
 for feast-days, meat when I want it, and my brother's 
 company when I don't want it for a luxury, you 
 know ! Able to take my wife to Frascati on the last 
 Thursday of October as a great holiday. My wife, 
 too ! A creature of beads and saints and little books 
 with crosses on them who would leer at a friar 
 through the grating of a confessional, and who makes 
 the house hideous with her howling if I choose to eat 
 a bit of pork on a Friday ! A good wife indeed ! A 
 jewel of a wife, and an apoplexy on all such jewels ! 
 A nice wife, who has a face like a head from a tomb 
 stone in the Campo Varano for her husband, and who 
 has brought up her daughter to believe that her father 
 is condemned to everlasting flames because he hates 
 cod-fish salt cod-fish soaked in water ! A wife who 
 
OHAP. I MARZIO' S CRUCIFIX 13 
 
 sticks images in the lining of my hat to convert me, 
 and sprinkles holy water on me when she thinks 
 I am asleep, but I caught her at that the other 
 night " 
 
 "Indeed, they say the devil does not like holy 
 water," remarked Gianbattista, laughing. 
 
 " And you want to marry my daughter, you young 
 fool," continued Marzio, not heeding the interruption. 
 "You do. I will tell you what she is like. My 
 daughter yes ! she has fine eyes, but she has the 
 tongue of the " 
 
 " Of her father," suggested Gianbattista, suddenly 
 frowning. 
 
 "Yes of her father, without her father's sense," 
 cried Marzio angrily. " With her eyes, those fine eyes ! 
 those eyes ! you want to marry her. If you wish 
 to take her away, you may, and good riddance. I 
 want no daughter ; there are too many women in the 
 world already. They and the priests do all the harm 
 between them, because the priests know how to think 
 too well, and women never think at all. I wish you 
 good luck of your marriage and of your wife. If you 
 were my son you would never have thought of getting 
 married. The mere idea of it made you send your 
 chisel through a cherub's eye last week and cost an 
 hour's time for repairing. Is that the way to look at 
 the great question of humanity ? Ah ! if I were only 
 
14 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. I 
 
 a deputy in the Chambers, I would teach you the 
 philosophy of all that rubbish ! " 
 
 " I thought you said the other day that you would 
 not have any deputies at all," observed the apprentice, 
 playing with his hammer. 
 
 " Such as these are no ! A few of them I would 
 put into the acid bath, as I would a casting, to clean 
 them before chiselling them down. They might be 
 good for something then. You must begin by knock 
 ing down, boy, if you want to build up. You must 
 knock down everything, raze the existing system to 
 the ground, and upon the place where it stood shall 
 rise the mighty temple of immortal liberty." 
 
 " And who will buy your chalices and monstrances 
 under the new order of things ? " inquired Gianbattista 
 coldly. 
 
 " The foreign market," returned Marzio. " Italy 
 shall be herself again, as she was in the days of 
 Michael Angelo ; of Leonardo, who died in the arms 
 of a king ; of Cellini, who shot a prince from the walls 
 of Saint Angelo. Italy shall be great, shall mono 
 polise the trade, the art, the greatness of all creation I" 
 
 " A lucrative monopoly !" exclaimed the young 
 man. 
 
 " Monopolies ! There shall be no monopolies ! 
 The free artisan shall sell what he can make and 
 buy what he pleases. The priests shall be turned 
 
CHAP. I MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 15 
 
 out in chain gangs and build roads for our conveni 
 ence, and the superfluous females shall all be deported 
 to the glorious colony of Massowah ! If I could but 
 be absolute master of this country for a week I could 
 do much." 
 
 " I have no doubt of it," answered Gianbattista, with 
 a quiet smile. 
 
 " I should think not," assented Marzio proudly ; 
 then catching sight of the expression on the young 
 man's face, he turned sharply upon him. " You are 
 mocking me, you good-for-nothing !" he cried angrily. 
 "You are laughing at me, at your master, you villain, 
 you wretch, you sickly hound, you priest-ridden worm ! 
 It is intolerable ! It is the first time you have ever 
 dared; do you think I am going to allow you to 
 think for yourself after all the pains I have taken to 
 educate you, to teach you my art, you ungrateful 
 reptile ?" 
 
 " If you were not such a great artist I would have 
 left you long ago," answered the apprentice. " Besides, 
 I believe in your principles. It is your expression of 
 them that makes me laugh now and then ; I think you 
 go too far sometimes ! " 
 
 " As if any one had ever gone far enough !" ex 
 claimed Marzio, somewhat pacified, for his moods were 
 very quick. " Since there are still men who are richer 
 than others, it is a sign that we have not gone to the 
 
16 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. I 
 
 end to the great end in which we believe. I am 
 sure you believe in it too, Tista, don't you ?" 
 
 " Oh yes in the end certainly. Do not let us 
 quarrel about the means, Maestro Marzio. I must do 
 another leaf before dinner." 
 
 "I will get in another cherub's nose," said his 
 master, preparing to relight his pipe for a whiff 
 before going to work again. " Body of a dog, these 
 priests !" he grumbled, as he attacked the next angel 
 on the ewer with matchless dexterity and steadiness. 
 A long pause followed the animated discourse of the 
 chiseller. Both men were intent upon their work, 
 alternately holding their breath for the delicate strokes, 
 and breathing more freely as the chisel reached the 
 end of each tiny curva 
 
 " I think you said a little while ago that I might 
 marry Lucia," observed Gianbattista, without looking 
 up, " that is, if I would take her away !" 
 
 "And if you take her away," retorted the other, 
 "where will you get bread ?" 
 
 "Where I get it now. I could live somewhere 
 else and come here to work ; it seems simple enough." 
 
 " It seems simple, but it is not," replied Marzio. 
 " Perhaps you could try and get Paolo's commissions 
 away from me, and then set up a studio for yourself; 
 but I doubt whether you could succeed. I am not old 
 yet, nor blind, nor shaky, thank God !" 
 
CHAP. I MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 17 
 
 " I did not catch the last words/' said Gianbattista, 
 hiding his smile over his work. 
 
 " I said I was not old, nor broken down yet, thanks 
 to my strength," growled the chiseller ; " you will not 
 steal my commissions yet awhile. What is the matter 
 with you to-day ? You find fault with half I say, and 
 the other half you do not hear at all. You seem to 
 have lost your head, Tista. Be steady over those 
 acanthus leaves ; everybody thinks an acanthus leaf is 
 the easiest thing in the world, whereas it is one of the 
 most difficult before you get to figures. Most chisellers 
 seem to copy their acanthus leaves from the cabbage 
 in their soup. They work as though they had never 
 seen the plant growing. When the Greeks began to 
 carve Corinthian capitals, they must have worked from 
 real leaves, as I taught you to model when you were a 
 boy. Few things are harder than a good acanthus leaf." 
 
 " I should think women could do the delicate part 
 of our work very well," said the apprentice, returning 
 to the subject from which Marzio was evidently trying 
 to lead him. " Lucia has such very clever fingers." 
 
 "Idiot!" muttered Marzio between his teeth, not 
 deigning to make any further answer. 
 
 The distant boom of a gun broke upon the silence 
 that followed, and immediately the bells of all the 
 neighbouring churches rang out in quick succession. 
 It was midday. 
 
18 MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX OHAP. I 
 
 " I did not expect to finish that nose," said Marzio, 
 rising from his stool. He was a punctual man, who 
 exacted punctuality in others, and in spite of his thin 
 frame and nervous ways, he loved his dinner. In five 
 minutes all the men had left the workshop, and Marzio 
 and his apprentice stood in the street, the former lock 
 ing the heavy door with a lettered padlock, while the 
 younger man sniffed the fresh spring air that blew from 
 the west out of the square of San Carlo a Catenari 
 down the Via dei Falegnami in which the establish 
 ment of the silver-chiseller was situated. 
 
 As Marzio fumbled with the fastenings of the door, 
 two women came up and stopped. Marzio had his 
 back turned, and Gianbattista touched his hat in 
 silence. The younger of the two was a stout, black- 
 haired woman of eight-and- thirty years, dressed in a 
 costume of dark green cloth, which fitted very closely 
 to her exuberantly-developed bust, and was somewhat 
 too elaborately trimmed with imitation of jet and black 
 ribands. A high bonnet, decorated with a bunch of 
 purple glass grapes and dark green leaves, surmounted 
 the lady's massive head, and though carefully put on 
 and neatly tied, seemed too small for the wearer. Her 
 ears were adorned by long gold earrings, in each of 
 which were three large garnets, and these trinkets 
 dangled outside and over the riband of the bonnet, 
 which passed under her chin. In her large hands, 
 
 # 
 
CHAP. I MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 19 
 
 covered with tight black gloves, she carried a dark red 
 parasol and a somewhat shabby little black leather bag 
 with steel fastenings. The stout lady's face was of the 
 type common among the Koman women of the lower 
 class very broad and heavy, of a creamy white com 
 plexion, the upper lip shaded by a dark fringe of down, 
 and the deep sleepy eyes surmounted by heavy straight 
 eyebrows. Her hair, brought forward from under her 
 bonnet, made smooth waves upon her low forehead and 
 reappeared in thick coils at the back of her neck. Her 
 nose was relatively small, but too thick and broad at 
 the nostrils, although it departed but little from the 
 straight line of the classic model. Altogether the 
 Signora Pandolfi, christened Maria Luisa, and wife to 
 Marzio the silver-chiseller, was a portly and pompous- 
 looking person, who wore an air of knowing her 
 position, and of being sure to maintain it. Neverthe 
 less, there was a kindly expression in her fat face, and 
 if her eyes looked sleepy they did not look dishonest. 
 
 Signora Pandolfi's companion was her old maid- 
 of-all-work, Assunta, commonly called Suntarella, with 
 out whom she rarely stirred abroad a little old 
 woman, in neat but dingy-coloured garments, with 
 a grey woollen shawl drawn over her head like a cowl, 
 instead of a bonnet. 
 
 Marzio finished fastening the door, and then turned 
 round. On seeing his wife he remained silent for a 
 
20 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. I 
 
 moment, looking at her with an expression of dis 
 satisfied inquiry. He had not expected her. 
 
 "Well?" he ejaculated at last. 
 
 " It is dinner time," remarked the stout lady. 
 
 " Yes, I heard the gun," answered Marzio drily. 
 "It is the same as if you had told me," he added 
 ironically, as he turned and led the way across the 
 street. 
 
 "A pretty answer!" exclaimed Maria Luisa, tossing 
 her large head as she followed her lord and master to 
 the door of their house. Meanwhile Assunta, the old 
 servant, glanced at Gianbattista, rolled up her eyes 
 with an air of resignation, and spread out her withered 
 hands for a moment with a gesture of despair, instantly 
 drawing them in again beneath the folds of her grey 
 woollen shawl. 
 
 "Gadding!" muttered Marzio, as he entered the 
 narrow door from which the dark steps led abruptly 
 upwards. " Gadding always gadding ! And who 
 minds the soup-kettle when you are gadding, I should 
 like to know ? The cat, I suppose ! Oh, these women 
 and their priests ! These priests and these women !" 
 
 " Lucia is minding the soup-kettle," gasped Maria 
 Luisa, as she puffed up stairs behind her thin and 
 active husband. 
 
 " Lucia !" cried Maraio angrily, a flight of steps 
 higher. "I suppose you will bring her up to be 
 
CHAP. I MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 21 
 
 woman of all work ? Well, she could earn her living 
 then, which is more than you do ! After all, it is 
 better to mind a soup-kettle than to thump a piano 
 and to squeal so that I can hear her in the shop op 
 posite, and it is better than hanging about the church 
 all the morning, or listening to Paolo's drivelling talk. 
 By all means keep her in the kitchen." 
 
 It was hard to say whether Signora Pandolfi was 
 puffing or sighing as she paused for breath upon the 
 landing, but there was probably something of both in 
 the labour of her lungs. She was used to Marzio. 
 She had lived with him for twenty years, and she 
 knew his moods and his ways, and detected the com 
 ing storm from afar. Unfortunately, or perhaps for 
 tunately, for her, there was little variety in the 
 sequence of his ideas. She was accustomed to his 
 beginning at the grumbling stage before dinner, and 
 proceeding by a crescendo movement to the pitch of 
 rage, which was rarely reached until he had finished 
 his meal, when he generally seized his hat and dragged 
 Gianbattista away with him, declaring loudly that 
 women were not fit for human society. The daily 
 excitement of this comedy had long lost its power to 
 elicit anything more than a sigh from the stout Maria 
 Luisa, who generally bore Marzio's unreasonable anger 
 with considerable equanimity, waiting for his departure 
 to eat her boiled beef and salad in peace with Lucia, 
 
22 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. I 
 
 while old Assunta sat by the table with the cat in her 
 lap, putting in a word of commiseration alternately 
 with a word of gossip about the lodgers on the other 
 side of the landing. The latter were a young and 
 happy pair : the husband, a chorus singer at the Apollo, 
 who worked at glove cleaning during the day time ; his 
 wife, a sempstress, who did repairs upon the costumes 
 of the theatre. Their apartments consisted of two 
 rooms and a kitchen, while Marzio and his family 
 occupied the rest of the floor, and entered their lodg 
 ing by the opposite door. 
 
 Maria Luisa envied the couple in her sleepy fashion. 
 Her husband was indeed comparatively rich, and though 
 economical in his domestic arrangements, he had money 
 in the bank enough to keep him comfortably for the 
 rest of his days. His violence did not extend beyond 
 words and black looks, and he was not miserly about 
 a few francs for dress, or a dinner at the Falcone two 
 or three times a year. But in the matter of domestic 
 peace his conduct left much to be desired. He was a 
 sober man, but his hours were irregular, for he attended 
 the meetings of a certain club which Maria Luisa held 
 in abhorrence, and brought back opinions which made 
 her cross herself with her fat fingers, shuddering at the 
 things he said. As for Gianbattista Bordogni, who 
 lived with them, and consequently received most of 
 his wages in the shape of board and lodging, he loved 
 
CHAP. I MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 23 
 
 Lucia Pandolfi, his master's daughter, and though he 
 shared Marzio's opinions, he held his tongue in the 
 house. He understood how necessary to him the 
 mother's sympathy must be, and, with subtle intelli 
 gence, he knew how to create a contrast between 
 himself and his master by being reticent at the right 
 moment. 
 
 Lucia opened the door in answer to the bell her 
 father had rung, and stood aside in the narrow way to 
 let members of the household pass by, one by one. 
 Lucia was seventeen years old, and probably resembled 
 her mother as the latter had looked at the same age. 
 She was slight, and tall, and dark, with a quantity of 
 glossy black hair coiled behind her head. Her black 
 eyes had not yet acquired that sleepy look which 
 advancing life and stoutness had put into her mother's, 
 as a sort of sign of the difficulty of quick motion. 
 Her figure was lithe, though she was not a very active 
 girl, and one might have predicted that at forty she, 
 too, would pay her debt to time in pounds of flesh. 
 There are thin people who look as though they could 
 never grow stout, and there are others whose leisurely 
 motion and deliberate step foretells increase of weight. 
 But Gianbattista had not studied these matters of 
 physiological horoscopy. It sufficed him that Lucia 
 Pandolfi was at present a very pretty girl, even 
 beautiful, according to some standards. Her thick 
 
CHAP. I 
 
 hair, low forehead, straight classic features, and severe 
 mouth fascinated the handsome apprentice, and the 
 intimacy which had developed between the two during 
 the years of his residence under Marzio's roof, from the 
 time when Lucia was a little girl to the present day, 
 had rendered the transition from friendship to love 
 almost imperceptible to them both. Gianbattista was 
 the last of the party to enter the lodging, and as he 
 paused to shut the door, Lucia was still lingering at 
 the threshold. 
 
 "Hist! They will see!" she protested under her 
 breath. 
 
 " What do I care !" whispered the apprentice, as he 
 kissed her cheek in the dusky passage. Then they 
 followed the rest. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 THAT evening Marzio finished the last cherub's head 
 on the ewer before he left the shop. He had sent 
 Gianbattista home, and had dismissed the men who 
 were working at a huge gilded grating ordered by a 
 Roman prince for a church he was decorating. Marzio 
 worked on by the light of a strong lamp until the 
 features were all finished and he had indicated the 
 pupils of the eyes with the fine-pointed punch. Then 
 he sat some time at his bench with the beautiful piece 
 of workmanship under his fingers, looking hard at it 
 and straining his eyes to find imperfections that did 
 not exist. At last he laid it down tenderly upon the 
 stuffed leather pad and stared at the green shade of 
 the lamp, deep in thought. 
 
 The man's nature was in eternal conflict with itself, 
 and he felt as though he were the battle-ground of 
 forces he could neither understand nor control. A 
 true artist in feeling, in the profound cultivation of 
 his tastes, in the laborious patience with which he 
 
 executed his designs, there was an element in his 
 Vol. 6 B 
 
26 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. II 
 
 character and mind which was in direct contradiction 
 with the essence of what art is. If art can be said 
 to depend upon anything except itself, that something 
 is religion. The arts began in religious surroundings, 
 in treating religious subjects, and the history of the 
 world from the time of the early Egyptians has shown 
 that where genius has lost faith in the supernatural, 
 its efforts to produce great works of lasting beauty in 
 the sensual and material atmosphere of another century 
 have produced comparatively insignificant results. The 
 science of silver-chiselling began, so far as this age is 
 concerned, in the church. The tastes of Francis the 
 First directed the attention of the masters of the art 
 to the making of ornaments for his mistresses, and for 
 a time the men who had made chalices for the Vatican 
 succeeded in making jewelry for Madame de Chateau 
 briand, Madame d'Etampes, and Diane de Poitiers. 
 But the art itself remained in the church, and the 
 marvels of repoussd gold and silver to be seen in the 
 church of Notre Dame des Victoires, the masterpieces 
 of Ossani of Eome, could not have been produced by 
 any goldsmith who made jewelry for a living. 
 
 Marzio Pandolfi knew all this better than any one, 
 and he could no more have separated himself from 
 his passion for making chalices and crucifixes than he 
 could have changed the height of his stature or the 
 colour of his eyes. But at the same time he hated 
 
CHAP. II MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 27 
 
 the church, the priests, and every one who was to use 
 the beautiful things over which he spent so much 
 time and labour. Had he been indifferent, a careless, 
 good-natured sceptic, he would have been a bad artist. 
 As it was, the very violence of his hatred lent spirit 
 and vigour to his eye and hand. He was willing to 
 work upon the figure, perfecting every detail of ex 
 pression, until he fancied he could feel and see the 
 silver limbs of the dead Christ suffering upon the 
 cross under the diabolical skill of his long fingers. 
 The monstrous horror of the thought made him work 
 marvels, and the fancied realisation of an idea that 
 would startle even a hardened unbeliever, lent a 
 feverish impulse to this strange man's genius. 
 
 As for the angels on the chalices, he did not hate 
 them ; on the contrary, he saw in them the reflection 
 of those vague images of loveliness and innocence 
 which haunt every artist's soul at times, and the mere 
 manual skill necessary to produce expression in things 
 so minute, fascinated a mind accustomed to cope with 
 difficulties, and so inured to them as almost to love 
 them. 
 
 Nevertheless, when a man is constantly a prey to 
 strong emotions, his nature cannot long remain un 
 changed. The conviction had been growing in Marzio's 
 mind that it was his duty, for the sake of consistency, 
 to abandon his trade. The thought saddened him, 
 
28 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, n 
 
 but the conclusion seemed inevitable. It was absurd, 
 he repeated to himself, that one who hated the priests 
 should work for them. Marzio was a fanatic in his 
 theories, but he had something of the artist's sim 
 plicity in his idea of the way they should be carried 
 out. He would have thought it no harm to kill a 
 priest, but it seemed to him contemptible to receive 
 a priest's money for providing the church with vessels 
 which were to serve in a worship he despised. 
 
 Moreover, he was not poor. Indeed, he was richer 
 than any one knew, and the large sums paid for his 
 matchless work went straight from the workshop to 
 the bank, while Marzio continued to live in the simple 
 lodgings to which he had first brought home his wife, 
 eighteen years before, when he was but a young partner 
 in the establishment he now owned. As he sat at the 
 bench, looking from his silver ewer to the green lamp 
 shade, he was asking himself whether he should not give 
 up this life of working for people he hated and launch 
 into that larger work of political agitation, for which 
 he fancied himself so well fitted. He looked forward 
 into an imaginary future, and saw himself declaiming 
 in the Chambers against all that existed, rousing the 
 passions of a multitude to acts of destruction of 
 justice, as he called it in his thoughts and leading 
 a vast army of angry men up the steps of the Capitol 
 to proclaim himself the champion of the rights of 
 
CHAP. II MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 29 
 
 man against the rights of kings. His eyelids con 
 tracted and the concentrated light of his eyes was 
 reduced to two tiny bright specks in the midst of the 
 pupils ; his nervous hand went out and the fingers 
 clutched the jaws of the iron vice beside him as he 
 would have wished to grapple with the jaws of the 
 beast oppression, which in his dreams seemed ever 
 tormenting the poor world in which he lived. 
 
 There was something lacking in his face, even in 
 that moment of secret rage as he sat alone in his 
 workroom before the lamp. There was the frenzy 
 of the fanatic, the exaltation of the dreamer, clearly 
 expressed upon his features, but there was something 
 wanting. There was everything there except the 
 force to accomplish, the initiative which oversteps the 
 bank of words, threats, and angry thoughts, and 
 plunges boldly into the stream, ready to sacrifice it 
 self to lead others. The look of power, of stern de 
 termination, which is never absent from the faces of 
 men who change their times, was not visible in the 
 thin dark countenance of the silver-chiseller. Marzio 
 was destined never to rise above the common howling 
 mob which he aspired to lead. 
 
 This fact asserted itself outwardly as he sat there. 
 After a few minutes the features relaxed, a smile that 
 was almost weak the smile that shows that a man 
 lacks absolute confidence passed quickly over his 
 
30 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. II 
 
 face, the light in his eyes went out, and he rose from 
 his stool with a short, dissatisfied sigh, which was re 
 peated once or twice as he put away his work and 
 arranged his tools. He made the rounds of the work 
 shop, looked to the fastenings of the windows, lighted 
 a taper, and then extinguished the lamp. He threw a 
 loose overcoat over his shoulders without passing his 
 arms through the sleeves, and went out into the street. 
 Glancing up at the windows of his house opposite, 
 he saw that the lights were burning brightly, and he 
 guessed that his wife and daughter were waiting for 
 him before sitting down to supper. 
 
 " Let them wait," he muttered with a surly grin, as 
 he put out the taper and went down the street in the 
 opposite direction. 
 
 He turned the street corner by the dark Palazzo 
 Antici Mattei, and threaded the narrow streets towards 
 the Pantheon and the Piazza Sant' Eustachio. The 
 weather had changed, and the damp south-east wind 
 was blowing fiercely behind him. The pavement was 
 wet and slippery with the strange thin coating of 
 greasy mud which sometimes appears suddenly in 
 Rome even when it has not rained. The insufficient 
 gas lamps flickered in the wind as though they would 
 go out, and the few pedestrians who hurried along 
 clung closely to the wall as though it offered them 
 some protection from the moist scirocco. The great 
 
CHAP. II MARZIO' S CEUCIFIX 31 
 
 doors of the palaces were most of them closed, but 
 here and there a little red light announced a wine 
 shop, and as Marzio passed by he could see through 
 the dirty panes of glass dark figures sitting in a murky 
 atmosphere over bottles of coarse wine. The streets 
 were foul with the nauseous smell of decaying vege 
 tables and damp walls which the south-east wind 
 brings out of the older parts of Kome, and while few 
 voices were heard in the thick air, the clatter of horses 1 
 hoofs on the wet stones rattled loudly from the 
 thoroughfares which lead to the theatres. It was a 
 dismal night, but Marzio Pandolfi felt that his temper 
 was in tune with the weather as he tramped along 
 towards the Pantheon. 
 
 The streets widened as he neared his destination, 
 and he drew his overcoat more closely about his neck. 
 Presently he reached a small door close to Sant' Eus- 
 tachio, one of the several entrances to the ancient 
 Falcone, an inn which has existed for centuries upon 
 the same spot, in the same house, and which affords a 
 rather singular variety of accommodation. Down stairs, 
 upon the square, is a modern restaurant with plate- 
 glass windows, marble floor, Vienna cane chairs, and a 
 general appearance of luxury. A flight of steps leads 
 to an upper story, where there are numerous rooms of 
 every shape and dimension, furnished with old-fashioned 
 Italian simplicity, though with considerable cleanli- 
 
32 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, n 
 
 ness. Thither resort the large companies of regular 
 guests who have eaten their meals there during most of 
 their lives. But there is much more room in the house 
 than appears. The vast kitchen on the ground floor ter 
 minates in a large space, heavily vaulted and lighted by 
 oil lamps, where rougher tables are set and spread, and 
 where you may see the well-to-do wine-carter eating 
 his supper after his journey across the Campagna, in 
 company with some of his city acquaintances of a 
 similar class. In dark corners huge wine-casks present 
 their round dusty faces to the doubtful light, the smell 
 of the kitchen pervades everything, tempered by the 
 smell of wine from the neighbouring cellars ; the floor 
 is of rough stone worn by generations of cooks, potboys, 
 and guests. Beyond this again a short flight of steps 
 leads to a narrow doorway, passing through which one 
 enters the last and most retired chamber of the huge 
 inn. Here there is barely room for a dozen persons, 
 and when all the places are full the bottles and dishes 
 are passed from the door by the guests themselves 
 over each other's heads, for there is no room to move 
 about in the narrow space. The walls are whitewashed 
 and the tables are as plain as the chairs, but the food 
 and drink that are consumed there are the best that 
 the house affords, and the society, from the point of 
 view of Marzio Pandolfi and his friends, is of the 
 most agreeable. 
 
CHAP. II MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 33 
 
 The chiseller took his favourite seat in the corner 
 furthest from the window. Two or three men of 
 widely different types were already at the table, and 
 Marzio exchanged a friendly nod with each. One was 
 a florid man of large proportions, dressed in the height 
 of the fashion and with scrupulous neatness. He was a 
 jeweller. Another, a lawyer with a keen and anxious 
 face, wore a tightly-buttoned frock coat and a black 
 tie. Immense starched cuffs covered his bony hands 
 and part of his fingers. He was supping on a salad, 
 into which he from time to time poured an additional 
 dose of vinegar. A third man, with a round hat on 
 one side of his head, and who wore a very light- 
 coloured overcoat, displaying a purple scarf with a 
 showy pin at the neck, held a newspaper in one hand 
 and a fork in the other, with which he slowly ate 
 mouthfuls of a ragout of wild boar. He was a jour 
 nalist 011 the staff of an advanced radical paper. 
 
 "Halloa, Sor Marzio !" cried this last guest, suddenly 
 looking up from the sheet he was reading, "here is 
 news of your brother." 
 
 " What ?" asked Marzio briefly, but as though the 
 matter were utterly indifferent to him. " Has he killed 
 anybody, the assassin ?" The journalist laughed 
 hoarsely at the jest. 
 
 " Not so bad as that/' he answered. " He is getting 
 advancement. They are going to make him a canon 
 
34 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, n 
 
 of Santa Maria Maggiore. It is in the Osservatore 
 Romaiio of this evening." 
 
 " He is good for nothing else/' growled Marzio. 
 " It is just like him not to have told me anything 
 about it." 
 
 " With the sympathy which exists between you, I 
 am surprised," said the journalist. "After all, you 
 might convert him, and then he would be useful. He 
 will be an archdeacon next, and then a bishop who 
 knows? perhaps a cardinal!" 
 
 " You might as well talk of converting the horses 
 on Monte Cavallo as of making Paolo change his 
 mind," replied Pandolfi, beginning to sip the white 
 wine he had ordered. " You don't know him he is 
 an angel, my brother ! Oh, quite an angel ! I wish 
 somebody would send him to heaven, where he is so 
 anxious to be !" 
 
 " Look out, Marzio !" exclaimed the lawyer, glancing 
 from the vinegar cruet towards the door and then at 
 his friend. 
 
 " No such luck," returned the chiseller. " Nothing 
 ever happens to those black-birds. When we get as 
 far as hanging them, my dear brother will happen to 
 be in Paris instead of in Eome. You might as well 
 try to catch a street cat by calling to it micio, micio ! 
 as try and catch a priest. You may as well expect to 
 kill a mule by kicking it as one of those animals. 
 
CHAP, n MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 35 
 
 Burn the Vatican over their heads and think you have 
 destroyed them like a wasps' nest, they will write you 
 a letter from Berlin the next day saying that they are 
 alive and well, and that Prince Bismarck protests 
 against your proceedings." 
 
 " Bravo, Sor Marzio !" cried the journalist. " I will 
 put that in the paper to-morrow it is a fine fulmina- 
 tion. You always refresh my ideas why will you 
 not write an article for us in that strain? I will 
 publish it as coming from a priest who has given up 
 his orders, married, and opened a wine-shop in Naples. 
 What an effect ! Magnificent ! Do go on !" 
 
 Marzio did not need a second invitation to proceed 
 upon his favourite topic. He was soon launched, and 
 as the little room filled, his pale and sunken cheeks 
 grew red with excitement, his tongue was unloosed, 
 and he poured out a continuous stream of blasphemous 
 ribaldry such as would have shocked the ears of a 
 revolutionist of the year '89 or of a pttroleuse of the 
 nineteenth century. It seemed as though the spring 
 once opened would never dry. His eyes flashed, his 
 fingers writhed convulsively on the table, and his 
 voice rang out, ironical and cutting, with strange 
 intonations that roused strange feelings in his hearers. 
 It was the old subject, but he found something new 
 to say upon it at each meeting with his friends, and 
 they wondered where he got the imagination to 
 
36 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. II 
 
 construct his telling phrases and specious, virulent 
 arguments. 
 
 We have all wondered at such men. They are the 
 outcome of this age and of no previous time, as it is 
 also to be hoped that their like may not arise hereafter. 
 They are found everywhere, these agitators, with their 
 excited faces, their nervous utterances, and their furious 
 hatred of all that is. They find their way into the parlia 
 ments of the world, into the dining-rooms of the rich, 
 into the wine-shops of the working men, into the press 
 even, and some of their works are published by great 
 houses and read by great ladies, if not by great men. 
 Suddenly, when we least expect it, a flaming advertisement 
 announces a fiery tirade against all that the great mass of 
 mankind hold in honour, if not in reverence. Curiosity 
 drives thousands to read what is an insult to humanity, 
 and even though the many are disgusted, some few 
 are found to admire a rhetoric which exalts their own 
 ignorance to the right of judging God. And still the 
 few increase and grow to be a root and send out shoots 
 and creepers like an evil plant, so that grave men say 
 among themselves that if there is to be a universal 
 war in our times or hereafter it will be fought by 
 Christians of all denominations defending themselves 
 against those who are not Christians. 
 
 Marzio sat long at his table, and his modest pint 
 of wine was enough to moisten his throat throughout 
 
OHAP. II MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 37 
 
 the time during which he held forth. When the 
 liquor was finished he rose, took down his overcoat 
 from the peg on which it hung, pushed his soft hat 
 over his eyes, and with a sort of triumphant wave of 
 the hand, saluted his friends and left the room. He 
 was a perfectly sober man, and no power would have 
 induced him to overstep the narrow limit he allowed 
 to his taste. Indeed, he did not care for wine itself, 
 and still less for any excitement it produced in his 
 brain. He ordered his half-litre as a matter of respect 
 for the house, as he called it, and it served to wet his 
 throat while he was talking. Water would have done 
 as well. Consumed by the intensity of his hatred for 
 the things he attacked, he needed no stimulant to 
 increase his exaltation. 
 
 When he was gone, there was silence in the room 
 for some few minutes. Then the journalist burst into 
 a loud laugh. 
 
 "If we only had half a dozen fellows like 
 that in the Chambers, all talking at once !" he 
 cried. 
 
 " They would be kicked into the middle of Monte- 
 citorio in a quarter of an hour," answered the thin 
 voice of the lawyer. " Our friend Marzio is slightly 
 mad, but he is a good fellow in theory. In practice 
 that sort of thing must be dropped into public life 
 a little at a time, as one drops vinegar into a salad, 
 
38 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, n 
 
 on each leaf. If you don't, all the vinegar goes to the 
 bottom together, and smells horribly sour." 
 
 While Marzio was holding forth to his friends, the 
 family circle in the Via dei Falegnami was enjoying a 
 very pleasant evening in his absence. The Signora 
 Pandolfi presided at supper in a costume which lacked 
 elegance, but ensured comfort the traditional skirt 
 and white cotton jacket of the Italian housewife. 
 Lucia wore the same kind of dress, but with less 
 direful effects upon her appearance. Gianbattista, as 
 usual after working hours, was arrayed in clothes 
 of fashionable cut, aiming at a distant imitation of the 
 imaginary but traditional English tourist. A murder 
 ous collar supported his round young chin, and a very 
 stiffly-constructed pasteboard-lined tie was adorned by 
 an exquisite silver pin of his own workmanship the 
 only artistic thing about him. 
 
 Besides these members of the family, there was a 
 fourth person at supper, the person whom, of all others, 
 Marzio detested, Paolo Pandolfi, his brother the priest, 
 commonly called Don Paolo. He deserves a word of 
 description, for there was in his face a fleeting resem 
 blance to Marzio, which might easily have led a 
 stranger to believe that there was a similarity between 
 their characters. Tall, like his brother, the priest was 
 a little less thin, and evidently far less nervous. The 
 expression of his face was thoughtful, and the deep, 
 
OHAP. IT MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 39 
 
 heavily-ringed eyes were like Marzio's, but the fore 
 head was broader, and the breadth ascended higher in 
 the skull, which was clearly denned by the short, 
 closely-cropped hair and the smooth tonsure at the 
 back. The nose was larger and of more noble shape, 
 and Paolo's complexion was less yellow than his 
 brother's ; the features were not surrounded by fur 
 rows or lines, and the leanness of the priest's face 
 threw them into relief. The clean shaven upper lip 
 showed a kind and quiet mouth, which smiled easily 
 and betrayed a sense of humour, but was entirely free 
 from any suggestion of cruelty. Don Paolo was 
 scrupulous of his appearance, and his cassock and 
 mantle were carefully brushed, and his white collar 
 was immaculately clean. His hands were of the 
 student type white, square at the tips, lean, and 
 somewhat knotty. 
 
 Marzio, in his ill-humour, had no doubt nattered 
 himself that his family would wait for him for supper. 
 But his family had studied him and knew his ways. 
 When he was not punctual, he seldom came at all, 
 and a quarter of an hour was considered sufficient to 
 decide the matter. 
 
 " What are we waiting to do ? " exclaimed Maria 
 Luisa, in the odd Italian idiom. ''Marzio is in his 
 humours he must have gone to his friends. Ah I 
 those friends of his ! " she sighed. " Let us sit down 
 
40 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. II 
 
 to supper," she added ; and, from her tone, the idea of 
 supper seemed to console her for her husband's absence. 
 
 " Perhaps he guessed that I was coming," remarked 
 Don Paolo, with a smile. " In that case he will be a 
 little nervous with me when he comes back. With 
 your leave, Maria Luisa," he added, by way of an 
 nouncing that he would say grace. He gave the short 
 Latin benediction, during which Gianbattista never 
 looked away from Lucia's face. The boy fancied she 
 was never so beautiful as when she stood with her 
 hands folded and her eyes cast down. 
 
 " Marzio does not know what I have come for," 
 began Don Paolo again, as they all sat down to the 
 square table in the little room. " If he knew, perhaps 
 he might have been here though perhaps he would 
 not care very much after all. You all ask what it is ? 
 Yes ; I will tell you. His Eminence has obtained for 
 me the canonry that was vacant at Santa Maria Mag- 
 
 At this announcement everybody sprang up and 
 embraced Don Paolo, and overwhelmed him with con 
 gratulations, reproaching him at the same time for 
 having kept the news so long to himself. 
 
 " Of course, I shall continue to work with the Car 
 dinal," said the priest, when the family gave him time 
 to speak. " But it is a great honour. I have other 
 news for Marzio " 
 
CHAP. II MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 41 
 
 " I imagine that you did not count upon the canonry 
 as a means of pleasing him," remarked the Signora 
 Pandolfi, with a smile. 
 
 " No, indeed," laughed Lucia. " Poor papa he 
 would rather see you sent to be a curate in Civita 
 Lavinia ! " 
 
 " Dear me ! I fear so," answered Don Paolo, with 
 a shade of sadness. " But I have a commission for 
 him. The Cardinal has ordered another crucifix, which 
 he desires should be Marzio's masterpiece silver, of 
 course, and large. It must be altogether the finest 
 thing he has ever made, when it is finished/' 
 
 "I daresay he will be very much pleased," said 
 Maria Luisa, smiling comfortably. 
 
 " I wish he could make the figure solid, cast and 
 chiselled, instead of repousst" remarked Gianbattista, 
 whose powerful hands craved heavy work by instinct. 
 
 " It would be a pity to waste so much silver ; and 
 besides, the effects are never so light," said Lucia, who, 
 like most artists' daughters, knew something of her 
 father's work. 
 
 " What is a little silver, more or less, to the Car 
 dinal ? " asked Gianbattista, with a little scorn ; but as 
 he met the priest's eye his expression instantly became 
 grave. 
 
 The apprentice was very young; he was not be 
 yond that age at which, to certain natures, it seems a 
 
42 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, n 
 
 fine thing to be numbered among such men as Marzio's 
 friends. But at the same time he was not old enough, 
 nor independent enough, to exhibit his feelings on all 
 occasions. Don Paolo exercised a dominant influence 
 in the Pandolfi household. He had the advantage of 
 being calm, grave, and thoroughly in earnest, not easily 
 ruffled nor roused to anger, any more than he was 
 easily hurt. By character sensitive, he bore all small 
 attacks upon himself with the equanimity of a man 
 who believes his cause to be above the need of defence 
 against little enemies. The result was that he domi 
 nated his brother's family, and even Marzio himself 
 was not free from a certain subjection which he felt, 
 and which was one of the most bitter elements in his 
 existence. Don Paolo imposed respect by his quiet 
 dignity, while Marzio asserted himself by speaking 
 loudly and working himself voluntarily into a state of 
 half-assumed anger. In the contest between quiet 
 force and noisy self-assertion the issue is never doubt 
 ful. Marzio lacked real power, and he felt it. He 
 could command attention among the circle of his 
 associates who already sympathised with his views, but 
 in the presence of Paolo he was conscious of struggling 
 against a superior and incomprehensible obstacle, 
 against the cool and unresentful disapprobation of a 
 man stronger than himself. It was many years since 
 he had ventured to talk before his brother as he 
 
CHAP. II MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 43 
 
 talked when he was alone with Gianbattista, and the 
 latter saw the change that came over his master's 
 manner before the priest, and guessed that Marzio was 
 morally afraid. The somewhat scornful allusion to the 
 Cardinal's supposed wealth certainly did not constitute 
 an attack upon Don Paolo, but Gianbattista neverthe 
 less felt that he had said something rather foolish, and 
 made haste to ignore his words. The influence could 
 not be escaped. 
 
 It was this subtle power that Marzio resented, for 
 he saw that it was exerted continually, both upon him 
 self and the members of his household. The chiseller 
 acknowledged to himself that in a great emergency his 
 wife, his daughter, and even Gianbattista Bordogni, 
 would most likely follow the advice of Don Paolo, in 
 spite of his own protests and arguments to the contrary. 
 He fancied that he himself alone was a free agent. He 
 doubted Gianbattista, and began to think that the boy's 
 character would turn out a failure. This was the 
 reason why he no longer encouraged the idea of a 
 marriage between his daughter and his apprentice, a 
 scheme which, somewhat earlier, had been freely dis 
 cussed. It had seemed an admirable arrangement. 
 The young man promised to turn out a freethinker 
 after Marzio's own heart, and showed a talent for his 
 profession which left nothing to be desired. Some one 
 must be ready to take Marzio's place in the direction 
 
44 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, n 
 
 of the establishment, and no one could be better fitted 
 to undertake the task than Gianbattista. Lucia would 
 inherit her father's money as the capital for the busi 
 ness, and her husband should inherit the workshop 
 with all the stock-in-trade. Latterly, however, Marzio 
 had changed his mind, and the idea no longer seemed 
 so satisfactory to him as at first. Gianbattista was 
 evidently falling under the influence of Don Paolo, and 
 that was a sufficient reason for breaking off the match. 
 Marzio hardly realised that as far as his outward 
 deportment in the presence of the priest was concerned, 
 the apprentice was only following his master's example. 
 Marzio had been looking about him for another 
 Ausband for his daughter, and he had actually selected 
 one from among his most intimate friends. His choice 
 had fallen upon the thin lawyer by name Gasparo 
 Carnesecchi who, according to the chiseller's views, 
 was in all respects a most excellent match. A true 
 freethinker, a practising lawyer with a considerable 
 acquaintance in the world of politics, a discreet man 
 not far from forty years of age, it seemed as though 
 nothing more were required to make a model hus 
 band. Marzio knew very well that Lucia's dowry 
 would alone have sufficed to decide the lawyer to 
 marry her, and an interview with Carnesecchi had 
 almost decided the matter. Of course, he had not 
 been able to allude to the affair this evening at the 
 
CHAP. II MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 45 
 
 inn, when so many others were present, but the 
 preliminaries were nearly settled, and Marzio had 
 made up his mind to announce his intention to his 
 family at once. He knew well enough what a storm 
 he would raise, and, like many men who are always 
 trying to seem stronger than they really are, he had 
 determined to choose a moment for making the dis 
 closure when he should be in a thoroughly bad humour. 
 As he walked homewards from the old inn he felt that 
 this moment had arrived. The slimy pavement, the 
 moist wind driving through the streets and round every 
 corner, penetrating to the very joints, contributed to 
 make him feel thoroughly vicious and disagreeable; 
 and the tirade in which he had been indulging before 
 his audience of friends had loosed his tongue, until he 
 was conscious of being able to face any domestic dis 
 turbance or opposition. 
 
 The little party had- adjourned from supper, and had 
 been sitting for some time in the small room which 
 served as a place of meeting. Gianbattista was 
 smoking a cigarette, which he judged to be more in 
 keeping with his appearance than a pipe when he was 
 dressed in civilised garments, and he was drawing an 
 elaborate ornament of arabesques upon a broad sheet 
 of paper fixed on a board. Lucia seated at the table 
 was watching the work, while Don Paolo sat in a 
 straight-backed chair, his white hands folded on his 
 
46 MARZIO'S CEUCIFIX CHAP. II 
 
 knee, from time to time addressing a remark to Maria 
 Luisa. The latter, being too stout to recline in the 
 deep easy-chair near the empty fireplace, sat bolt 
 upright, with her feet upon the edge of a footstool, 
 which was covered by a tapestry of worsted-work, dis 
 playing an impossible nosegay upon a vivid green ground. 
 
 They had discussed the priest's canonry, and the 
 order for the crucifix. They had talked about the 
 weather. They had made some remarks upon Marzio's 
 probable disposition of mind when he should come 
 home, and the conversation was exhausted so far as 
 the two older members were concerned. Gianbattista 
 and Lucia conversed in a low tone, in short, enigmatic 
 phrases. 
 
 " Do you know ? " said the apprentice. 
 
 " What ? " inquired Lucia. 
 
 " I have spoken of it to-day." Both glanced at the 
 Signora Pandolfi. She was sitting up as straight as 
 ever, but her heavy head was slowly bending forward. 
 
 " Well ? " asked the young girl. 
 
 " He was in a diabolical humour. He said I might 
 take you away." Gianbattista smiled as he spoke, and 
 looked into Lucia's eyes. She returned his gaze rather 
 sadly, and only shook her head and shrugged her 
 shoulders for a reply. 
 
 "If we took him at his word," suggested Gian 
 battista. 
 
CHAP. H MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 4*7 
 
 " Just so it would be a fine affair ! " exclaimed 
 Lucia ironically. 
 
 "After all, he said so," argued the young man. 
 " What does it matter whether he meant it ? " 
 
 " Things are going badly for us," sighed his com 
 panion. " It was different a year ago. You must 
 have done something to displease him, Tista. I wish 
 I knew ! " Her dark eyes suddenly assumed an angry 
 expression, and she drew in her red lips. 
 
 " Wish you knew what ? " inquired the apprentice, 
 in a colder tone. 
 
 " Why he does not think about it as he used to. 
 He never made any objections until lately. It was 
 almost settled." 
 
 Gianbattista glanced significantly at Don Paolo, 
 shrugged his shoulders, and went on drawing. 
 
 " What has that to do with it ? " asked Lucia im 
 patiently. 
 
 " It is enough for your father that it would please 
 his brother. He would hate a dog that Don Paolo 
 liked." 
 
 " What nonsense ! " exclaimed the girl. " It is 
 something else. Papa sees something something 
 that I do not see. He knows his own affairs, and 
 perhaps he knows yours too, Tista. I have not for 
 gotten the other evening." 
 
 " I ! " ejaculated the young man, looking up angrily. 
 
48 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. II 
 
 " You know very well where I was at the Circolo 
 Artistico. How do you dare to think " 
 
 " Why are you so angry if there is no one else in 
 the case ? * asked Lucia, with a sudden sweetness, 
 which belied the jealous glitter in her eyes. 
 
 " It seems to me that I have a right to be angry. 
 That you should suspect me after all these years ! 
 How many times have I sworn to you that I went 
 nowhere else ? " 
 
 " What is the use of your swearing ? You do not 
 believe in anything why should you swear ? Why 
 should I believe you ? " 
 
 "Oh if you talk like that, I have finished!" 
 answered Gianbattista. "But there you are only 
 teasing me. You believe me, just as I believe you. 
 Besides, as for swearing and believing in something 
 besides you who knows ? I love you is not that 
 enough ? " 
 
 Lucia's eyes softened as they rested on the young 
 man's face. She knew he loved her. She only 
 wanted to be told so once more. 
 
 " There is Marzio/' said Don Paolo, as a key rattled 
 in the latch of the outer door. 
 
 " At this hour ! " exclaimed the Signora Pandolfi, 
 suddenly waking up and rubbing her eyes with her 
 fat lingers. 
 
CHAPTEK III 
 
 MARZIO, having divested himself of his heavy coat and 
 hat, appeared at the door of the sitting-room. 
 
 Everybody looked at him, as though to discern the 
 signs of his temper, and no one was perceptibly re 
 assured by the sight of his white face and frowning 
 forehead. 
 
 "Well, most reverend canon," he began, addressing 
 Don Paolo, "I am in time to congratulate you, it 
 seems. It was natural that I should be the last to 
 hear of your advancement, through the papers." 
 
 "Thank you," answered Don Paolo quietly. "I 
 came to tell you the news." 
 
 "You are very considerate," returned Marzio. "I 
 have news also ; for you all." He paused a moment, 
 as though to give greater effect to the statement he 
 was about to make. "I refer," he continued very 
 slowly, " to the question of Lucia's marriage." 
 
 " Indeed ! " exclaimed the priest. " I am glad if it 
 is to be arranged at last." 
 
 The other persons in the room held their breath* 
 Vol. 6 c 
 
50 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, ill 
 
 The young girl blushed deeply under her white skin, 
 and Gianbattista grew pale as he laid aside his pencil 
 and shaded his -eyes with his hands. The Signora 
 Pandolfi panted with excitement and trembled visibly 
 as she looked at her husband. His dark figure stood 
 out strongly from the background of the shabby blue 
 wall paper, and the petroleum lamp cast deep shadows 
 in the hollows of his face. 
 
 " Yes," he continued, " I talked yesterday with 
 Gasparo Carnesecchi you know, he is the lawyer I 
 always consult. He is a clever fellow and understands 
 these matters. We talked of the contract ; I thought 
 it better to consult him, you see, and he thinks the 
 affair can be arranged in a couple of weeks. He is so 
 intelligent. A marvel of astuteness ; we discussed 
 the whole matter, I say, and it is to be concluded as 
 soon as possible. So now, my children " 
 
 Gianbattista and Lucia, seated side by side at the 
 table, were looking into each other's eyes, and as 
 Marzio fixed his gaze upon them, their hands joined 
 upon the drawing-board, and an expression of happy 
 surprise overspread their faces. Marzio smiled too, 
 as he paused before completing the sentence. 
 
 " So that now, my children," he continued, speak 
 ing very slowly, "you may as well leave each 
 other's hands and have done with all this non- 
 
CHAP, in MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 51 
 
 The lovers looked up suddenly with a puzzled air, 
 supposing that Marzio was jesting. 
 
 " I am in earnest," he went on. " You see, Tista, 
 that it will not be proper for you to sit and hold 
 Lucia's hand when she is called Signora Carnesecchi, 
 so you may as well get used to it." 
 
 For a moment there was a dead silence in the room. 
 Then Lucia and Gianbattista both sprang to their feet. 
 
 " What ! " screamed the young girl in an agony of 
 terror. " Carnesecchi ! what do you mean ? " 
 
 "Infame! Wretch!" shouted Gianbattista, beside 
 himself with rage as he sprang forward to grasp 
 Marzio in his hands. 
 
 But the priest had risen too, and placed himself 
 between the young man and Marzio to prevent any 
 struggle. " No violence ! " he cried in a tone that 
 dominated the angry voices and the hysterical weeping 
 of Maria Luisa, who sat rocking herself in her chair. 
 Gianbattista stepped back and leaned against the wall, 
 choking with anger. Lucia fell back into her seat and 
 covered her face with her hands. 
 
 " Violence ? Who wants violence ? " asked Marzio 
 in contemptuous tones. " Do you suppose I am afraid 
 of Tista ? Let him alone, Paolo ; let us see whether 
 he will strike me." 
 
 The priest now turned his back on the apprentice, 
 and confronted Marzio. He was not pale like the 
 
52 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, in 
 
 rest, for he was not afraid of the chiseller, and the 
 generous flush of a righteous indignation mounted to 
 his calm face. 
 
 " You are mad," he said, meeting his brother's gaze 
 fearlessly. 
 
 " Not in the least," returned Marzio. " Lucia shall 
 marry Gasparo Carnesecchi at once, or she shall not 
 marry any one ; what am I saying ? She shall have 
 no choice. She must and she shall marry the man I 
 have chosen. What have you to do with it ? Have 
 you come here to put yourself between me and my 
 family ? I advise you to be careful The law pro 
 tects me from such interference, and fellows of your 
 cloth are not very popular at present." 
 
 " The law," answered the priest, controlling his wrath, 
 " protects children against their parents. The law which 
 you invoke provides that a father shall not force his 
 daughter to marry against her will, and I believe that 
 considerable penalties are incurred in such cases." 
 
 " What do you know of law, except how to elude 
 it ? " inquired Marzio defiantly. 
 
 Not half an hour had elapsed since he had been 
 haranguing the admiring company of his friends, and 
 his words came easily. Moreover, it was a long time 
 since he had broken through the constraint he felt in 
 Don Paolo's presence, and the opportunity having 
 presented itself was not to be lost. 
 
CHAP. Ill MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 53 
 
 " Who are you that should teach me ? " he repeated, 
 raising his voice to a strained key and gesticulating 
 fiercely. " You, your very existence is a lie, and you 
 are the server of lies, and you and your fellow liars 
 would have created them if they didn't already exist, 
 you love them so. You live by a fraud, and you want 
 to drag everybody into the comedy you play every 
 day in your churches, everybody who is fool enough 
 to drop a coin into your greedy palm ! What right 
 have you to talk to men ? Do you work ? Do you 
 buy ? Do you sell ? You are worse than those fine 
 gentlemen who do nothing because their fathers stole 
 our money, for you live by stealing it yourselves ! 
 And you set yourselves up as judges over an honest 
 man to tell him what he is to do with his daughter ? 
 You fool, you thing in petticoats, you deceiver of 
 women, you charlatan, you mountebank, go ! Go and 
 perform your antics before your altars, and leave hard 
 working men like me to manage their families as they 
 can, and to marry their daughters to whom they 
 will ! " 
 
 Marzio had rolled off his string of invective in such 
 a tone, and so rapidly, that it had been impossible to 
 interrupt him. The two women were sobbing bitterly. 
 Gianbattista, pale and breathing hard, looked as though 
 he would throttle Marzio if he could reach him, and 
 Don Paolo faced the angry artist, with reddening fore- 
 
54 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, in 
 
 head, folding his arms and straining his muscles to 
 control himself. When Marzio paused for breath, the 
 priest answered him with an effort. 
 
 "You may insult me if it pleases you," he said, "it 
 is nothing to me. I cannot prevent your uttering 
 your senseless blasphemies. I speak to you of the 
 matter in hand. I tell you simply that in treating 
 these two, who love each other, as you are treating 
 them, you are doing a thing unworthy of a man. 
 Moreover, the law protects your daughter, and I will 
 see that the law does its duty." 
 
 " Oh, to think that I should have such a monster 
 for a husband," groaned the fat Signora Pandolfi, still 
 rocking herself in her chair, and hardly able to speak 
 through her sobs. 
 
 "You will do a bad day's work for yourself and 
 your art when you try to separate us," said Gianbattista 
 between his teeth. 
 
 Marzio laughed hoarsely, and turned his back on 
 the rest, beginning to fill his pipe at the chimney- 
 piece. Don Paolo heard the apprentice's words, and 
 understood their meaning. He went and laid his 
 hand on the young man's shoulder. 
 
 "Do not let us have any threats, Tista," he said 
 quietly. " Sor Marzio will never do this thing 
 believe me, he cannot if he would." 
 
 " Go on," cried Marzio, striking a match. " Go on 
 
OTAP. in MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 55 
 
 sow the seeds of discord, teach them all to disobey 
 me. I am listening, my dear Paolo." 
 
 " All the better, if you are," answered the priest, 
 " for I assure you I am in earnest. You will have 
 time to consider this thing. I have a matter of busi 
 ness with you, Marzio. That is what I came for this 
 evening. If you have done, we will speak of it." 
 
 " Business ? " exclaimed Marzio in loud ironical 
 tones. " This is a good time for talking of business 
 as good as any other ! What is it ? " 
 
 " The Cardinal wants another piece of work done, a 
 very fine piece of work." 
 
 " The Cardinal? I will not make any more chalices 
 for your cardinals. I am sick of chalices, and mon 
 strances, and such stuff." 
 
 " It is none of those," answered Don Paolo quietly. 
 " The Cardinal wants a magnificent silver crucifix. 
 Will you undertake it ? It must be your greatest 
 work, if you do it at all." 
 
 " A crucifix ? " repeated Marzio, in a changed tone. 
 The angry gleam faded from his eyes, and a dreamy 
 look came into them as he let the heavy lids droop a 
 little, and remained silent, apparently lost in thought. 
 The women ceased gobbing, and watched his altered 
 face, while Gianbattista sank down into a chair and 
 absently fingered the pencil that had fallen across the 
 drawing- board. 
 
56 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX OHAP. Ill 
 
 " WiU you do it ? " asked Don Paolo, at last. 
 
 " A crucifix/' mused the artist. " Yes, I will make 
 a crucifix. I have made many, but I haVe never made 
 one to my mind. Yes, tell the Cardinal that I will 
 make it for him, if he will give me time." 
 
 " I do not think he will need it in less than three 
 or four months," answered Don Paolo. 
 
 " Four months that is not a long time for such a 
 work. But I will try." 
 
 Thereupon Marzio, whose manner had completely 
 changed, puffed at his pipe until it burned freely, and 
 then approached the table, glancing at Gianbattista 
 and Lucia as though nothing had happened. He drew 
 the drawing-board which the apprentice had been 
 using towards, him, and, taking the pencil from the 
 hand of the young man, began sketching heads on one 
 corner of the paper. 
 
 Don Paolo looked at him gravely. After the words 
 Marzio had spoken, it had gone against the priest's 
 nature to communicate to him the commission for the 
 sacred object. He had hesitated a moment, asking 
 himself whether it was right that such a man should 
 be allowed to do such work. Then the urgency of the 
 situation, and his knowledge of his brother's character, 
 had told him that the diversion might avert some 
 worse catastrophe, and he had quickly made up his 
 mind. Even now he asked himself whether he had 
 
CHAP, in MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 57 
 
 done right. It was a question of theology, which it 
 would have taken long to analyse, and Don Paolo had 
 other matters to think of in the present, so he dis 
 missed it from his mind. He wanted to be gone, and 
 he only stayed a few minutes to see whether Marzio's 
 mind would change again. He knew his brother well, 
 and he was sure that no violence was to be f6ared from 
 him, except in his speech. Such scenes as he had just 
 witnessed were not uncommon in the Pandolfi house 
 hold, and Don Paolo did not believe that any conse 
 quence was to be expected after he had left the house. 
 He only felt that Marzio had been more than usually 
 unreasonable, and that the artist could not possibly 
 mean seriously what he had proposed that evening. 
 
 The priest did not indeed think that Gianbattista 
 was altogether good enough for Lucia. The boy was 
 occasionally a little wild in his speech, and though he 
 was too much in awe of Don Paolo to repeat before 
 him any of the opinions he had learned from his 
 master, his manner showed occasionally that he was 
 inclined to take the side of the latter in most questions 
 that arose. But the habit of controlling his feelings 
 in order not to offend the man of the church, and 
 especially in order not to hurt Lucia's sensitive nature, 
 had begun gradually to change and modify the young 
 man's character. From having been a devoted admirer 
 of Marzio's political creed and extreme free thought, 
 
58 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, in 
 
 Gianbattista had fallen into the way of asking ques 
 tions of the chiseller, to see how he would answer 
 them ; and the answers had not always satisfied him. 
 Side by side with his increasing skill in his art, which 
 led him to compare himself with his teacher, there 
 had grown up in the apprentice the habit of compar 
 ing himself with Marzio from the intellectual point of 
 view as well as from the artistic. The comparison 
 did not appear to him advantageous to the elder man, 
 as he discovered, in his way of thinking, a lack of 
 logic on the one hand, and a love of frantic exag 
 geration on the other, which tended to throw a doubt 
 upon the whole system of ideas which had produced 
 these defects. The result was that the young man's 
 mental position was unbalanced, and he was inclined 
 to return to a more normal condition of thought. Don 
 Paolo did not know all this, but he saw that Gianbat 
 tista had grown more quiet during the last year, and 
 he hoped that his marriage with Lucia would complete 
 the change. To see her thrown into the arms of a 
 man like Gasparo Carnesecchi was more than the 
 priest's affection for his niece could bear. He hardly 
 believed that Marzio would seriously think again of 
 the scheme, and he entertained a hope that the sub 
 ject would not even be broached for some time to 
 come. 
 
 Marzio continued to draw in silence, and after a 
 
CHAP, in MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 59 
 
 few minutes, Don Paolo rose to take his leave. The 
 chiseller did not look up from his pencil. 
 
 "Good-night, Marzio let it be a good piece of 
 work," said Paolo. 
 
 " Good-night," growled the artist, his eyes still fixed 
 on the paper. His brother saluted the rest and left 
 the room to go home to his lonely lodgings at the top 
 of an old palace, in the first floor of which dwelt the 
 Cardinal, whom he served as secretary. "When he was 
 gone, Lucia rose silently and went to her room, leaving 
 her father and mother with Gianbattista. The Signora 
 Pandolfi hesitated as to whether she should follow her 
 daughter or stay with the two men. Her woman's 
 nature feared further trouble, and visions of drawn 
 knives rose before her swollen eyes, so that, after 
 making as though she would rise twice, she finally 
 remained in her seat, her fat hands resting idly upon 
 her knees, staring at her husband and Gianbattista 
 The latter sat gloomily watching the paper on which 
 his master was drawing. 
 
 " Marzio, you do not mean it ? " said Maria Luisa, 
 after a long interval of silence. The good woman did 
 not possess the gift of tact. 
 
 " Do you not see that I have an idea ? " asked her 
 husband crossly, by way of an answer, as he bent his 
 head over his work. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," said the Signora Pandolfi, in 
 
60 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. HI 
 
 a humble tone, looking piteously at Gianbattista. The 
 apprentice shook his head, as though he meant that 
 nothing could be done for the present. Then she rose 
 slowly, and with a word of good-night as she turned 
 to the door, she left the room. The two men were 
 alone. 
 
 " Now that nobody hears us, Sor Marzio, what do 
 you mean to do ? " asked Gianbattista in a low voice. 
 Marzio shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " What I told you," he answered, after a few seconds. 
 " Do you suppose that rascally priest of a brother has 
 made me change my mind ? " 
 
 " No, I did not expect that, but I am not a priest ; 
 nor am I a boy to be turned round your fingers and 
 put off in this way sent to the wash like dirty linen. 
 You must answer to me for what you said this evening." 
 
 " Oh, I will answer as much as you please," replied 
 the artist, with an evil smile. 
 
 "Very well. Why do you want to turn me out, 
 after promising for years that I should marry Lucia 
 with your full consent when she was old enough ? " 
 
 " Why ? because you have turned yourself out, to 
 begin with. Secondly, because Carnesecchi is a better 
 match for my daughter than a beggarly chiseller. 
 Thirdly, because I please ; and fourthly, because I do 
 not care a fig whether you like it or not. Are those 
 reasons sufficient or not ? " 
 
CHAP. HI MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 61 
 
 " They may satisfy you," answered Gianbattista. 
 " They leave something to be desired in the way of 
 logic, in my humble opinion." 
 
 " Since I have told you that I do not care for your 
 opinion " 
 
 ."I will probably find means to make you care for 
 it," retorted the young man. "Don Paolo is quite 
 right, in the first place, when he tells you that the 
 thing is simply impossible. Fathers do not compel 
 their daughters to marry in this century. Will you 
 do me the favour to explain your first remark a little 
 more clearly ? You said I had turned myself out 
 how ? " 
 
 " You have changed, Tista," said Marzio, leaning 
 back to sharpen his pencil, and staring at the wall. 
 " You change every day. You are not at all what 
 you used to be, and you know it. You are going 
 back to the priests. You fawn on my brother like 
 a dog." 
 
 " You are joking," answered the apprentice. " Of 
 course I would not want to make trouble in your 
 house by quarrelling with Don Paolo, even if I disliked 
 him. I do not dislike him. This evening he showed 
 that he is a much better man than you." 
 
 "Dear Gianbattista," returned Marzio in sour tones, 
 " every word you say convinces me that I have done 
 right. Besides, I am busy you see you disturb my 
 
62 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. HI 
 
 ideas. If you do not like my house, you can leave it 
 I will not keep you. I daresay I can educate another 
 artist before I die. You are really only fit to swing a 
 censer behind Paolo, or at the heels of some such 
 animal." 
 
 "Perhaps it would be better to do that than to 
 serve the mass you sing over your work-bench every 
 day," said Gianbattista. "You are going too far, Sor 
 Marzio. One may trifle with women and their feel 
 ings. You had better not attempt it with men." 
 
 " Such as you and Paolo ? There was once a mule 
 in the Pescheria Yecchia; when he got half-way 
 through he did not like the smell of the fish, and he 
 said to his leader, ' I will turn back.' The driver 
 pulled him along. Then said the mule, ' Do not trifle 
 with me. I will turn round and kick you/ But 
 there is not room for a mule to turn round in the 
 Pescheria Vecchia. The mule found it out, and fol 
 lowed the man through the fish market after all. I 
 hope that is clear ? It means that you are a fool." 
 
 " What is the use of bandying words ? " cried the 
 apprentice angrily. " I will offer you a bargain, Sor 
 Marzio. I will give you your choice. Either I will 
 leave the house, and in that case I will carry off 
 Lucia and marry her in spite of you. Or else I will 
 stay here but if Lucia marries any one else, I will 
 cut your throat. Is that a fair bargain ?" 
 
CHAP, ill MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 63 
 
 " Perfectly fair, though I cannot see wherein the 
 bargain consists," answered Marzio, with a rough laugh. 
 " I prefer that you should stay here. I will run the 
 risk of being murdered by you, any day, and you may 
 run the risk of being sent to the galleys for life, if you 
 choose. You will be well cared for there, and you can 
 try your chisel on paving-stones for a change from 
 silver chalices." 
 
 "Never mind what becomes of me afterwards, in 
 that case," said the young man. " If Lucia is married 
 to some one else, I do not care what happens. So you 
 have got your warning ! " 
 
 " Thank you. If you had remained what you used 
 to be, you might have married her without further 
 difficulty. But to have you and Lucia and Maria 
 Luisa and Paolo all conspiring against me from morn 
 ing till night is more than I can bear. Good-night, 
 and the devil be with you, you fool ! " 
 
 " M cum spiritu tuo" answered Gianbattista as he 
 left the room. 
 
 When Marzio was alone he returned to the head he 
 was drawing a head of wonderful beauty, inclined 
 downwards and towards one side, bearing a crown of 
 thorns, the eyelids drooped and shaded in death. He 
 glanced at it with a bitter smile and threw aside the 
 pencil without making another stroke upon the paper. 
 
 He leaned back, lighted another pipe, and began to 
 
64 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, in 
 
 reflect upon the events of the evening. He was glad 
 it was over, for a strange weakness in his violent 
 nature made it hard for him to face such scenes unless 
 he were thoroughly roused. Now, however, he was 
 satisfied. For a long tune he had seen with growing 
 distrust the change in Gianbattista's manner, and in 
 the last words he had spoken to the apprentice he had 
 uttered what was really in his heart. He was afraid 
 of being altogether overwhelmed by the majority 
 against him in his own house. He hated Paolo with 
 his whole soul, and he had hated him all his life. This 
 calm, obliging brother of his stood between him and all 
 peace of mind. It was not the least of his grievances 
 that he received most of his commissions through the 
 priest who was constantly in relation with the cardinal 
 and rich prelates who were the patrons of his art. The 
 sense of obligation which he felt was often almost 
 unbearable, and he longed to throw it off. The man 
 whom he hated for his own sake and despised for his 
 connection with the church, was daily in his house ; at 
 every turn he met with Paolo's tacit disapprobation or 
 outspoken resistance. For a long time Paolo had 
 doubted whether the marriage between the two young 
 people would turn out well, and while he expressed his 
 doubts Marzio had remained stubborn in his deter 
 mination. Latterly, and doubtless owing to the 
 change in Gianbattista's character, Paolo had always 
 
CHAP, ill MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 65 
 
 epoken of the marriage with favour. This sufficed at 
 first to rouse Marzio's suspicions, and ultimately led 
 to his opposing with all his might what he had so 
 long and so vigorously defended ; he resolved to be 
 done with what he considered a sort of slavery, and at 
 one stroke to free himself from his brother's influence, 
 and to assure Lucia's future. During several weeks he 
 had planned the scene which had taken place that 
 evening, waiting for his opportunity, trying to make 
 sure of being strong enough to make it effective, and 
 revolving the probable answers he might expect from 
 the different persons concerned. It had come, and he 
 was satisfied with the result. 
 
 . Marzio Pandolfi's intelligence lacked logic. In its 
 place he possessed furious enthusiasm, an exaggerated 
 estimate of the value of his social doctrines, and a 
 whole vocabulary of terms by which to describe the 
 ideal state after which he hankered. But though he 
 did not possess a logic of his own, his life was itself 
 the logical result of the circumstances he had created. 
 As, in the diagram called the parallelogram of forces, 
 various conflicting powers are seen to act at a point, 
 producing an inevitable resultant in a fixed line, so in 
 the plan of Marzio's life, a number of different tend 
 encies all acted at a centre, in his over -strained 
 intelligence, and continued to push him in a direction 
 he had not expected to follow, and of which even 
 
66 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, in 
 
 now he was far from suspecting the ultimate termi 
 nation. 
 
 He had never loved his brother, but he had loved 
 his wife with all his heart. He had begun to love 
 Lucia when she was a child. He had felt a sort of 
 admiring fondness for Gianbattista Bordogni, and a 
 decided pride in the progress and the talent of the 
 apprentica By degrees, as the prime mover, his 
 hatred for Paolo, gained force, it had absorbed his 
 affection for Maria Luisa, who, after eighteen years of 
 irreproachable wifehcod, seemed to Marzio to be no 
 thing better than an accomplice and a spy of his 
 brother's in the domestic warfare. Next, the lingering 
 love for his child had been eaten up in the same way, 
 and Marzio said to himself that the girl had joined the 
 enemy, and was no longer worthy of his confidence. 
 Lastly, the change in Gianbattista's character and 
 ideas seemed to destroy the last link which bound 
 the chiseller to his family. Henceforth, his hand was 
 against each one of his household, and he fancied that 
 they were all banded together against himself. 
 
 Every step had followed as the inevitable conse 
 quence of what had gone before. The brooding and 
 suspicious nature of the artist had persisted in seeing 
 in each change in himself the blackest treachery in 
 those who surrounded him. His wife was an im 
 placable enemy, his daughter a spy, his apprentice a 
 
CHAP, in MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 67 
 
 traitor, and as for Paolo himself, Marzio considered 
 him the blackest of villains. For all this chain of 
 hatreds led backwards, and was concentrated with ten 
 fold virulence in his great hatred for his brother. 
 Paolo, in his estimation, was the author of all the 
 evil, the sole ultimate cause of domestic discord, the 
 arch enemy of the future, the representative, in 
 Marzio's sweeping condemnation, not only of the 
 church and of religion, but of that whole fabric of 
 existing society which the chiseller longed to tear 
 down. 
 
 Marzio's socialism, for so he called it, had one good 
 feature. It was sincere of its kind, and disinterested. 
 He was not of the common herd, a lazy vagabond, in 
 capable of continuous work, or of perseverance in any 
 productive occupation, desiring only to be enriched by 
 impoverishing others, one of the endless rank and file 
 of Italian republicans, to whom the word " republic " 
 means nothing but bread without work, and the liberty 
 which consists in howling blasphemies by day and 
 night in the public streets. His position was as differ 
 ent from that of a private in the blackguard battalion 
 as his artistic gifts and his industry were superior to 
 those of the throng. He had money, he had talent, 
 and he had been very successful in -his occupation. 
 He had nothing to gain by the revolutions he dreamed 
 of, and he might lose much by any upsetting of the 
 
68 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, in 
 
 existing laws of property. He was, therefore, perfectly 
 sincere, so far as his convictions went, and disinterested 
 to a remarkable degree. These conditions are often 
 found in the social position of the true fanatic, who is 
 the more ready to run to the greatest length, because he 
 entertains no desire to better his own state. Marzio's 
 real weakness lay in the limited scope of his views, 
 and in a certain timid prudence which destroyed his 
 power of initiative. He was an economical man, who 
 distrusted the future ; and though such a disposition 
 produces a good effect in causing a man to save money 
 against the day of misfortune, it is incompatible with 
 the career of the true enthusiast, who must be ready 
 to risk everything at any moment. The man who 
 would move other men, and begin great changes, must 
 have an enormous belief in himself, an unbounded 
 confidence in his cause, and a large faith in the future, 
 amounting to the absolute scorn of consequence. 
 
 These greater qualities Marzio did not possess, and 
 through lack of them the stupendous results of which 
 he was fond of talking had diminished to a series of 
 domestic quarrels, in which he was not always victori 
 ous. His hatred of the church was practically reduced 
 to the detestation of his brother, and to an unreasoning 
 jealousy of his brother's influence in his home. His 
 horror of social distinctions, which speculated freely 
 upon the destruction of the monarchy, amounted in 
 
OHAP. m MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX 69 
 
 practice to nothing more offensive than a somewhat 
 studious rudeness towards the few strangers of high 
 position who from time to time visited the workshop in 
 the Via dei Falegnami. In the back room of his inn, 
 Marzio could find loud and cutting words in which to 
 denounce the Government, the monarchy, the church, 
 and the superiority of the aristocracy. In real fact, 
 Marzio took off his hat when he met the king in the 
 street, paid his taxes with a laudable regularity, and 
 increased the small fortune he had saved by selling 
 sacred vessels to the priests against whom he inveighed. 
 Instead of burning the Vatican and hanging the Col 
 lege of Cardinals to the pillars of the Colonnade, 
 Marzio Pandolfi felt a very unpleasant sense of con 
 straint in the presence of the only priest with whom 
 he ever conversed, his brother Paolo. When, on very 
 rare occasions, he broke out into angry invective, and 
 ventured to heap abuse upon the calm individual who 
 excited his wrath, he soon experienced the counter- 
 shock in the shape of a strong conviction that he had 
 injured his position rather than bettered it, and the 
 melancholy conclusion forced itself upon him that by 
 abusing Paolo he himself lost influence in his own 
 house, and not unfrequently called forth the contempt 
 of those he had sought to terrify. 
 
 The position was galling in the extreme ; for, like 
 many artists who are really remarkable in their pro- 
 
70 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, in 
 
 fession, Marzio was very vain of his intellectual superi 
 ority in other branches. It may be a question whether 
 vanity is not essential to any one who is forced to 
 compete in excellence with other gifted men. Vanity 
 means emptiness, and in the case of the artist it means 
 that emptiness which craves to be filled with praise. 
 The artist may doubt his own work, but he is bitterly 
 disappointed if other people doubt it also. Marzio 
 had his full share of this kind of vanity, which, as in 
 most cases, extended beyond the sphere of his art. 
 How often does one hear two or three painters or 
 sculptors who are gathered together in a studio, laying 
 down the law concerning Government, society, and the 
 distribution of wealth. And yet, though they make 
 excellent statues and paint wonderful pictures, there 
 are very few instances on record of artists having 
 borne any important part in the political history of 
 their times. Not from any want of a desire to do so, 
 in many cases, but from the real want of the power; 
 and yet many of them believe themselves far more 
 able to solve political and social questions than the 
 men who represent them in the Parliament of their 
 country, or the persons who by innate superiority of 
 tact have made themselves the arbiters of society. 
 
 Marzio's vanity suffered terribly, for he realised the 
 wide difference that existed between his aims and the 
 result actually produced. For this reason he had de- 
 
CHAP, in MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 7l 
 
 termined to bring matters to a point of contention in 
 his household, in order to assert once and for all the 
 despotic authority which he believed to be his right. 
 He knew well enough that in proposing the marriage 
 of Lucia with Carnesecchi, he had hit upon a plan 
 which Paolo would oppose with all his might. It 
 seemed as though he could not have selected a ques 
 tion more certain to produce a hot contention. He 
 had brought forward his proposal boldly, and had not 
 hesitated to make a most virulent personal attack on 
 his brother when the latter had shown signs of opposi 
 tion. And yet, as he sat over his drawing board, 
 staring at the clouds of smoke that rose from his pipe, 
 he was unpleasantly conscious that he had not been 
 altogether victorious, that he had not played the part 
 of the despot to the end, as he had intended to do, 
 that he had suddenly felt his inferiority to Paolo's 
 calmness, and that upon hearing of the proposition 
 concerning the crucifix he had acted as though he had 
 received a bribe to be quiet. He bit his thin lips as 
 he reflected that all the family must have supposed 
 his silence from that moment to have been the effect 
 of the important commission which Paolo had com 
 municated to him ; for it seemed impossible that they 
 should understand the current of his thoughts. 
 
 As he glanced at the head he had drawn he under 
 stood himself better than others had understood him, 
 
72 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, in 
 
 for he saw on the corner of the paper the masterly 
 sketch of an ideal Christ he had sought after for years 
 without ever reaching it. He knew that that ideal 
 had presented itself to his mind at the very moment 
 when Paolo had proposed the work to him the result 
 perhaps, of the excitement under which he laboured at 
 the moment. From that instant he had been able to 
 think of nothing. He had been impelled to draw, 
 and the expression of his thought had driven every 
 thing else out of his mind. Paolo had gained a 
 fancied victory by means of a fancied bribe. Marzio 
 determined to revenge himself for the unfair advantage 
 his brother had then taken, by showing himself in 
 flexible in his resolution concerning the marriage. It 
 was but a small satisfaction to have braved Gian- 
 battista's boyish threats, after having seemed to accept 
 the bribe of a priest. 
 
CHAPTEE IV 
 
 ON the following morning, Marzio left the house 
 earlier than usual. Gianbattista had not finished 
 his black coffee, and was not in a humour to make 
 advances to his master, after the scene of the 
 previous evening. So he did not move from the 
 table when the chiseller left the room, nor did he 
 make any remark upon the hour. The door that led 
 to the stairs had hardly closed after Marzio, when 
 Lucia put her head into the room where Gianbattista 
 was seated. 
 
 " He is gone," said the young man ; " come in, we 
 can talk a few minutes." 
 
 " Tista," began Lucia, coming forward and laying 
 her fingers on his curly hair, " what did all that mean 
 last night ? Have you understood ?" 
 
 " Who understands that lunatic ! " exclaimed Gian 
 battista, passing his arm round the girl's waist, and 
 drawing her to him. " I only understand one thing, 
 we must be married as soon as possible and be done 
 
 with it. Is it not true, Lucia ? " 
 Yol. 6 D 
 
CHAP. IV 
 
 " I hope so," answered his companion, with a blush 
 and a sigh. " But I am so much afraid." 
 
 " Do not be afraid, leaVe it all to me, I will protect 
 you, my darling," replied the young man, tapping his 
 breast with the ready gesture of an Italian, as though 
 to prove his courage. 
 
 " Oh, I am sure of that ! But how can it be 
 managed ? Of course he cannot force me to marry 
 Carnesecchi, as Uncle Paolo explained to him. But 
 he will try, and he is so bad ! " 
 
 " Let him try, let him try," repeated Gianbattista. 
 " I made a bargain with him last night after you had 
 gone to bed. Do you know what I told him ? I 
 told him that I would stay with him, but that if you 
 married any one but me, I would cut his throat Sor 
 Marzio's throat, do you understand ? " 
 
 " Oh, Tista !" cried Lucia. " How did you ever have 
 the courage to tell him such a thing ? Besides, you 
 know, you would not do it, would you ? " 
 
 " Do not trouble yourself, he saw I was in earnest, 
 and he will think twice about it. Besides, he said 
 yesterday that I might have you if I would take you 
 away." 
 
 " A nice thing for a father to say of his daughter ! " 
 exclaimed the girl angrily. " And what did you 
 answer him then, my love ? " 
 
 " Oh ! I said that I had not the slightest objection to 
 
CHAP. IV MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 75 
 
 the proceeding. And then he tried to prove to me 
 that we should starve without him, and then he swore 
 at me like a Turk. What did it matter ? He said I 
 was changed. By Diana ! Any man would change, 
 just for the sake of not being like him ! " 
 
 " How do you mean that you are changed, dear ? 
 asked Lucia anxiously. 
 
 " Who knows ? He said I fawned on Don Paolo 
 like a dog, instead of hating the priests as I used to 
 do. What do you think, love ? " 
 
 " I think Uncle Paolo would laugh at the idea," 
 answered the girl, smiling herself, but rather sadly. 
 " I am afraid you are as bad as ever, in that way." 
 
 " I am not bad, Lucia. I begin to think I like 
 Don Paolo. He was splendid last night. Did you 
 see how he stared your father out of countenance, and 
 then turned him into a lamb with the order for the 
 crucifix ? Don Paolo has a much stronger will than 
 Sor Marzio, and a great deal more sense. He will 
 make your father change his mind." 
 
 " Of course it would be for the better if we could 
 be married without any objection, and I am very glad 
 you are growing fond of Uncle Paolo. But I have 
 seen it for some time. He is so good ! " 
 
 " Yes. That is the truth," answered Gianbattista 
 in meditative tone. " He is too good. It is not 
 natural And then he has a way of making me feel 
 
76 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, iv 
 
 it. Now, I would have strangled Sor Marzio last 
 night if your uncle had not been there, but he pre 
 vented me. Of course he was right. Those people 
 always are. But one hates to be set right by a priest. 
 It is humiliating ! " 
 
 " Well, it is better than not to be set right at all," 
 said Lucia. " You see, if you had strangled poor 
 papa, it would have been dreadful ! Oh, Tista, 
 promise me that you will not do anything violent ! 
 Of course he is very unkind, I know. But it would 
 be terrible if you were to be angry and hurt him. 
 You will not, Tista ? Tell me you will not ? " 
 " We shall see ; we shall see, my love ! " 
 " You do not love me if you will not promise." 
 " Oh, if that is all, my love, I will promise never 
 to lay a finger on him until you are actually married 
 
 to some one else. But then " Gianbattista 
 
 made the gesture which means driving the knife into 
 an enemy. 
 
 " Then you may do anything you please," answered 
 Lucia, with a laugh. " He will never make me marry 
 any one but you. You know that, my heart ! " 
 
 " In that case we ought to be married very soon," 
 argued the young man. " We need not live here, you 
 know. Indeed, it would be out of the question. We 
 will take one of those pretty little places in the new 
 quarter " 
 
CHAP. TV MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 77 
 
 " That is so far away," interrupted the girL 
 
 "Yes, but there is the tramway, and there are 
 omnibuses. It only takes a quarter of an hour." 
 
 " But you would be so far from me all day, my 
 love. I could not run into the studio at all hours, 
 and you would not come home for dinner. Oh! I 
 could not bear it ! " 
 
 "Very well, we will try and find something near 
 here," said Gianbattista, yielding the point. "We 
 will get a little apartment near the Minerva, where 
 there is sun." 
 
 "And we will have a terrace on the top of the 
 house, with pots of carnations." 
 
 " And red curtains on rings, that we can draw ; it 
 is such a pretty light when the sun shines through 
 them." 
 
 "And green wall paper with blue furniture," sug 
 gested Lucia. " It is so gay." 
 
 " Or perhaps the furniture of the same colour as the 
 paper you know they have it so in all fashionable 
 houses." 
 
 "Well, if it is really the fashion, I suppose we 
 must," assented the girl rather regretfully. 
 
 "Yes, it is the fashion, my heart, and you must 
 have everything in the fashion. But I must be going," 
 added the young man, rising from his seat. 
 
 " Already ? It is early, Tista " she hesitated 
 
78 MARZIO'S CRTJCIFIX CHAP, iv 
 
 "Dear Tista," she began again, her dark eyes resting 
 anxiously on his face, " what will you say to him in 
 the workshop? You will tell him that I would 
 rather die than marry Carnesecchi, that we are sol 
 emnly promised, that nothing shall part us ! You 
 will make him see reason, Tista, will you not ? I 
 cannot go to him, or I would ; and mamma, poor 
 mamma, is so afraid of him when he is in his humours. 
 There are only you and Uncle Paolo to manage him; 
 and after the way he insulted Uncle Paolo last night, 
 it will be all the harder. Think of it, Tista, while 
 you are at work, and bring me word when you come 
 to dinner." 
 
 " Never fear, love," replied Gianbattista confidently ; 
 " what else should I think of while I am hammering 
 away all day ? A little kiss, to give me courage." 
 
 In a moment he was gone, and his quick step 
 resounded on the stairs as he ran down, leaving Lucia 
 at the door above, to catch the last good-bye he called 
 up to her when he reached the bottom. His fresh 
 voice came up to her mingled with the rattle of the 
 lumbering carts in the street. She answered the cry 
 and went in. 
 
 Just then the sleepy Signora Pandolfi emerged from 
 her chamber, clad in the inevitable skirt and white 
 cotton jacket, her heavy black hair coiled in an irre 
 gular mass on the top of her head, and held in place 
 
CHAP. IT MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX 79 
 
 by hair-pins that seemed to be on the point of dropping 
 out. 
 
 " Ah, Lucia, my darling ! Such a night as I have 
 passed ! " she moaned, sinking into a chair beside the 
 table, on which the coffee-pot and the empty cups were 
 still standing. " Such a night, my dear ! I have not 
 closed an eye. I am sure it is the last judgment! 
 And this scirocco, too, it is enough to kill one ! " 
 
 " Courage, mamma," answered Lucia gaily. " Things 
 are never so bad as they seem." 
 
 " Oh, that monster, that monster ! " groaned the fat 
 lady. " He would make an angel lose his patience ! 
 Imagine, my dear, he insists that you shall be married 
 in a fortnight, and he has left me money to go and 
 buy things for your outfit 1 Oh dear ! What are we 
 to do ? I shall go mad, my dear, and you will all 
 have to take me to Santo Spirito ! Oh dear ! Oh 
 dear ! This scirocco ! " 
 
 " I think papa will go mad first," said Lucia. " I 
 never heard of such an insane proposition in my life. 
 All in a moment too I think I am to marry Tista 
 papa gets into a rage and patatunfate ! a new hus 
 band like a conjuror's trick, such a comedy ! I 
 expected to see the door open at every minute, 
 Pulcinella walk in and beat everybody with a 
 blown bladder! But Uncle Paolo did quite as 
 well" 
 
80 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. IV 
 
 " Oh, my head ! " complained the Signora PandolfL 
 w I have not slept a wink ! " 
 
 " And then it was shameful to see the way papa 
 grew quiet and submissive when Uncle Paolo gave him 
 the order for the crucifix ! If it had been anybody 
 but papa, I should have said that a miracle had been 
 performed. But poor papa ! No the miracle of the 
 soldi that is the truth. I would like to catch sight 
 of the saint who could work a miracle on papa ! 
 Capers, what a saint he would have to be ! " 
 
 " Bacchus ! " ejaculated Maria Luisa, " San Filippo 
 Neri would be nowhere ! The Holy Father WDuld 
 have to make a saint on purpose to convert that 
 monster ! A saint who should have nothing else to 
 do. Oh, how hot it is ! My head is splitting. What 
 are we to do, Lucia, my heart ? Tell me a little what 
 we are to do two poor women all alone oh 
 dear!" 
 
 " In the first place, it needs courage, mamma/' 
 answered Lucia, " and a cup of coffee. It is still hot, 
 and you have not had any " 
 
 "Coffee! Who thinks of coffee?" cried the Sig 
 nora Pandolfi, taking the cup from her daughter's 
 hands, and drinking the liquid with more calmness 
 than might have been anticipated. 
 
 "That is right," continued the girl. "Drink, 
 mamma, it will do you good. And then, and then 
 
CHAP. IT MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 81 
 
 let me see. And then you must talk to Suntarella 
 about the dinner. That old woman has no head " 
 
 " Dinner ! " cried the mother, " who thinks of dinner 
 at such a time ? And he left me the money for the 
 outfit, too ! Lucia, my love, I have the fever I will 
 go to bed." 
 
 " Eh ! What do you suppose ? That is a way out 
 of all difficulties," answered Lucia philosophically. 
 
 "But you cannot go out alone " 
 
 " I will stay at home in that case." 
 
 " And then he will come to dinner, and ask to see 
 the things " 
 
 " There will be no things to show him," returned 
 the young girl 
 
 " Well ? And then where should we be ? " inquired 
 the Signora Pandolfi. " I see him, my husband, com 
 ing back and finding that nothing has been done ! He 
 would tear his hair ! He would kill us ! He would 
 bring his broomstick of a lawyer here to marry you 
 this very afternoon, and what should we have gained 
 then ? It needs judgment, Lucia, my heart judgment, 
 judgment ! " repeated the fat lady, tapping her fore 
 head. 
 
 " Eh ! If you have not enough for two, mamma, I 
 do not know what we shall do." 
 
 "At the same time, something must be done," 
 mused Maria Luisa. " My head is positively bursting ! 
 
82 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, rv 
 
 We might go out and buy half a dozen handkerchiefs, 
 just to show him that we have begun. Do you think 
 a few handkerchiefs would quiet him, my love ? You 
 could always use them afterwards a dozen would be 
 too many " 
 
 " Bacchus ! " exclaimed Lucia, " I have only one 
 nose." 
 
 " It is a pity," answered her mother rather irrele 
 vantly. "After all, handkerchiefs are the cheapest 
 things, and if we spread them out, all six, on the green 
 sofa, they will make a certain effect these men! 
 One must deceive them, my child." 
 
 " Suppose we did another thing," began Lucia, look 
 ing out of the window. " We might get some things 
 in earnest, good things. They will always do for 
 the wedding with Tista. Meanwhile, papa will of 
 course have to change his mind, and then it will be 
 all right." 
 
 " What genius ! " cried the Signora Pandolfi. " Oh, 
 Lucia ! You have found it ! And then we can just 
 step into the workshop on our way that will reassure 
 your father." 
 
 "Perhaps, after all, it would be better to go and 
 tell him the truth," said Lucia, beginning to walk 
 slowly up and down the room. " He must know it, 
 sooner or later." 
 
 "Are you mad, Lucia?" exclaimed her mother. 
 
CHAP. IV MARZIO'S CEUCIFIX 83 
 
 holding up her hands in horror. " Just think how he 
 would act if you went and faced him ! " 
 
 " Then why not go and find Uncle Paolo ? " sug 
 gested the girl. " He will know what is best to be 
 done, and will help us, you may be sure. Of course, 
 he expected to see us before anything was done in the 
 matter. But I am not afraid to face papa all alone. 
 Besides, Tista is talking to him at this very minute. 
 I told him all he was to say, and he has so much 
 courage ! " 
 
 " I wish I had as much," moaned the Signora Pan- 
 dolfi, lapsing into hesitation. 
 
 "Come, mamma, I will decide for you," said Lucia. 
 "We will go and find Uncle Paolo, and we will do 
 exactly as he advises." 
 
 " After all, that is best," assented her mother, rising 
 slowly from her seat. 
 
 Half an hour later they left the house upon their 
 errand, but they did not enter the workshop on their 
 way. Indeed, if they had, they would have been sur 
 prised to find that Marzio was not there, and that 
 Gianbattista was consequently not talking to him as 
 Lucia had supposed. 
 
 When Gianbattista reached the workshop, he was 
 told that Marzio had only remained five minutes, and 
 had gone away so soon as everybody was at work. He 
 hesitated a moment, wondering whether he might not 
 
84 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, iv 
 
 go home again and spend another hour in Lucia's com 
 pany; but it was not possible to foretell whether Marzio 
 would be absent during the whole morning, and Gian- 
 battista decided to remain. Moreover, the peculiar 
 smell of the studio brought with it the idea of work, 
 and with the idea came the love of the art, not equal, 
 perhaps to the love of the woman but more familiar 
 from the force of habit. 
 
 All men feel such impressions, and most of all those 
 who follow a fixed calling, and are accustomed to do 
 their work in a certain place every day. Theophile 
 Gautier confessed in his latter days that he could not 
 work except in the office of the Moniteur elsewhere, 
 he said, he missed the smell of the printers' ink, which 
 brought him ideas. Artists know well the effect of the 
 atmosphere of the studio. Five minutes of that paint- 
 laden air suffice to make the outer world a mere dream, 
 and to recall the reality of work. There was an old 
 dressing-gown to which Thackeray was attached as to 
 a friend, and which he believed indispensable to com 
 position. Balzac had his oval writing-room, when he 
 grew rich, and the creamy white colour of the tapestries 
 played a great part in his thoughts. The blacksmith 
 loves the smoke of the forge and the fumes of hot iron 
 on the anvil, and the chiseller's fingers burn to handle 
 the tools that are strewn on the wooden bench. 
 
 Gianbattista stood at the door of the studio, and had 
 
CHAP. IT MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 85 
 
 he been master instead of apprentice, he could not have 
 resisted the desire to go to his place and take up the 
 work he had left on the previous evening. In a few 
 minutes he was hammering away as busily as though 
 there were no such thing as marriage in the world, and 
 nothing worth living for but the chiselling of beautiful 
 arabesques on a silver ewer. His head was bent over 
 his hands, his eyes followed intently the smallest 
 movements of the tool he held, he forgot everything 
 else, and became wholly absorbed in his occupation. 
 
 Nevertheless, much of a chiseller's work is mechani 
 cal, and as the smooth iron ran in and out of the tiny 
 curves under the gentle tap of the hammer, the young 
 man's thoughts went back to the girl he had left at 
 the top of the stairs a quarter of an hour earlier ; 
 he thought of her, as he did daily, as his promised 
 wife, and he fell to wondering when it would be, and 
 how it would be. They often talked of the place in 
 which they would live, as they had done that morning ; 
 and as neither of them was very imaginative, there 
 was a considerable similarity between the speculations 
 they indulged in at one time and at another. It was 
 always to be a snug home, high up, with a terrace, pots 
 of carnations, and red curtains. Their only difference 
 of opinion concerned the colour of the walls and furni 
 ture. Like most Italians, they had very little sense of 
 colour, and thought only of having everything gay, aa 
 
86 MARZIO'S CEUCIFIX CHAP. IT 
 
 they called it ; that is to say, the upholstery was to be 
 chosen of the most vivid hues, probably of those hor 
 rible tints known as aniline. Italians, as a rule, and 
 especially those who belong to the same class as the 
 Pandolfi family, have a strong dislike for the darker 
 and softer tones. To them anything which is not vivid 
 is sad, melancholy, and depressing to the senses. 
 Gianbattista saw in his mind's eye a little apartment 
 after his own heart, and was happy in the idea. But, 
 as he followed the train of thought, it led him to the 
 comparison of the home to which he proposed to take 
 his wife with the one in which they now lived under 
 her father's roof, and suddenly the scene of the previous 
 evening rose clearly in the young man's imagination. 
 He dropped his hammer, and stared up at the grated 
 windows. 
 
 He went over the whole incident, and perhaps for 
 the first time realised its true importance, and all the 
 danger there might be in the future should Marzio 
 attempt to pursue his plan to the end. Gianbattista 
 had only once seen the lawyer who was thus suddenly 
 thrust into his place. He remembered a thin, cadaver 
 ous man, in a long and gloomy black coat, but that 
 was all. He did not recall his voice, nor the expres 
 sion of his face ; he had only seen him once, and had 
 thought little enough of the meeting. It seemed alto 
 gether impossible, and beyond the bounds of anything 
 
CHAP. IV 
 
 87 
 
 rational, that this stranger should ever really be brought 
 forward to be Lucia's husband. 
 
 For a moment the whole thing looked like an evil 
 dream, and Gianbattista smiled as he looked down 
 again at his work. Then the reality of the occurrence 
 rose up again and confronted him stubbornly. He was 
 not mistaken, Marzio had actually pronounced those 
 words, and Don Paolo had sprung forward to prevent 
 Gianbattista from attacking his master then and there. 
 The young man looked at his work, holding his tools 
 in his hands, but hesitating to lay the point of the 
 chisel on the silver, as he hesitated to believe the 
 evidence of his memory. 
 
CHAPTEE V 
 
 MARZIO had risen early that morning, as has been 
 said, and had left the house before any one but 
 Gianbattista was up. He was in reality far from 
 inclined to drink his coffee in the company of his 
 apprentice, and would have avoided it, if possible. 
 Nor did he care to meet Lucia until he had found 
 time and occasion to refresh his anger. His wife was 
 too sleepy to quarrel, and hardly seemed to under 
 stand him when he gave her money and bade her 
 look to Lucia's outfit, adding that the wedding was to 
 take place immediately. 
 
 " Will you not let me sleep in peace, even in the 
 morning ?" she groaned. 
 
 " Magari ! I wish you would sleep, and for ever I " 
 growled Marzio, as he left the room. 
 
 He drank his coffee in silence, and went out. After 
 looking into the workshop he walked slowly away in 
 the direction of the Capitol. The damp morning air 
 was pleasant to him, and the gloomy streets through 
 which he passed were agreeable to his state of feeling, 
 
CHAr. v MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 89 
 
 He wished Rome might always wear such a dismal veil 
 of dampness, scirocco, and cloud. 
 
 A man in a bad humour will go out of his way to 
 be rained upon and blown against by the weather. We 
 would all like to change our surroundings with our 
 moods, to fill the world with sunshine when we are 
 happy, and with clouds when we have stumbled in the 
 labyrinths of life. Lovers wish that the whole earth 
 might be one garden, crossed and recrossed by silent 
 moon-lit paths ; and when love has taken the one and 
 left the other, he who stays behind would have his 
 garden changed to an angry ocean, and the sweet moss 
 banks to storm-beaten rocks, that he may drown in the 
 depths, or be dashed to pieces by the waves, before he 
 has had time to know all that he has lost. 
 
 As we grow older, life becomes the expression of a 
 mood, according to the way we have lived. He who 
 seeks peace will find that with advancing age the 
 peaceful moment, that once came so seldom, returns 
 more readily, and that at last the moments unite to 
 make hours, and the hours to build up days and years. 
 He who stoops to petty strife will find that the oft- 
 recurring quarrel has power to perpetuate the discon 
 tented weakness out of which it springs, and that it 
 can make all life a hell. He who rejoices in action 
 will learn that activity becomes a habit, and at last ex 
 cludes the possibility of rest, and the desire for it ; and 
 
90 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. V 
 
 his lot is the best, for the momentary gladness in a 
 great deed well done is worth a millennium of sinless, 
 nerveless tranquillity. The positive good is as much 
 better than the negative " non-bad," as it is better to 
 save a life than not to destroy a life. But whatever 
 temper of mind we choose will surely become chronic 
 in time, and will be known to those among whom we 
 live as our temper, our own particular temper, as dis 
 tinguished from the tempers of other people. 
 
 Marzio had begun life in a bad humour. He 
 delighted in his imaginary grievances, and inflicted his 
 anger on all who came near him, only varying the 
 manifestation of it to suit the position in which he 
 chanced to find himself. With his wife he was over 
 bearing ; with his brother he was insolent ; with his 
 apprentice he was sullen ; and with his associates at 
 the old Falcone he played the demagogue. The reason 
 of these phases was very simple. His wife could not 
 oppose him, Don Paolo would not wrangle with him, 
 Gianbattista imposed upon him by his superior calm 
 and strength of character, and, lastly, his socialist 
 friends applauded him and nattered his vanity. It is 
 impossible for a weak man to appear always the same, 
 and his weakness is made the more noticeable when 
 he affects strength. The sinews of goodness are 
 courage, moral and physical, a fact which places all 
 really good men and women beyond the reach of 
 
CHAP, v MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 91 
 
 ridicule and above the high-water mark of the world's* 
 contempt. 
 
 Marzio lacked courage, and his virulence boiled most 
 hotly when he had least to fear for his personal safety. 
 It was owing to this innate weakness that such a 
 combination of artistic sensitiveness and spasmodic 
 arrogance was possible. The man's excitable imagina 
 tion apprehended opposition where there was none, and 
 his timidity made him fear a struggle, and hate him 
 self for fearing it. As soon as he was alone, however, 
 his thoughts generally returned to his art, and found 
 expression in the delicate execution of the most ex 
 quisite fancies. Under other circumstances his char 
 acter might have developed in a widely different way ; 
 his talent would still have been the same. There is a 
 sort of nervous irritability which acts as a stimulant 
 upon the faculties, and makes them work faster. With 
 Marzio this unnatural state was chronic, and had 
 become so because he had given himself up to it. It 
 is a common disease in cities, where a man is forced to 
 associate with his fellow-men, and to compete with 
 them, whether he is naturally inclined to do so or not. 
 If Marzio could have exercised his art while living as 
 a hermit on the top of a lonely mountain he might 
 have been a much better man. 
 
 He almost understood this himself as he walked 
 slowly through the Via delle Botteghe Oscure "the 
 
92 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. T 
 
 street of dark shops " in the early morning. He was 
 thinking of the crucifix he was to make, and the 
 interest he felt in it made him dread the consequences 
 of the previous night's domestic wrangling. He wanted 
 to be alone, and at the same time he wanted to see 
 places and things which should suggest thoughts to 
 him. He did not care whither he went so long as he 
 kept out of the new Eome. When he reached the 
 little garden in front of San Marco he paused, looked 
 at the deep doorway of the church, remembered the 
 barbarous mosaics within, and turned impatiently into 
 a narrow street on the right the beginning of the 
 Via di Marforio. 
 
 The network of by-ways in this place is full of old- 
 time memories. Here is the Via Giulio Romano, 
 where the painter himself once lived ; here is the 
 Macel dei Corvi, where Michael Angelo once lodged ; 
 hard by stood the statue of Marforio, christened by the 
 mediaeval Romans after Martis Forum, and famous as 
 the interlocutor of Pasquino. The place was a centre 
 of artists and scholars in those days. Many a simple 
 question was framed here, to fit the two-edged biting 
 answer, repeated from mouth to mouth, and carefully 
 written down among Pasquino's epigrams. First of all 
 the low-born Roman hates all that is, and his next 
 thought is to express his hatred in a stinging satire 
 without being found out. 
 
CHAP. V MARZIO'S CKUCIFIX 93 
 
 Like every real Roman, Marzio thought of old Mar- 
 forio as he strolled up the narrow street towards the 
 Capitol, and regretted the lawless days of conspiracy 
 and treacherous deeds when every man's hand was 
 against his fellow. He wandered on, his eyes cast 
 down, and his head bent. Some one jostled against 
 him, walking quickly in the opposite direction. He 
 looked up and recognised Gasparo Carnesecchi's sallow 
 face and long nose. 
 
 " Eh ! Sor Marzio is it you ? " asked the lawyer. 
 
 " I think so/' answered the artist. " Excuse me, I 
 was thinking of something." 
 
 "No matter. Of what were you thinking, then? 
 Of Pasquino ? " 
 
 " Why not ? But I was thinking of something 
 else. You are in a hurry, I am sure. Otherwise we 
 would speak of that affair." 
 
 " I am never in a hurry when there is business to be 
 treated," replied Carnesecchi, looking down the street 
 and preparing to listen. 
 
 " You know what I mean," Marzio began. " The 
 matter we spoke of two days ago my plans for my 
 daughter." 
 
 The lawyer glanced quickly at his friend and 
 assumed an indifferent expression. He was aware 
 that his position was socially superior to that of the 
 silvex-chiseller, in spite of Marzio's great talent. But 
 
94 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHU.P. T 
 
 he knew also that Lucia was to have a dowry, and 
 that she would ultimately inherit all her father pos 
 sessed. A dowry covers a multitude of sins in the 
 eyes of a man to whom money is the chief object in 
 life. Carnesecchi, therefore, meant to extract as many 
 thousands of francs from Marzio as should be possible, 
 and prepared himself to bargain. The matter was by 
 no means settled, in spite of the chiseller's instructions 
 to his wife concerning the outfit. 
 
 "We must talk," said Carnesecchi. "Not that I 
 should be altogether averse to coming easily to an 
 understanding, you know. But there are many things 
 to be considered. Let us see." 
 
 " Yes, let us see," assented the other. " My 
 daughter has education. She is also sufficiently well 
 instructed. She could make a fine marriage. But 
 then, you see, I desire a serious person for my son- 
 in-law. What would you have ? One must be 
 prudent." 
 
 It is not easy to define exactly what a Eoman 
 means by the word " serious." In some measure it is 
 the opposite of gay, and especially of what is young 
 and unsettled. The German use of the word Philistine 
 expresses it very nearly. A certain sober, straitlaced 
 way of looking at life, which was considered to repre 
 sent morality in Kome fifty years ago; a kind of 
 melancholy superiority over all sorts of amusements, 
 
CHAP. T MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 95 
 
 joined with a considerable asceticism and the most 
 rigid economy in the household that is what was 
 meant by the word " serious." To-day its signification 
 has been slightly modified, but a serious man un uomo 
 serio still represents to the middle -class father the 
 ideal of the correct son-in-law. 
 
 " Eh, without prudence ! " exclaimed Carnesecchi, 
 elliptieally, as though to ask where he himself would 
 have been had he not possessed prudence in abund 
 ance. 
 
 " Exactly," answered Marzio, biting off the end of 
 a common cigar and fixing his eyes on the lawyer's 
 thin, keen face. " Precisely. I think of course I 
 do not know but I think that you are a serious man. 
 But then, I may be mistaken." 
 
 " Well, it is human to err, Sor Marzio. But then, 
 I am no longer of that age what shall I say ? 
 Everybody knows I am serious. Do I lead the life 
 of the caf ? Do I wear out my shoes in Piazza 
 Colonna ? Capers ! I am a serious man." 
 
 " Yes," answered Marzio, though with some hesita 
 tion, as though he were prepared to argue even this 
 point with the sallow -faced lawyer. He struck a 
 match on the gaudy little paper box he carried and 
 began to smoke thoughtfully. " Let us make a couple 
 of steps," he said at last. 
 
 Both men moved slowly on for a few seconds, and 
 
96 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. V 
 
 then stopped again. In Italy " a couple of steps " is 
 taken literally. 
 
 "Let us see," said Carnesecchi. "Let us look at 
 things as they are. In these days there are many 
 excellent opportunities for investing money." 
 
 " Hum ! " grunted Marzio, pulling a long face and 
 looking up under his eyebrows. " I know that is your 
 opinion, Sor Gasparo. I am sorry that you should put 
 so much faith in the stability of things. So you, too, 
 have got the malady of speculation. I suppose you 
 are thinking of building a Palazzo Carnesecchi out at 
 Sant' Agnese in eight floors and thirty-two apart 
 ments." 
 
 "Yes, I am mad," answered the lawyer ironically. 
 
 "Who knows?" returned the other. "I tell you 
 they are building a Pompeii in those new quarters. 
 When you and I are old men, crazy Englishmen will 
 pay two francs to be allowed to wander about the 
 ruins." 
 
 " It may be. I am not thinking of building. In 
 the first place I have not the soldi" 
 
 " And if you had ? " inquired Marzio. 
 
 " What nonsense ! Besides, no one has. It is all 
 done on credit, and the devil take the hindmost. But 
 if I really had a million eh ! I know what I would 
 do." 
 
 " Let us hear. I also know what I would do. 
 
CHAP, v MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 97 
 
 Basta ! What is the use of building castles in the 
 air ? " 
 
 " In the air, or not in the air, if I had a million, 
 I know what I would do." 
 
 " I would have a newspaper/' said Marzio. "Whew ! 
 how it would sting ! " 
 
 " It would sting you, and bleed you into the bar 
 gain," returned the lawyer with some contempt. "No 
 one makes money out of newspapers in these times. 
 If I had money, I would be a deputy. With prud 
 ence there is much to be earned in the Chambers, and 
 petitioners know that they must pay cash." 
 
 " It is certainly a career," assented the artist. " But, 
 as you say, it needs money for the first investment." 
 
 "Not so much as. a million, though. With a good 
 opening, and some knowledge of the law, a small sum 
 would be enough." 
 
 " It is a career, as I said," repeated Marzio. " But 
 five thousand francs would not give you an introduc 
 tion to it." 
 
 " Five thousand francs ! " exclaimed Carnesecchi, 
 with a scornful laugh. "With five thousand francs 
 you had better play at the lottery. After all, if you 
 lose, it is nothing." 
 
 " It is a great deal of money, Sor Gasparo," replied 
 the chiseller. " When you have made it little by 
 
 little then you know what it means." 
 Vol. 6 E 
 
98 MABZIO'S CRUCIFIX OHAP. T 
 
 " Perhaps. But we have been standing here more 
 than a quarter of an hour, and I have a client waiting 
 for me about a big affair, an affair of millions." 
 
 " Bacchus ! " ejaculated Marzio. " You are not in 
 a hurry about the matter. Well, we can always talk, 
 and I will not keep you." 
 
 " We might walk together, and say what we have 
 to say." 
 
 "I am going to the Capitol," Marzio said, for he 
 had been walking in that direction when they met. 
 
 " That is my way, too," answered the lawyer, for 
 getting that he had run into Marzio as he came down 
 the street. 
 
 " Eh ! That is lucky," remarked the artist with an 
 almost imperceptible smile. " As I was saying," he 
 continued, " five thousand francs is not the National 
 Bank, but it is a very pretty little sum, especially 
 when there is something more to be expected in the 
 future." 
 
 " That depends on the future. But I do not call it 
 a sum. Nothing under twenty thousand is a sum, 
 properly speaking." 
 
 " Who has twenty thousand francs ?" laughed Marzio, 
 shrugging his shoulders with an incredulous look. 
 
 "You talk as though Eome were an asylum for 
 paupers," returned Carnesecchi. "Who has twenty 
 thousand francs ? Why, everybody has. You have, 
 
CHAP. Y MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 99 
 
 I have. One must be a beggar not to have that 
 much. After all, we are talking about business, Sor 
 Marzio. Why should I not say it ? I have always 
 said that I would not marry with less than that for a 
 dowry. Why should one throw away one's oppor 
 tunities ? To please some one ? It is not my business 
 to try and please everybody. One must be just." 
 
 "Of course. What? Am I not just? But if 
 justice were done, where would some people be ? I 
 say it, too. If you marry my daughter, you will 
 expect a dowry. Have I denied it ? And then, five 
 thousand is not -so little. There is the outfit, too; I 
 have to pay for that." 
 
 " That is not my affair," laughed the lawyer. " That 
 is the business of the woman. But five thousand 
 francs is not my affair either. Think of the responsi 
 bilities a man incurs when he marries ! Five thousand ! 
 It is not even a cup of coffee ! You are talking to a 
 galantuomo, an honest man, Sor Marzio. Keflect a 
 little." 
 
 " I reflect yes ! I reflect that you ask a great 
 deal of money, Signor Carnesecchi," replied Marzio with 
 some irritation. 
 
 " I never heard that anybody gave money unless it 
 was asked for." 
 
 " It will not be for lack of asking if you do not get 
 it," retorted the artist. 
 
100 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. T 
 
 " What do you mean, Signer Pandolfi ? " inquired 
 Carnesecchi, drawing himself up to his full height and 
 then striking his hollow chest with his lean hand. 
 " Do you mean that I am begging money of you ? Do 
 you mean to insult an honest man, a galantuomo f 
 By heaven, Signor Pandolfi, I would have you know 
 that Gasparo Carnesecchi never asked a favour of a-ny 
 man ! Do you understand ? Let us speak clearly." 
 
 "Who has said anything?" asked Marzio. "Why 
 do you heat yourself in this way ? And then, after 
 all, we shall arrange this affair. You wish it. I wish 
 it. Why should it not be arranged ? If five thousand 
 does not suit you, name a sum. We are Christians 
 we will doubtless arrange. But we must talk. How 
 much should you think, Sor Gasparo ? * 
 
 " I have said it. As I told you just now, I have 
 always said that I would not marry with less than 
 eighteen thousand 'francs of dowry. What is the use 
 of repeating ? Words are not roasted chestnuts." 
 
 "Nor eighteen thousand francs either," answered 
 the other. " Magari ! I wish they were. You should 
 have them in a moment. But a franc is a franc." 
 
 " I did not say it was a cabbage," observed Carne 
 secchi. " After all, why should I many ? " 
 
 "Perhaps you will not," suggested Marzio, who was 
 encouraged to continue the negotiations, however, by 
 the diminution in the lawyer's demands. 
 
CHAP, v MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 101 
 
 " Why not ? " asked the latter sharply. " Do you 
 think nobody else has daughters ? " 
 
 " If it comes to that, why have you not married 
 before ? " 
 
 " Because I did not choose to marry," answered 
 Carnesecchi, beginning to walk more briskly, as though 
 to push the matter to a conclusion. 
 
 Marzio said nothing in reply. He saw that his 
 friend was pressing him, and understood that, to do 
 so, the lawyer must be anxious to marry Lucia. 
 The chiseller therefore feigned indifference, and was 
 silent for some minutes. At the foot of the steps of 
 the Capitol he stopped again. 
 
 " You know, Sor Gasparo/' he said, " the reason why 
 I did not arrange about Lucia's marriage a long time 
 ago, was because I was not particularly in a hurry to 
 have her married at all. And I am not in a hurry 
 now, either. We shall have plenty of opportunities 
 of discussing the matter hereafter. Good-bye, Sor 
 Gasparo. I have business up there, and that client of 
 yours is perhaps impatient about his millions." 
 
 "Good-bye," answered Carnesecchi. " There is 
 plenty of time, as you say. Perhaps we may meet 
 this evening at the Falcone." 
 
 " Perhaps," said Marzio drily, and turned away. 
 
 He had a good understanding of his friend's char 
 acter, and though in his present inood he would have 
 
102 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. T 
 
 been glad to fix the wedding day, and sign the marriage 
 contract at once, he had no intention of yielding to 
 Carnesecchi's exorbitant demands. The lawyer was in 
 need of money, Marzio thought, and as he himself was 
 the possessor of what the other coveted, there could be 
 little doubt as to the side on which the advantage 
 would ultimately be taken. Marzio went half-way up 
 the steps of the Capitol, and then stopped to look at 
 the two wretched wolves which the Roman municipality 
 thinks it incumbent on the descendants of Romulus to 
 support. He thought one of them very like Carnesecchi. 
 He watched the poor beasts a moment or two as they 
 tramped and swung and pressed their lean sides against 
 the bars of their narrow cage. 
 
 "What a sympathetic animal it is!" he exclaimed 
 aloud. A passer-by stared at him and then went on 
 hurriedly, fearing that he might be mad. Indeed, 
 there was a sort of family likeness between the lawyer, 
 the chiseller, and the wolves. 
 
 Other thoughts, however, occupied Marzio's atten 
 tion ; and as soon as he was sure that his friend was 
 out of the way, he descended the steps. He did not 
 care whither he went, but he had no especial reason 
 for climbing the steep ascent to the Capitol. The 
 crucifix his brother had ordered from him on the pre 
 vious evening engaged his attention, and it was as 
 much for the sake of being alone and of thinking about 
 
CHAP. V MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX 103 
 
 the work that he had taken his solitary morning walk, 
 as with the hope of finding in some church a sugges 
 tion or inspiration which might serve him. He knew 
 what was to be found in Eoman churches well enough ; 
 the Crucifixion in the Trinita dei Pellegrini and the 
 one in San Lorenzo in Lucina both by Guido Reni, 
 and both eminently unsympathetic to his conception of 
 the subject he had often looked at them, and did 
 not care to see them again. At last he entered the 
 Church of the Gesu, and sat down upon a chair in a 
 corner. 
 
 He did not look up. The interior of the building 
 was as familiar to him as the outside. He sat in pro 
 found thought, occasionally twisting his soft hat in his 
 hands, and then again remaining quite motionless. He 
 did not know how long he stayed there. The perfect 
 silence was pleasant to him, and when he rose he felt 
 that the idea he had sought was found, and could be 
 readily expressed. With a sort of sigh of satisfaction 
 he went out again into the air and walked quickly 
 towards his workshop. 
 
 The men told him that Gianbattista was busy 
 within, and after glancing sharply at the work which 
 was proceeding, Marzio opened the inner door and 
 entered the studio. He strode up to the table and 
 took up the body of the ewer, which lay on its pad 
 where he had left it the night before. He held it in 
 
104 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. Y 
 
 his hands for a moment, and then, pushing the leather 
 cushion towards Gianbattista, laid it down. 
 
 "Finish it," he said shortly; "I have something 
 else to do." 
 
 The apprentice looked up in astonishment, as though 
 he suspected that Marzio was jesting. 
 
 " I am afraid " he answered with hesitation. 
 
 " It makes no difference ; finish it as best you can ; 
 I am sick of it ; you will do it well enough. If it is 
 bad, I will take the responsibility." 
 
 " Do you mean me really to finish it altogether ?" 
 
 " Yes ; I tell you I have a great work on hand. I 
 cannot waste my time over such toys as acanthus 
 leaves and cherubs' eyes !" He bent down and ex 
 amined the thing carefully. " You had better lay 
 aside the neck and take up the body just where I left 
 it, Tista," he continued. " The scirocco is in your 
 favour. If it turns cold to-morrow the cement may 
 shrink, and you will have to melt it out again." 
 
 Marzio spoke to him as though there had not been 
 the least difference between them, as though Gianbat 
 tista had not proposed to cut his throat the night 
 before, as though he himself had not proposed to 
 marry Carnesecchi to Lucia. 
 
 " Take my place," he said. " The cord is the right 
 length for you, as it is too short for me. I am going 
 to model" 
 
CHAP, r MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 106 
 
 Without more words Marzio went and took a la.rge 
 and heavy slate from the corner, washed it carefully, 
 and dried it with his handkerchief. Then he provided 
 himself with a bowl full of twisted lengths of red wax, 
 and with a couple of tools he sat down to his work. 
 Gianbattista, having changed his seat, looked over the 
 tools his master had been using, with a workman's 
 keen glance, and, taking up his own hammer, attacked 
 the task given him. For some time neither of the 
 men spoke. 
 
 " I have been to church," remarked Marzio at last, 
 as he softened a piece of wax between his fingers 
 before laying it on the slate. The news was so 
 astounding that Gianbattista uttered an exclamation 
 of surprise. 
 
 " You need not be frightened," answered the 
 artist. " I only went to look at a picture, and I 
 did not look at it after all. I shall go to a great 
 many more churches before I have finished this 
 piece of work. You ought to go to the churches and 
 study, Tista. Everything is useful in our art pic 
 tures, statues, mosaics, metal-work. Now I believe 
 there is not a really good crucifix, nor a crucifixion, in 
 Eome. It is strange, too, I have dreamed of one all 
 my life." 
 
 Gianbattista did not find any answer ready in reply 
 to the statement. The words sounded so strangely in 
 
106 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. T 
 
 Marzio's mouth this morning, that the e.,pprentice was 
 confused. And yet the two had often discussed the 
 subject before. 
 
 " You do not seem to believe me/' continued Marzio 
 quietly. " I assure you it is a fact. The other things 
 of the kind are not much better either. Works of art, 
 perhaps, but not satisfactory. Even Michael Angelo's 
 Pieth in Saint Peter's does not please me. They say 
 it did not please the people of his time either he was 
 too young to do anything of that sort he was younger 
 than you, Tista, only twenty-four years old when he 
 made that statue." 
 
 " Yes," answered Gianbattista, " I have heard you 
 say so." He bent over his work, wondering what his 
 master meant by this declaration of taste. It seemed 
 as though Marzio felt the awkwardness of the situation 
 and was exerting himself to make conversation. The 
 idea was so strange that the apprentice could almost 
 have laughed. Marzio continued to soften the wax 
 between his fingers, and to lay the pieces of it on the 
 elate, pressing them roughly into the shape of a figure. 
 
 " Has Paolo been here ?" asked the master after 
 another long pause. 
 
 Gianbattista merely shook his head to express a 
 negative. 
 
 " Then he will come," continued Marzio. " He will 
 not leave me in peace all day, you may be sure." 
 
CHAP. V MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 10*7 
 
 " What should he come for ? He never comes," 
 said the young man. 
 
 " He will be afraid that I will have Lucia married 
 before supper time. I know him and he knows 
 me." 
 
 " If he thinks that, he does not know you at all," 
 answered Gianbattista quietly. 
 
 " Indeed ?" exclaimed Marzio, raising his voice to 
 the ironical tone he usually affected when any one 
 contradicted him. " To-day, to-morrow, or the next 
 day, what does it matter ? I told you last night that 
 I had made up my mind." 
 
 " And I told you that I had made up mine." 
 
 " Oh yes boy's threats ! I am not the man to be 
 intimidated by that sort of thing. Look here, Tista, I 
 am in earnest. I have considered this matter a long 
 time ; I have determined that I will not be brow 
 beaten any longer by two women and a priest cer 
 tainly not by you. If things go on as they are going, 
 I shall soon not be master in my own house." 
 
 " You would be the only loser," retorted Gianbat 
 tista. 
 
 " Have done with this, Tista ! " exclaimed Marzio 
 angrily. " I am tired of your miserable jokes. You 
 have gone over to the- enemy, you are Paolo's man, and 
 if I tolerate you here any longer it is merely because 
 I have taught you something, and you are worth your 
 
108 
 
 CHAP. V 
 
 wages. As for the way I have treated you during all 
 these years, I cannot imagine how I could have been 
 such a fool. I should think anybody might see 
 through your hypocritical ways/' 
 
 " Go on," said Gianbattista calmly, " You know 
 our bargain of last night." 
 
 " I will risk that. If I see any signs of your ami 
 able temper I will have you arrested for threatening 
 my life. I am not afraid of you, my boy, but I do 
 not care to die just at present. You have all had your 
 way long enough, I mean to have mine now." 
 
 " Let us talk reasonably, Sor Marzio. You say we 
 have had our way. You talk as though you had been 
 in slavery in your own house. I do not think that is 
 the opinion of your wife, nor of your daughter. As 
 for me, I have done nothing but execute your orders 
 for years, and if I have learnt something, it has not 
 been by trying to overrule you or by disregarding your 
 advice. Two years ago, you almost suggested to me 
 that I should marry Lucia. Of course, I asked nothing 
 better, and we agreed to wait until she was old enough. 
 We discussed the matter a thousand times. We settled 
 the details. I agreed to go on working for the same 
 small wages instead of leaving you, as I might have 
 done, to seek my fortune elsewhere. You see I am 
 calm, I acknowledge that I was grateful to you for 
 having taught me so much, and I am grateful stilL 
 
CHAP, v MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 109 
 
 You have just given me another proof of your con 
 fidence in putting this work into my hands to finish. 
 I am grateful for that. Well, we have talked of the 
 marriage often ; I have lived in your house ; I have 
 seen Lucia every day, for you have let us be together 
 as much as we pleased ; the result is that I not only 
 am more anxious to marry her than I was before I 
 love her ; I am not ashamed to say so. I know you 
 laugh at women and say they are no better than 
 monkeys with parrots' heads. I differ from you. Lucia 
 is an angel, and I love her as she loves me. What 
 happens ? One day you take an unreasonable dislike 
 for me, without even warning me of the fact, and then, 
 suddenly, last night, you come home and say she is to 
 marry the Avvocato Gasparo Carnesecchi. Now, for a 
 man who has taught me that there is no God but 
 reason, all this strikes me as very unreasonable. 
 Honestly, Sor Marzio, do you not think so your 
 self ? " 
 
 Marzio looked at his apprentice and frowned, as 
 though hesitating whether to lose his temper and 
 launch into the invective style, or to answer Gian- 
 battista reasonably. Apparently he decided in favour 
 of the more peaceable course. 
 
 " It is unworthy of a man who follows reason to 
 lose his self-control and indulge in vain threats/' he 
 answered, assuming a grand didactic air. " You attempt 
 
110 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. V 
 
 to argue with me. I will show you what argument 
 really means, and whither it leads. Now answer me some 
 questions, Tista, and I will prove that you are alto 
 gether in the wrong. When a man is devoted to a 
 great and glorious cause, should he not do everything 
 in his power to promote its success against those who 
 oppose it ? " 
 
 " Undoubtedly," assented Gianbattista. 
 
 "And should not a man be willing to sacrifice his 
 individual preferences in order to support and to 
 further the great end of his life ?" 
 
 " Bacchus ! I believe it ! " 
 
 " Then how much the more easy must it be for a 
 man to support his cause when there are no individual 
 preferences in the way ! " said Marzio triumphantly. 
 " That is true reason, my boy. That is the inevitable 
 logic of the great system." 
 
 " I do not understand the allegory," answered Gian 
 battista. 
 
 " It is as simple as roasted chestnuts," returned 
 Marzio. " Even if I liked you, it would be my duty 
 to prevent you from marrying Lucia. As I do not 
 like you you understand ? " 
 
 " I understand that," replied the young man. " For 
 some reason or other you hate me. But, apart from 
 the individual preferences, which you say it is youi 
 duty to overcome, I do not see why you are morally 
 
CHAP. T MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 111 
 
 obliged to hinder our marriage, after having felt 
 morally obliged to promote it ? " 
 
 " Because you are a traitor to the cause," cried 
 Marzio, with sudden fierceness. " Because you are a 
 friend of Paolo. Is not that enough ? " 
 
 " Poor Don Paolo seems to stick in your throat/' 
 observed Gianbattista. "I do not see what he has 
 done, except that he prevented me from killing you 
 last night ! " 
 
 " Paolo ! Paolo is a snake, a venomous viper ! It 
 is his business, his only aim in life, to destroy my 
 peace, to pervert my daughter from the wholesome 
 views I have tried to teach her, to turn you aside from 
 the narrow path of austere Italian virtue, to draw you 
 away from following in the footsteps of Brutus, of 
 Cassius, of the great Romans, of me, your teacher and 
 master ! That is all Paolo cares for, and it is enough 
 more than enough ! And he shall pay me for his 
 presumptuous interference, the villain ! " 
 
 Marzio's voice sank into a hissing whisper as he 
 bent over the wax he was twisting and pressing. 
 Gianbattista glanced at his pale face, and inwardly 
 wondered at the strange mixture of artistic genius, of 
 bombastic rhetoric and relentless hatred, all combined 
 in the strange man whom destiny had given him for a 
 master. He wondered, too, how he had ever been 
 able to admire the contrasts of virulence and weakness, 
 
112 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. T 
 
 of petty hatred and impossible aspirations which had 
 of late revealed themselves to him in a new light. 
 Have we not most of us assisted at the breaking of the 
 Image of Baal, at the destruction of an imaginary 
 representative of an illogical ideal ? 
 
 " Well, Sor Marzio," said Gianbattista after a pause, 
 " if I were to return to my worship of you and your 
 principles what would you do ? Would you take me 
 back to your friendship and give me your daughter ?" 
 
 Marzio looked up suddenly, and stared at the 
 apprentice in surprise. But the fresh young face gave 
 no sign. Gianbattista had spoken quietly, and was 
 again intent upon his work. 
 
 " If you gave me a proof of your sincerity," answered 
 Marzio, in low tones, " I would do much for you. Yes, 
 I would give you Lucia and the business too, when I 
 am too old to work. But it must be a serious proof 
 no child's play." 
 
 "What do you call a serious proof? A profession 
 of faith ? " 
 
 "Yes sealed with the red wax that is a little 
 thicker than water," answered Marzio grimly, his eyes 
 still fixed on Gianbattista's face. 
 
 " In blood," said the young man calmly. " Whose 
 blood would you like, Sor Marzio ? * 
 
 " Paolo's ! " 
 
 The chiseller spoke in a scarcely audible whisper, 
 
CHAP. V MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 113 
 
 and bent low over his slate, modelling hard at the 
 figure under his fingers. 
 
 " I thought so," muttered Gianbattista between his 
 teeth. Then he raised his voice a little and continued : 
 " And have you the courage, Sor Marzio, to sit there 
 and bargain with me to kill your brother, bribing me 
 with the offer of your daughter's hand ? Why do you 
 not kill him yourself, since you talk of such things ? " 
 
 " Nonsense, my dear Tista I was only jesting," 
 said the other nervously. " It is just like your folly 
 to take me in earnest." The anger had died out of 
 Marzio's voice and he spoke almost persuasively. 
 
 " I do not know," answered the young man. " I 
 think you were in earnest for a moment. I would 
 not advise you to talk in that way before any one 
 else. People might interpret your meaning seri 
 ously." 
 
 " After all, you yourself were threatening to cut my 
 throat last night," said Marzio, with a forced laugh. 
 "It is the same thing. My life is as valuable as 
 Paolo's. I only suggested that you should transfer 
 your tender attentions from me to my brother." 
 
 " It is one thing to threaten a man to his face. It 
 is quite another to offer a man a serious inducement 
 to commit murder. Since you have been so very 
 frank with me, Sor Marzio, I will confess that if the 
 choice lay between killing you, or killing Don Paolo, 
 
114 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. V 
 
 under the present circumstances I would not hesitate 
 a moment." 
 
 "And which would you " 
 
 " Neither," replied the young man, with a cool laugh. 
 " Don Paolo is too good to be killed, and you are not 
 good enough. Come and look at the cherub's head I 
 have made," 
 
CHAPTER YI 
 
 LUCIA'S cheerfulness was not genuine, and any one 
 possessing greater penetration than her mother would 
 have understood that she was, in reality, more fright 
 ened than she was willing to show. The girl had a 
 large proportion of common sense, combined with a 
 quicker perception than the stout Signora Pandolfi. 
 She did not think that she knew anything about logic, 
 and she had always shown a certain inconsistency in 
 her affection for Gianbattista, but she had nevertheless 
 a very clear idea of what was reasonable, a quality 
 which is of immense value in difficulties, though it is 
 very often despised in every-day life by people who 
 believe themselves blessed by the inspirations of 
 genius. 
 
 It seems very hard to make people of other nation 
 alities understand that the Italians of the present day 
 are not an imaginative people. It is nevertheless true, 
 and it is only necessary to notice that they produce 
 few, if any, works of imagination. They have no 
 writers of fiction, no poets, few composers of merit 
 
116 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. VI 
 
 and few artists who rank with those of other nations. 
 They possessed the creative faculty once ; they have 
 lost it in our day, and it does not appear that they are 
 likely to regain it. On the other hand, the Italians 
 are remarkable engineers, first -rate mathematicians, 
 clever, if unscrupulous, diplomatists. Though they 
 overrate their power and influence, they have shown a 
 capacity for organisation which is creditable on the 
 whole. If they fail to obtain the position they seek 
 in Europe, their failure will have been due to their 
 inordinate vanity and over-governing, if I may coin 
 the word, rather than to an innate want of intel 
 ligence. 
 
 The qualities and defects of the Italian nation all 
 existed in the Pandolfi family. Marzio possessed more 
 imagination than most of his countrymen, and he had, 
 besides, that extraordinary skill in his manual execu 
 tion of his work, which Italians have often exhibited 
 on a large scale. On the other hand, he was full of 
 bombastic talk about principles which he called great, 
 His views concerning society, government, and the 
 future of his country, were entirely without balance, 
 and betrayed an amazing ignorance of the laws which 
 direct the destinies of mankind. He suffered in a 
 remarkable degree from that mental disease which 
 afflicts Italians the worship of the fetish of words 
 which mean little, and are supposed to mean much, of 
 
CHAP. VI MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 117 
 
 names in history which have been exalted by the 
 rhetoric of demagogues from the obscurity to which 
 they had been wisely consigned by the judgment of 
 scholars. He was alternately weak and despotic, 
 cunning about small things which concerned his own 
 fortunes, and amazingly foolish about the set of ideas 
 which he loosely defined as politics. 
 
 Lucia's nature illustrated another phase of the Italian 
 character, and one which, if it is less remarkable, is 
 much more agreeable. She possessed the character 
 which looks at everything from the point of view of 
 daily life. Without imagination, she regarded only 
 the practical side of existence. Her vanity was confined 
 to a modest wish to make the best of her appearance, 
 while her ambition went no further than the strictest 
 possibility, in the shape of a marriage with Gianbatifsta 
 Bordogni, and a simple little apartment with a terrace 
 and pots of pinks. Had she known how much richer 
 her father was than she suspected him of being, the 
 enlargement of her views for the future would have 
 been marked by a descent, from the fourth story of 
 the house which was to be her imaginary home, to the 
 third story. It could never have entered her head 
 that Gianbattista ought to give up his profession until 
 he was too old to work any longer. In her estima 
 tion, the mere possession of money could not justify 
 a change of social position. She had been accustomed 
 
118 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, vi 
 
 from her childhood to hear her father air his views in 
 regard to the world in general, but his preaching had 
 produced but little impression upon her. When he 
 thought she was listening in profound attention to his 
 discourse, she was usually wishing that he could be 
 made to see the absurdity of his theories. She wished 
 also that he would sacrifice some of his enthusiasm 
 for the sake of a little more quiet in the house, for 
 she saw that his talking distressed her mother. Further 
 than this she cared little what he said, and not at all 
 for what he thought. Her mind was generally occu 
 pied with the one subject which absorbed her thoughts, 
 and which had grown to be by far the most important 
 part of her nature, her love for Gianbattista Bordogni. 
 Upon that point she was inflexible. Her Uncle 
 Paolo might have led her to change her mind in 
 regard to many things, for she was open to persuasion 
 where her common sense was concerned. But in her 
 love for Gianbattista she was fixed and determined. 
 It would have been more easy to turn her father from 
 his ideas than to make Lucia give up the man she 
 loved. When Marzio had suddenly declared that she 
 should marry the lawyer, her first feeling had been one 
 of ungovernable anger which had soon found vent in 
 tears. During the night she had thought the matter 
 over, and had come to the conclusion that it was only 
 an evil jest, invented by Marzio to give her pain. 
 
CHAP. VI MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 119 
 
 But in the morning it seemed to her as though on the 
 far horizon a black cloud of possible trouble were 
 gathering ; she had admitted to herself that her father 
 might be in earnest, and she had felt something like 
 the anticipation of the great struggle of her life. 
 Then she felt that she would die rather than submit. 
 
 She had no theatrical desire to swear a fearful oath 
 with Gianbattista that they should drown themselves 
 at the Ponte Quattro Capi rather than be separated. 
 Her nature was not dramatic, any more than his. 
 The young girl dressed herself quickly, and made up 
 her mind that if any pressure were brought to bear 
 upon her she would not yield, but that, until then, 
 there was no use in making phrases, and it would be 
 better to be as cheerful as possible under the circum 
 stances. But for Lucia's reassuring manner, the 
 Signora Pandolfi would have doubtless succumbed to 
 her feelings and gone to bed. Lucia, however, had no 
 intention of allowing her mother any such weakness, 
 and accordingly alternately comforted her and sug 
 gested means of escape from the position, as though 
 she were herself the mother and Maria Luisa were her 
 child. 
 
 They found Don Paolo in his small lodging, and he 
 bid them enter, that they might all talk the matter 
 over. 
 
 " In the first place," said the priest, " it is wrong. 
 
120 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. Tl 
 
 In the second place it is impossible. Thirdly, Marzio 
 will not attempt to carry out his threat." 
 
 " Dear me ! How simple you make it seem ! " 
 exclaimed the Signora Pandolfi, reviving at his first 
 words, like a tired horse when he sees the top of the 
 hill. 
 
 " But if papa should try and force me to it what 
 then ? " asked Lucia, who was not so easily satisfied. 
 
 " He cannot force you to it, my child the law 
 will not allow him to do so. I told you so last 
 night." 
 
 " But the law is so far off and he is so violent," 
 answered the young girl. 
 
 " Never fear," said Don Paolo, reassuring her. " I 
 will manage it all. There will be a struggle, perhaps ; 
 but I will make him see reason. He had been with 
 his friends last night, and his mind was excited ; he 
 was not himself. He will have thought differently of 
 it this morning." 
 
 " On the contrary," put in the Signora Pandolfi, 
 " he waked me up at daylight and gave me a quantity 
 of money to go and buy Lucia's outfit. And he will 
 come home at midday and ask to see the things I 
 have brought, and so I thought perhaps we had better 
 buy something just to show him half a dozen hand 
 kerchiefs something to make a figure, you under 
 stand ? " 
 
CHAP. Yi MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 121 
 
 Don Paolo smiled, and Lucia looked sympathetically 
 from him to her mother. 
 
 " I am afraid that half a dozen handkerchiefs would 
 have a bad effect," said the priest. " Either he would see 
 that you are not in earnest, and then he would be very 
 angry, or else he would be deceived and would think 
 that you were really buying the outfit. In that 
 case you would have done harm. This thing must 
 not go any further. The idea must be got out of his 
 head as soon as possible." 
 
 " But if I do nothing at all before dinner he will be 
 furious he will cry out that we are all banded to 
 gether against him " 
 
 " So we are," said Don Paolo simply. 
 
 " Oh dear, oh dear ! " moaned the Signora Pandolfi, 
 looking for her handkerchief in the anticipation of 
 fresh tears. 
 
 " Do not cry, mamma. It is of no use," said Lucia. 
 
 "No, it is of no use to cry," assented the priest. 
 " There is nothing to be done but to go and face 
 Marzio, and not leave him until he has changed his 
 mind. You are afraid to meet him at midday. I will 
 go now to the workshop and find him." 
 
 " Oh, you are an angel, Paolo ! " cried Maria Luisa, 
 regaining her composure and replacing her handker 
 chief in her pocket. "Then we need not buy any 
 thing? What a relief!" 
 Vol. 6 f 
 
122 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. VI 
 
 " I told you Uncle Paolo would know what to do/' 
 said Lucia. " He is so good and so courageous. I 
 would not like to face papa this morning. Will you 
 really go, Uncle Paolo ? " The young girl went and 
 took down his cloak and hat from a peg on the wall, 
 and brought them to him. 
 
 " Of course I will go, and at once," he answered. 
 " But I must give you a word of advice." 
 
 " We will do everything you tell us," said the two 
 women together. 
 
 " You must not ask him any questions, nor refer to 
 the matter at all when he comes home." 
 
 " Diana ! I would as soon speak of death ! " ex 
 claimed the Signora Pandolfi. 
 
 " And if he begins to talk about it you must not 
 answer him, nor irritate him in any way." 
 
 " Be easy about that," answered the fat lady. 
 " Never meddle with sleeping dogs I know." 
 
 "If he grows very angry you must refer him to 
 me." 
 
 " Oh, but that is another matter ! I would rather 
 offer pepper to a cat than talk to him of you. You 
 would see how he would curse and swear and call 
 you by bad names." 
 
 " Well, you must not do anything to make him 
 swear, because that would be a sin ; but if he only 
 abuses me, I do not mind. He will do that when I 
 
CHAP. VI MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 123 
 
 talk to him. Perhaps after all, if he mentions the 
 matter, you had better remain silent." 
 
 " Eh ! that will be easy. He talks so much, and 
 he talks so fast, never waiting for an answer. But 
 are you not afraid for yourself, dear Paolo ? " 
 
 " Oh, he will not hurt me I am not afraid of him," 
 answered the priest. " He will talk a little, he will 
 use some big words, and then it will be finished. You 
 see, it is not a great thing, after all. Take courage, 
 Maria Luisa, it will be a matter of half an hour." 
 
 " Heaven grant it may be only that ! " murmured 
 Marzio's wife, turning up her eyes, and rising from 
 her chair. 
 
 Lucia, who, as has been said, had a very keen ap 
 preciation of facts, did not believe that things would 
 go so smoothly. 
 
 " You had better come back with him to our house 
 when it is all over," she said, "just to give us a sign 
 that it is settled, you know, Uncle Paolo." 
 
 Don Paolo himself had his doubts about the issue, 
 although he put such a brave face on it, and in spite 
 of the Signora Pandolfi. That good lady was by nature 
 very sincere, but she always seemed to bring an irrele 
 vant and comic element into the proceedings. 
 
 The result of the interview was that, in half an 
 hour, Don Paolo knocked at the door of the workshop in 
 the Via dei Ealegnami, where Marzio and Gianbattista 
 
124 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. VI 
 
 were at work. The chiseller's voice bade him 
 enter. 
 
 Don Paolo had not found much time to collect his 
 thoughts before he reached the scene of battle, but his 
 opinion of the matter in hand was well formed. He 
 loved his niece, and he had begun to like Gianbattista. 
 He knew the lawyer, Carnesecchi, by reputation, and 
 what he had heard of him did not prejudice him in 
 the man's favour. It would have been the same had 
 Marzio chosen any one else. In the priest's estima 
 tion, Gianbattista had a right to expect the fulfilment 
 of the many promises which had been made to him. 
 To break those promises for no ostensible reason, just 
 as Gianbattista seemed to be growing up to be a 
 sensible man, was an act of injustice which Don Paolo 
 would not permit if he could help it. Gianbattista 
 was not, perhaps, a model man, but, by contrast with 
 Marzio, he seemed almost saintly. He had a good 
 disposition and no vices ; married to Lucia and devoted 
 to his art, much might be expected of him. On the 
 other hand, Gasparo Carnesecchi represented the devil 
 in person. He was known to be an advanced free 
 thinker, a radical, and, perhaps, worse than a radical 
 a socialist. He was certainly not very rich, and 
 Lucia's dowry would be an object to him ; he would 
 doubtless spend the last copper of the money in at 
 tempting to be elected to the Chambers. If he sue- 
 
CHAP. VI MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 125 
 
 ceeded, lie would represent another unit in that ill- 
 guided minority which has for its sole end the sub 
 version of the existing state of things. He would 
 probably succeed in getting back the money he had 
 spent, and more also, by illicit means. If he failed, 
 the money would be lost, and he would go from bad 
 to worse, intriguing and mixing himself up with the 
 despicable radical press, in the hope of getting a hear 
 ing and a place. 
 
 There is a scale in the meaning of the word socialist: 
 In France it means about the same thing as a com 
 munist, when one uses plain language. When one 
 uses the language of Monsieur Drumont, it means a 
 Jew. In England a socialist is equal to a French 
 conservative republican. In America it means a thief. 
 In Germany it means an ingenious individual of 
 restricted financial resources, who generally fails to 
 blow up some important personage with wet dynamite. 
 In Italy a socialist is an anarchist pure and simple, 
 who wishes to destroy everything existing for the sake 
 of dividing a wealth which does not exist at all. It 
 also means a young man who orders a glass of water 
 and a toothpick at a caft, and is able to talk politics 
 for a considerable time on this slender nourishment. 
 Signor Succi and Signer Merlatti have discovered 
 nothing new. Their miracles of fasting may be ob 
 served by the curious at any time in a Roman cafi. 
 
126 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. VI 
 
 Don Paolo regarded the mere idea of an alliance 
 with Gasparo Carnesecchi as an outrage upon common 
 sense, and when he entered Marzio's workshop he was 
 determined to say so. Marzio looked up with an air 
 of inquiry, and Gianbattista foresaw what was coming. 
 He nodded to the priest, and brought forward the old 
 straw chair from the corner ; then he returned to his 
 work in silence. 
 
 " You will have guessed my errand," Don Paolo 
 began, by way of introducing his subject. 
 
 " No," answered Marzio doggedly. " Something about 
 the crucifix, I suppose." 
 
 " Not at all," returned the priest, folding his hands 
 over the handle of his umbrella. " A much more 
 delicate matter. You suggested last night an im 
 probable scheme for marrying Lucia." 
 
 " You had better say that I told you plainly what 
 I mean to do. If you have come to talk about that, 
 you had better talk to the workmen outside. They 
 may answer you. I will not ! " 
 
 Don Paolo was not to be so easily put off. He 
 waited a moment as though to give Marzio time to 
 change his mind, and then proceeded. 
 
 " There are three reasons why this marriage will 
 not take place," he said. " In the first place, it is 
 wrong that is my point of view. In the second 
 place, it is impossible and that is the view the law 
 
OHAP. VI MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 12*7 
 
 takes of it. Thirdly, it will not take place because 
 you will not attempt to push it. What do you say 
 of my reasons, Marzio ? " 
 
 " They are worthy of you," answered the artist. 
 " In the first place, I do not care a fig for what you 
 think is wrong, or right either. Secondly, I will take 
 the law into my own hands. Thirdly, I will bring it 
 about and finish it in a fortnight ; and fourthly, you 
 may go to the devil ! What do you think of my 
 reasons, Paolo ? They are better than yours, and 
 much more likely to prevail." 
 
 " My dear Marzio," returned the priest quietly, " you 
 may say anything you please, I believe, in these days 
 of liberty. But the law will not permit you to act 
 upon your words. If you can persuade your daughter 
 to marry Gasparo Carnesecchi of her own free will, 
 well and good. If you cannot, there is a statute, I 
 am quite sure, which forbids your dragging her up the 
 steps of the Capitol, and making her sign her name by 
 force or violence in the presence of the authorities. 
 You may take my word for it ; and so you had better 
 dismiss the matter from your mind at once, and think 
 no more about it." 
 
 "I remember that you told her so last night/ 
 growled Marzio, growing pale with anger. 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " You you you priest ! " cried the chiseller, un- 
 
128 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. VI 
 
 able in his rage to find an epithet which he judged 
 more degrading. Don Paolo smiled. 
 
 " Yes, I am a priest/' he answered calmly. 
 
 " Yes, you are a priest," yelled Marzio, " and what 
 is to become of paternal authority in a household 
 where such fellows as you are listening at the key 
 holes ? Is a man to have no more rights ? Are we 
 to be ruled by women and creatures in petticoats? 
 Viper ! Poisoning my household, teaching my daughter 
 to disobey me, my wife to despise me, my paid work 
 men to " 
 
 " Silence ! " cried Gianbattista in ringing tones, and 
 with the word he sprang to his feet and clapped his 
 hand on Marzio's mouth. 
 
 The effect was sudden and unexpected. Marzio 
 was utterly taken by surprise. It was incredible to 
 him that any one should dare to forcibly prevent him 
 from indulging in the language he had used with 
 impunity for so many years. He leaned back pale 
 and astonished, and momentarily dumb with amaze 
 ment. Gianbattista stood over him, his young 
 cheeks flushed with anger, and his broad fist 
 clenched. 
 
 " If you dare to talk in that way to Don Paolo, I 
 will kill you with my hands ! " he said, his voice sink 
 ing lower with concentrated determination. " I have 
 had enough of your foul talk. He is a better man 
 
CHAP. VI MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 129 
 
 than you, as I told you last night, aaid I repeat it 
 now take care " 
 
 Marzio made a movement as though he would rise, 
 and at the same instant Gianbattista seized the long, 
 fine-pointed punch, which served for the eyes of the 
 cherubs a dangerous weapon in a determined hand. 
 
 Don Paolo had risen from his chair, and was trying 
 to push himself between the two. But Gianbattista 
 would not let him. 
 
 " For heaven's sake," cried the priest in great dis 
 tress, " no violence, Tista I will call the men " 
 
 " Never fear," answered the apprentice quietly ; " the 
 man is a coward." 
 
 " To me you dare to say that to me ! " exclaimed 
 Marzio, drawing back at the same time. 
 
 " Yes it is quite true. But do not suppose that I 
 think any the worse of you on that account, Sor Marzio." 
 
 With this taunt, delivered in a voice that expressed 
 the most profound contempt, Gianbattista went back 
 to his seat and took up his hammer as though nothing 
 had happened. Don Paolo drew a long breath of 
 relief. As for Marzio, his teeth chattered with rage. 
 His weakness had been betrayed at last, and by Gian 
 battista. All his life he had succeeded in concealing 
 the physical fear which his words belied. He had 
 cultivated the habit of offering to face danger, speak 
 ing of it in a quiet way, as he had observed that brava 
 
130 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. Tl 
 
 men did. He bad found it good policy to tell people 
 that he was not afraid of them, and his bearing had 
 hitherto saved him from physical violence. Now he 
 felt as though all his nerves had been drawn out of 
 his body. He had been terrified, and he knew that 
 he had shown it. Gianbattista's words stung in his 
 ears like the sting of wasps. 
 
 " You shall never enter this room again," he hissed 
 out between his teeth. The young man shrugged his 
 shoulders as though he did not care. Don Paolo sat 
 down again and grasped his umbrella. 
 
 " Gianbattista," said the priest, " I am grateful to 
 you for your friendship, my boy. But it is very 
 wrong to be violent " 
 
 " It is one of the seven deadly sins ! " cried Marzio, 
 finding his voice at last, and by a strange accident 
 venting his feelings in a sentence which might have 
 been spoken by a confessor to a penitent. 
 
 Gianbattista could not help laughing, but he shook 
 his head as though to explain that it was not his fault 
 if he was violent with such a man. 
 
 "It is very wrong to threaten people, Tista," 
 repeated Don Paolo; "and besides it does not hurt 
 me, what Marzio says. Let us all be calm. Marzio, 
 let us discuss this matter reasonably. Tista, do not 
 be angry at anything that is said. There is nothing 
 to be done but to look at the question quietly." 
 
OHAP. VI MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX 131 
 
 " It is very well for you to talk like that," grumbled 
 Marzio, pretending to busy himself over his model in 
 order to cover his agitation. 
 
 " It is of no use to talk in any other way," answered 
 the priest. " I return to the subject. I only want to 
 convince you that you will find it impossible to carry 
 out your determination by force. You have only to 
 ask the very man you have hit upon, the Awocato 
 Carnesecchi, and he will tell you the same thing. He 
 knows the law better than you or L He will refuse 
 to be a party to such an attempt. Ask him, if you 
 do not believe me." 
 
 " Yes ; a pretty position you want to put me in, by 
 the body of a dog ! To ask a man to marry my 
 daughter by force ! A fine opinion he would conceive 
 of my domestic authority ! Perhaps you will take 
 upon yourself to go and tell him won't you, dear 
 Paolo ? It would save me the trouble." 
 
 " I think that is your affair," answered Don Paolo, 
 taking him in earnest. " Nevertheless, if you wish 
 
 " Oh, this is too much ! " cried Marzio, his anger 
 rising again. " It is not enough that you thwart me 
 at every turn, but you come here to mock me, to make 
 a figure of me ! Take care, Paolo, take care ! You 
 may go too far." 
 
 " I would not advise you to go too far, Sor Marzio," 
 
132 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. Yl 
 
 put in Gianbattista, turning half round on his 
 stool. 
 
 " Cannot I speak without being interrupted ? Go 
 on with your work, Tista, and let us talk this matter 
 out. I tell you, Paolo, that I do not want your 
 advice, and that I have had far too much of your 
 interference. I will inquire into this matter, so far 
 as it concerns the law, and I will show you that I am 
 right, in spite of all your surmises and prophecies. A 
 man is master in his own house and must remain so, 
 whatever laws are made. There is no law which can 
 force a man to submit to the dictation of his brother 
 even if his brother is a priest." 
 
 Marzio spoke more calmly than he had done 
 hitherto, in spite of the sneer in the last sentence. 
 He had broken down, and he felt that Paolo and 
 Gianbattista were too much for him. He desired no 
 repetition of the scene which had passed, and he 
 thought the best thing to be done was to temporise 
 for a while. 
 
 " I am glad you are willing to look into the matter," 
 answered Don Paolo. " I am quite sure you will 
 soon be convinced." 
 
 Marzio was silent, and it was evident that the in 
 terview was at an end. Don Paolo was tolerably well 
 satisfied, for he had gained at least one point in 
 forcing his brother to examine the question. He 
 
CHAP. VI MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 133 
 
 remained a moment in his seat, reviewing the situa 
 tion, and asking himself whether there was anything 
 more to be said. He wished indeed that he could 
 produce some deeper impression on the artist. It was 
 not enough, from the moral point of view, that Marzio 
 should be made to see the impossibility of his scheme, 
 although it was as much as could be expected, The 
 good man wished with all his heart that Marzio could 
 be softened a little, that he might be made to consider 
 his daughter's feelings, to betray some sign of an affec 
 tion which seemed wholly dead, to show some more 
 human side of his character. But the situation at 
 present forbade Don Paolo from making any further 
 effort. The presence of Grianbattista, who had sud 
 denly constituted himself the priest's defender, was a 
 constraint. Alone with his brother, Marzio might 
 possibly have exhibited some sensibility, but while the 
 young man who had violently silenced him a few 
 moments earlier was looking on, the chiseller would 
 continue to be angry, and would not forget the humilia 
 tion he had suffered. There was nothing more to be 
 done at present, and Don Paolo prepared to take his 
 departure, gathering his cloak around him, and smooth 
 ing the felt of his three-cornered hat while he held his 
 green umbrella under his arm. 
 
 " Are you going already, Don Paolo ? " asked Gian- 
 battista, rising to open the door. 
 
134 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. VI 
 
 "Yes, I must go. Good-bye, Marzio. Bear me no 
 ill-will for pressing you to be cautious. Good-bye, 
 Tista." He pressed the young man's hand warmly, 
 as though to thank him for his courageous defence, 
 and then left the workshop. . Marzio paid no attention 
 to his departure. When the door was closed, and as 
 Gianbattista was returning to his bench, the artist 
 dropped his modelling tools and faced his apprentice. 
 
 " You may go too," he said in a low tone, as though 
 he were choking. " I mean you may go for good. I 
 do not need you any longer." 
 
 He felt in his pocket for his purse, opened it, and 
 took out some small notes. 
 
 "I give you an hour to take your things from my 
 house," he continued. " There are your wages you 
 shall not tell the priest that I cheated you." 
 
 Gianbattista stood still in the middle of the room 
 while Marzio held out the money to him. A hot 
 flush rose to his young forehead, and he seemed on 
 the point of speaking, but the words did not pass his 
 lips. With a quick step he came forward, took the 
 notes from Marzio's hand, and crumpling them in his 
 fingers, threw them in his face with all his might. 
 Then he turned on his heel, spat on the floor of the 
 room, and went out before Marzio could find words to 
 resent the fresh insult. 
 
 The door fell back on the latch and Marzio waa 
 
CHAP, vi MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 135 
 
 alone. He was very pale, and for a moment his 
 features worked angrily. Then a cruel smile passed 
 over his face. He stooped down, picked up the 
 crumpled notes, counted them, and replaced them in 
 his purse. The economical instinct never forsook him, 
 and he did the thing mechanically. Glancing at the 
 bench his eyes fell on the pointed punch which Gian- 
 battista had taken up in his anger. He felt it care 
 fully, handled it, looked at it, smiled again and put it 
 into his pocket. 
 
 " It is not a bad one," he muttered. " How many 
 cherubs' eyes I have made with that thing ! " 
 
 He turned to the slate and examined the rough 
 model he had made in wax, flat still, and only indi 
 cated by vigorous touches, the red material smeared on 
 the black surface all around it by his fingers. There 
 was force in the figure, even in its first state, and 
 there was a strange pathos in the bent head, the only 
 part as yet in high relief. But Marzio looked at it 
 angrily. He turned it to the light, closed his eyes a 
 moment, looked at it again, and then, with an inco 
 herent oath, his long, discoloured hand descended on 
 the model, and, with a heavy pressure and one strong 
 push, flattened out what he had done, and smeared it 
 into a shapeless mass upon the dark stone. 
 
 " I shall never do it," he said in a low voice. " They 
 have destroyed my idea." 
 
136 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, vr 
 
 For some minutes he rested his head in his hand in 
 deep thought. At last he rose and went to a corner 
 of the workshop in which stood a heavily ironed box. 
 Marzio rumbled in his pocket till he found a key, 
 bright from always being carried about with him, and 
 contrasting oddly with the rusty lock into which he 
 thrust it. It turned with difficulty in his nervous 
 fingers, and he raised the heavy lid. The coffer was 
 full of packages wrapped in brown paper. He removed 
 one after another till he came to a wooden case which 
 filled the whole length and breadth of the safe. He 
 lifted it out carefully and laid it on the end of the 
 bench. The cover was fastened down by screws, and 
 he undid them one by one until it moved and came 
 off in his hands. The contents were wrapped carefully 
 in a fine towel, which had once been white, but which 
 had long grown yellow with age. Marzio unfolded 
 the covering with a delicate touch as though he feared 
 to hurt what was within. He took out a large silver 
 crucifix, raising it carefully, and taking care not to 
 touch the figure. He stood it upon the bench before 
 him, and sat down to examine it. 
 
 It was a work of rare beauty, which he had made 
 more than ten years before. With the strange reticent 
 instinct which artists sometimes feel about their finest 
 works, he had finished it in secret, working at night 
 alone, and when it was done he had put it away. It 
 
OHAP. vi MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 137 
 
 was his greatest feat, he had said to himself, and, as 
 from time to time he took it out and looked at it, he 
 gradually grew less and less inclined to show it to any 
 one, resolving to leave it in its case, until it should be 
 found after his death. It had seemed priceless to him, 
 and he would not sell it. With a fantastic eccentricity 
 of reasoning he regarded it as a sacred thing, to part 
 with which would be a desecration. So he kept it. 
 Then, taking it out again, it had seemed less good to 
 him, as his mind became occupied with other things, 
 and he had fancied he should do better yet. At last 
 he screwed it up in a wooden case and put it at the 
 bottom of his strong box, resolving never to look at it 
 again. Many years had passed since he had laid eyes 
 upon it. 
 
 The idea which had come to him when Paolo had 
 communicated the order to him on the previous even 
 ing, had seemed absolutely new. It had appeared to 
 him as a glorification of the work he had executed in 
 secret so long ago. Time, and the habit of dissatisfac 
 tion had effaced from his mind the precise image of the 
 work of the past, and the emotions of the present had 
 seemed something new to him. He had drawn and 
 modelled during many hours, and yet he was utterly 
 disappointed with the new result. He felt the innate 
 consciousness of having done it before, and of having 
 done it better. 
 
138 MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. Yi 
 
 And now the wonderful masterpiece of his earlier 
 years stood before him the tall and massive ebony 
 cross, bearing the marvellous figure of the dead Saviour. 
 A ray of sunlight fell through the grated window upon 
 the dying head, illuminating the points of the thorns 
 in the crown, the falling locks of hair, the tortured 
 hands, and casting a shadow of death beneath the half- 
 closed eyes. 
 
 For several minutes Marzio sat motionless on his 
 stool, realising the whole strength and beauty of what 
 he had done ten years before. Then he wanted to get 
 a better view of it. It was not high enough above 
 him, for it was meant to stand upon an altar. He 
 could not see the face. He looked about for something 
 upon which to make it stand, but nothing was near. 
 He pushed away his stool, and turning the cross a 
 little, so that the sunlight should strike it at a better 
 angle, he kneeled down on the floor, his hands resting 
 on the edge of the bench, and he looked up at the 
 image of the dead Christ. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 WHEN Don Paolo left the workshop, he immedi 
 ately crossed over and entered the street door of 
 Marzio's house, intending to tell Maria Luisa and 
 Lucia the result of the interview. He had not got to 
 the top of the first flight of stairs when he heard 
 G-ianbattista's step behind him, and turning he saw the 
 young man's angry face. 
 
 " What is the matter, Tista ? " asked the priest, stop 
 ping on the steps and laying his hand on the iron 
 railing. 
 
 "I am discharged, turned out, insulted by that ani 
 mal ! " answered the apprentice hotly. " He is like a 
 piece of wood ! You might as well talk to a wall 1 
 You had only just closed the door when he pulled out 
 his purse, counted my wages, and told me to take my 
 things from his house in an hour. I threw the money 
 in his face the beast !" 
 
 "Hush, Tista," said Don Paolo. "Do not be angrj 
 we will arrange it all before night. He cannot do 
 without you, and after all it is my fault. Calm 
 
140 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, vn 
 
 yourself, Tista, my boy we will soon set that 
 straight." 
 
 " Yes in an hour I will have left the house. Then 
 it will be straight enough, as you call it. Oh ! I would 
 like to strangle him ! Dear Don Paolo, nobody but 
 you can arrange this affair " 
 
 " Hush, hush, Tista. I cannot hear you talk in this 
 way. Come, we will go back to Marzio. He will 
 listen to reason " 
 
 " Do you know what he said to me not a quarter of 
 an hour before you came in ? " asked Gianbattista 
 quickly, laying his hand on the priest's arm. " He 
 said I might have Lucia and welcome if I would kill 
 you ! Do you understand ? I wish you could have 
 seen the look in his eyes ! " 
 
 "No, no, my boy he was angry. He did not 
 mean it." 
 
 " Mean it ! Bacchus ! He would kill you himself 
 if he were not such a dastardly coward ! " 
 
 Don Paolo shook his head with an incredulous 
 smile, and looked kindly into the young man's eyes. 
 
 " You have all lost your heads over this unfortunate 
 affair, Tista. You are all talking of killing each other 
 and yourselves as though it were as simple as ' good- 
 morning.' It is very wrong to talk of such things, 
 and besides, you know, it is not really worth 
 while " 
 
CHAP, vii MARZIO'S CEUCIFIX 141 
 
 " It seems simple enough to me," answered the 
 youug man, frowning and clenching his hand. 
 
 " Come with me," urged the other, making as though 
 he would descend the steps. " Come back to the work 
 shop, and we will talk it all over." 
 
 " Wait a minute, Don Paolo. There is one thing 
 one favour I want to ask of you." Gianbattista 
 lowered his voice. " You can do it for us I am sure 
 you will. I will call Lucia, and we will go with you " 
 
 " Where ? " asked the priest, not understanding the 
 look of the young man. 
 
 " To church, of course. You can marry us in ten 
 minutes, and the thing will be all over. Then we can 
 laugh at Sor Marzio." 
 
 Don Paolo smiled. 
 
 " My dear boy," he answered, " those things are not 
 done in a moment like roasting chestnuts. There are 
 banns to be published. There is a civil marriage at 
 the Capitol " 
 
 " I should be quite satisfied with your benediction 
 a Pater Noster, an Or emus properly said eh ? Would 
 it not be all right ? " 
 
 " Eeally, Tista ! " exclaimed the good man, holding 
 up his hands in horror. "I had no idea that your 
 religious education had been so neglected ! My dear 
 child, marriage is a very solemn thing." 
 
 " By Diana ! I should think so ! But that need not 
 
142 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, vn 
 
 make it such a long ceremony. A man dies in a 
 moment paff! the light is out ! you are dead. It 
 is very solemn. The same thing for marriage. The 
 priest looks at you, says Or emus poff! You are 
 married, and it cannot be undone ! I know it is very 
 serious, but it is only the affair of a moment." 
 
 Don Paolo did not know whether to laugh or to 
 look grave at this exposition of Gianbattista's views 
 of death and matrimony. He put it down to the boy's 
 excitement. 
 
 " There is another reason, Tista. The law does not 
 allow a girl of seventeen to be married without her 
 father's consent." 
 
 " The law again ! " exclaimed Gianbattista in disgust. 
 "I thought the law protected Lucia from her father. 
 You said so last night, and you repeated it this morning." 
 
 "Certainly, my boy. But the law also protects 
 parents against any rashness their children may medi 
 tate. It would be no marriage if Lucia had not 
 Marzio's consent." 
 
 "I wish there were no laws," grumbled the young 
 man. "How do you come to know so much about 
 marriage, Don Paolo ? " 
 
 " It is my profession. Come along ; we will talk to 
 Marzio." 
 
 " What can we say to him ? You do not suppose I 
 will go and beg to be taken back ? " 
 
CHAP. VII MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 143 
 
 "You must be forgiving " 
 
 " I believe in forgiveness when the other side 
 begins/' said Gianbattista. 
 
 " Perhaps Marzio will forgive too," argued the priest 
 
 "He has nothing to forgive," answered the young 
 man. The reasoning seemed to him beyond refutation. 
 
 " But if he says he has no objection, if he begs you 
 to come back, I think you might make some advance 
 on your side, Tista. Besides, you were very rough with 
 him this morning." 
 
 " He turned me out like a dog after all these 
 years," said Gianbattista. " I will go back and work 
 for him on one condition. He must give me Lucia at 
 once." 
 
 " I am afraid that as a basis of negotiations that 
 plan leaves much to be desired," replied Don Paolo, in a 
 meditative tone. " Of course, we are all determined that 
 you shall marry her in the end ; but unless Providence 
 is pleased to change Marzio's state of mind, you may 
 have to wait until she is of age. He will never con 
 sent at present." 
 
 " In that case I had better go and take my things 
 away from his house," returned the apprentice. " And 
 say good-bye to Lucia for a day or two," he added in 
 a low voice. 
 
 " Of course, if you will not agree to be conciliatory 
 it is of no use for you to come with me," said Don 
 
144 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX OHAP. VII 
 
 Paolo rather sadly. " Dear ine ! Here comes Maria 
 Luisa with Suntarella ! " 
 
 " Ah, dear Paolo, dear Paolo ! " cried the stout lady, 
 puffing up the stairs with the old woman close behind 
 her. "How good you are! And what did he say? 
 We asked if you had gone at the workshop, and they 
 said you had, so Lucia went in to ask her father 
 whether he would have the chickens boiled or roasted. 
 Well, well, tell me all about it. These stairs ! Sun 
 tarella, run up and open the door while I get my 
 breath ! Dear Paolo, you are an angel of goodness ! " 
 
 " Softly, Maria Luisa," answered the priest. " There 
 is good and bad. He has admitted that he will have 
 to consider the matter because he cannot make Lucia 
 marry without her consent. But on the other hand 
 
 poor Tista " he looked at the young man and 
 
 hesitated. 
 
 " He has turned me out," said Gianbattista. " He 
 has given me an hour to leave his house. I believe a 
 good part of the hour has passed already " 
 
 " And Tista says he will not go back at any price," 
 put in Don Paolo. The Signora Pandolfi gasped for 
 breath. 
 
 " Oh ! oh ! I shall faint ! " she sobbed, pressing the 
 handle of her parasol against her breast with both 
 hands. " Oh, what shall we do ? We are lost 1 
 Paolo, your arm I shall die ! " 
 
CHAP. VII MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 145 
 
 " Courage, courage, Maria Luisa," said the priest 
 kindly. " We will find a remedy. For the present 
 Tista can come to my house. There is the little room 
 where the man-servant sleeps, who is gone to see his 
 sick wife in the country. The Cardinal will not 
 mind." 
 
 " But you are not going like this ? " cried the stout 
 lady, grasping Gianbattista's arm and looking into his 
 face with an expression of forlorn bewilderment. " You 
 cannot go to-day it is impossible, Tista your shirts 
 are not even ironed ! Oh dear ! oh dear ! And I had 
 anticipated a feast because I was sure that Marzio 
 would see reason before mid-day, and there are chickens 
 for dinner with rice, Tista, just as you like them 
 oh, you cannot go, Tista, I cannot let you go I " 
 
 " Courage, Maria Luisa," exhorted Don Paolo. " It 
 is not a question of chickens." 
 
 " Dear Sora Luisa, you are too good," said Gianbat- 
 tista. " Let us go upstairs first, to begin with you 
 will catch cold here on the steps. Come, come, 
 courage, Sora Luisa 1 " 
 
 He took the good woman's arm and led her up 
 wards. But Don Paolo stayed behind. He believed 
 it to be his duty to return to the workshop, and to 
 try and undo the harm Gianbattista had done himself 
 by the part he had played in the proceedings of the 
 
 morning. The Signora "Pandolfi suffered herself to be 
 Tol. 6 a 
 
146 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, vii 
 
 led upstairs, panting and sobbing as she went, and 
 protesting still that Gianbattista could not possibly be 
 allowed to leave the house. 
 
 When Don Paolo had parted from the two women an 
 hour earlier, they had not gone home as he had supposed, 
 but, chancing to meet old Assunta near the house, the 
 three had gone together to make certain necessary 
 purchases. On their return they had inquired for 
 Paolo at the workshop, as Maria Luisa had explained, 
 and Lucia had entered in the confident expectation of 
 finding that the position of things had mended con 
 siderably since the early morning. Moreover, since 
 the announcement of the previous evening, the young 
 girl had not seen her father alone. She wanted to 
 talk to him on her own account, in order to sound the 
 depth of his determination. She was not afraid of 
 him. The fact that for a long time he had regarded 
 favourably the project of her marriage with Gianbat 
 tista had given her a confidence which was not to be 
 destroyed in a moment, even by Marzio's strange 
 conduct. She passed through the outer rooms, nodding 
 to the workmen, who touched their caps to the master's 
 daughter. A little passage separated the large work 
 shop from the inner studio. The door at the end 
 was not quite closed. Lucia went up to it, and looked 
 through the opening to see whether Gianbattista were 
 with her father. The sight she saw was so surprising 
 
CHAP. Til MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 147 
 
 that she leaned against the door-post for support. 
 She could not believe her eyes. 
 
 There was her father in his woollen blouse, kneeling, 
 on the brick floor of the room, before a crucifix, his 
 back turned towards her, his hands raised, and, as it 
 seemed from the position of the arms, folded in prayer. 
 The sunlight fell upon the silver figure, and upon the 
 dark tangled hair of the artist who remained motionless 
 as though absorbed in devotion, while his daughter 
 watched him through the half-open door. The scene 
 was one which would have struck any one; the 
 impression it made on Lucia was altogether extra 
 ordinary. She easily fancied that Marzio, after his 
 interview with Don Paolo, had felt a great and sudden 
 revulsion of sentiment. She knew that the priest had 
 not left the studio many minutes before, and she 
 saw her father apparently praying before a crucifix. 
 A wonderful conversion had been effected, and the 
 result was there manifest to the girl's eyes. 
 
 She held her breath and remained at the door, 
 determined not to move until Marzio should have risen 
 from his knees. To interrupt him at such a moment 
 would have been almost a sacrilege ; it might produce 
 the most fatal results ; it would be an intrusion upon 
 the privacy of a repentant man. She stood watching 
 and waiting to see what would happen. 
 
 Presently Marzio moved. Lucia thought he was 
 
148 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. TH 
 
 going to rise from his knees, but she was surprised to 
 see that he only changed the position of the crucifix 
 with one hand. He approached his head so near the 
 lower part of it that Lucia fancied he was in the act 
 of pressing his lips upon the crossed feet of the silver 
 Christ. Then he drew back a little, turned his head 
 to one side, and touched the figure with his right hand. 
 It was evident, now, that he was no longer praying, 
 but that something about the workmanship had 
 attracted his attention. 
 
 How natural, the girl said to herself, that this man, 
 even in euch a supreme moment, should not forget his 
 art that, even in prayer, his eyes should mechanically 
 detect an error of the chisel, a flaw in the metal, or 
 some such detail familiar to his daily life. She did 
 not think the worse of him for it. He was an artist ! 
 The habit of his whole existence could not cease to 
 influence him he could as soon have ceased to 
 breathe. Lucia watched him and felt something like 
 love for her father. Her sympathy was with him in 
 both actions ; in his silent prayer, in the inner privacy 
 of his working-room, as well as in the inherent love of 
 his art, from which he could not escape even when he 
 was doing something contrary to the whole tenor of 
 his life. Lucia thought how Don Paolo's face would 
 light up when she should tell him of what she had 
 seen. Then she wondered, with a delicate sense of 
 
OHAP. vir MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 149 
 
 respect for her father's secret feelings, whether she 
 would have the right to tell any one what she had 
 accidentally seen through the half-closed door of the 
 studio. 
 
 Marzio moved again, and this time he rose to his 
 feet and remained standing, so that the crucifix was 
 completely hidden from her view. She knocked at 
 the door. Her father turned suddenly round, and 
 faced the entrance, still hiding the crucifix by his figure. 
 
 " Who is it ?" he asked in a tone that sounded as 
 though he were startled. 
 
 " Lucia," answered the girl timidly. " May I come 
 in, papa ? " 
 
 "Wait a minute," he answered. She drew back, 
 and, still watching him, saw that he laid the cross 
 down upon the table, and covered it with a towel the 
 same one in which it had been wrapped. 
 
 " Come in," he called out. " What is the matter ?" 
 
 " I only came for a moment, papa," answered Lucia, 
 entering the room and glancing, about her as she came 
 forward. " Mamma sent me in to ask you about the 
 chickens there are chickens for dinner she wanted 
 to know whether you would like them roasted or 
 boiled with rice." 
 
 " Boasted," replied Marzio, taking up a chisel and 
 pretending to be busy. " It is Gianbattista who likes 
 them boiled." 
 
150 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, vn 
 
 " Thank you, I will go home and tell her. Papa 
 " the girl hesitated. 
 
 "What is the matter?" 
 
 " Papa, you are not angry any more as you were 
 last night?" 
 
 " Angry ? No. What makes you ask such a 
 question ? I was not angry last night, and I am not 
 angry now. Who put the idea into your head ?" 
 
 " I am so glad," answered Lucia. " Not with me, 
 not with Tista ? I am so glad ! Where is Tista, 
 papa ? " 
 
 " I have not the slightest idea. You will probably 
 not see Tista any more, nor Gianbattista, nor his 
 excellency the Signorino Bordogni." 
 
 Lucia turned suddenly pale, and rested her hand 
 upon the old straw chair on which Don Paolo had 
 sat during his visit. 
 
 " What is this ? What do you tell me ? Not see 
 Tista ?" she asked quickly. 
 
 " Gianbattista had the bad taste to attack me this 
 morning here in my own studio," said Marzio, 
 turning round and facing his daughter. " He put his 
 hands upon my face, do you understand ? He would 
 have stabbed me with a chisel if Paolo had not 
 interfered. Do you understand that ? Out of defer 
 ence for your affections I did not kill him, as I might 
 have done. I dismissed him from my service, and gave 
 
CHAP, vii MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 151 
 
 him an hour to take his effects out of my house. Is 
 that clear ? I offered him his money. He threw it 
 in my face and spat at me as he went out. Is that 
 enough ? If I find him at home when I come to 
 dinner I will have him turned out by the police. You 
 see, you are not likely to set eyes on him for a day or 
 two. You may go home and tell your mother the 
 news, if she has not heard it already. It will be sauce 
 for her chickens." 
 
 Lucia leaned upon the chair during this speech, her 
 black eyes growing wider and wider, and her face 
 turning whiter at every word. To her it seemed, in 
 this first moment, like a hopeless separation from the 
 man she loved. With a sudden movement she sprang 
 forward, and fell on her knees at Marzio's feet. 
 
 "Oh, my father, I beseech you, in the name of 
 heaven," she cried wildly. 
 
 " It is not of the slightest use," answered Marzio, 
 drawing back. Lucia knelt for one moment before 
 him, with upturned face, an expression of imploring 
 despair on her features. Then she sank down in a 
 heap upon the floor against the three-legged stool, 
 which tottered, lost its balance under her weight, and 
 fell over upon the bricks with a loud crash. The poor 
 girl had fainted away. 
 
 Marzio was startled by the sight and the sound, and 
 then, seeing what had happened, he was very much 
 
152 MARZIO 'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. VII 
 
 frightened He knelt down beside his daughter's 
 prostrate body and bent over her face. He raised 
 her up in his long, nervous arms, and lifted her to 
 the old chair till she sat upon it, and he supported 
 her head and body, kneeling on the floor beside her. 
 A sharp pain shot through his heart, the faint indica 
 tion of a love not wholly extinguished. 
 
 " Lucia, dear Lucia !" he said, in a voice so tender 
 that it sounded strangely "in his own ears. But the 
 girl gave no sign. Her head would have fallen for 
 ward if he had not supported it with his hands. 
 
 " My daughter ! Little Lucia ! You are not dead 
 tell me you are not dead !" he cried. In his fright 
 and sudden affection he pressed his lips to her face, 
 kissing her again and again. " I did not mean to hurt 
 you, darling child," he repeated, as though she could 
 hear him speak. 
 
 At last her eyes opened. A shiver ran through her 
 body and she raised her head. She was very pale as 
 she leaned back in the chair. Marzio took her hands 
 and rubbed them between his dark fingers, still looking 
 into her eyes. 
 
 " Ah ! " she gasped, " I thought I was dead." Then, 
 as Marzio seemed about to speak, she added faintly : 
 " Don't say it again !" 
 
 " Lucia dear Lucia ! I knew you were not dead. 
 I knew you would come back to me," he said, still in 
 
CHAP, vii MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 153 
 
 very tender tones. "Forgive me, child I did not 
 mean to hurt you." 
 
 "No? Oh, papa! Then why did you say it?" 
 she cried, suddenly bursting into tears and weeping 
 upon his shoulder. " Tell me it is not true tell me 
 so!" she sobbed. 
 
 Marzio was almost as much disconcerted by Lucia's 
 return to consciousness as he had been by her fainting 
 away. His nature had unbent, momentarily, under 
 the influence of his strong fear for his daughter's life. 
 Now that she had recovered so quickly, he remembered 
 Gianbattista's violence and scornful words, and he 
 seemed to feel the young man's strong hand upon 
 his mouth, stifling his speech. He hesitated, rose to 
 his feet, and began to pace the floor. Lucia watched 
 him with intense anxiety. There was a conflict in his 
 mind between the resentment which was not half an 
 hour old, and the love for his child, which had been so 
 quickly roused during the last five minutes. 
 
 " Well Lucia, my dear I do not know- " he 
 
 stopped short in his walk and looked at her. 
 She leaned forward as though to catch his 
 words. 
 
 " Do you think you could not that you would be 
 so very unhappy, I mean, if he lived out of the house 
 I mean to say, if he had lodgings, somewhere, and 
 came back to work ?" 
 
154 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. VII 
 
 " Oh, papa I should faint away again and I should 
 die. I am quite sure of it." 
 
 Marzio looked anxiously at her, as though he ex 
 pected to see her fall to the ground a second time. 
 It went against the grain of his nature to take Gian- 
 battista back, although he had discharged him hastily 
 in the anger of the moment. He turned away and 
 glanced at the bench. There were the young man's 
 tools, the hammer as he had left it, the piece of work 
 on the leathern pad. The old impulse of foresight for 
 the future acted in Marzio's mind. He could never 
 find such another workman. In the uncertainty of 
 the moment, as often happens, details rose to his re 
 membrance and produced their effect. He recollected 
 the particular way in which Gianbattista used to hold 
 the blunt chisel in first tracing over the drawing on 
 a silver plate. He had never seen any one do it in 
 the same way. 
 
 " Well, Lucia don't faint away. If you can make 
 him stay, I will take him back. But I am afraid you 
 will have hard work. He will make difficulties. He 
 threw the money in my face, Lucia in your father's 
 face, girl ! Think of that. Well, well, do what you 
 like. He is a good workman. Go away, child, 
 and leave me to myself. What will you say to 
 him?" 
 
 Lucia threw her arms round her father's neck and 
 
CHAP. VII MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 155 
 
 kissed him in her sudden joy. Then she stood a 
 moment in thought. 
 
 " Give me his money/' she said, " If he will take 
 the money he will come back." 
 
 Marzio hesitated, slowly drew out his purse, and 
 began to take out the notes. 
 
 " Well if you will have it so," he grumbled. "After 
 all, as he threw it away, I do not see that he has much 
 right to it. There it is. If he says anything about 
 that ten-franc note being torn, tell him he tore it 
 himself. Go home, Lucia, and manage things as you 
 can." 
 
 Lucia put the money in her glove, and busied her 
 self for a moment in brushing the dust from her clothes. 
 Mechanically, her father helped her. 
 
 " You are quite sure you did not hurt yourself ?" he 
 asked. The whole occurrence seemed indistinct, as 
 though some one had told something which he had 
 not understood as we sometimes listen to a person 
 reading aloud, and, missing by inattention the verb of 
 the sentence, remain confused, and ask ourselves what 
 the words mean. , 
 
 " No not at all. It is nothing," answered Lucia, 
 and in a moment she was at the door. 
 
 Opening it to go out, she saw the tall figure of Lon 
 Paolo at the other end of the passage coming rapidly 
 towards her. She raised her finger to her lips and 
 
156 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, vii 
 
 nodded, as though to explain that everything was 
 settled, and that the priest should not speak to Marzio. 
 She, of course, did not know that he had been talking 
 with Gianbattista and her mother, nor that he knew 
 anything about the apprentice's dismissal. She only 
 feared fresh trouble, now that the prospect looked so 
 much clearer, in case Don Paolo should again attack 
 her father upon the subject of the marriage. But her 
 uncle came forward and made as though he would 
 enter the workshop. 
 
 " It is all settled," she said quietly. Don Paolo 
 looked at her in astonishment. At that moment 
 Marzio caught sight of him over the girl's shoulder, in 
 the dusky entrance. 
 
 " Come in, Paolo," he called out. " I have 
 something to show you. Go home, Lucia, my 
 child." 
 
 Not knowing what to expect, and marvelling at the 
 softened tone of his brother's voice, Don Paolo entered 
 the room, waited till Lucia was out of the passage, and 
 then closed the door behind him. He stood in the 
 middle of the floor, grasping his umbrella in his hand 
 and wondering upon what new phase the business was 
 entering. 
 
 " I have something to show you," Marzio repeated, 
 as though to check any question which the priest 
 might be going to put to him. " You asked me for a 
 
CHAP, viz MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 157 
 
 crucifix last night. I have one here. Will it do ? 
 Look at it." 
 
 While speaking, Marzio had uncovered the cross 
 and lifted it up, so that it stood on the bench where 
 he had at first placed it to examine it himself. Then 
 he stepped back and made way for Don Paolo. The 
 priest stood for a moment speechless before the master 
 piece, erect, his hands folded before him. Then, as 
 though recollecting himself, he took off his hat, which 
 he had forgotten to remove on entering the work 
 shop. 
 
 " What a miracle !" ho- exclaimed, in a low voice. 
 
 Marzio stood a little behind him, his hands in the 
 pockets of his woollen blouse. A long silence followed. 
 Don Paolo could not find words to express his admira 
 tion, and his wonder was mixed with a profound feel 
 ing of devotion. The amazing reality of the figure, 
 clothed at the same time in a sort of divine glory, 
 impressed itself upon him as he gazed, and roused that 
 mystical train of religious contemplation which is both 
 familiar and dear to devout persons. He lost himself 
 in his thoughts, and his refined features showed as in 
 a mirror the current of his meditation. The agony of 
 the Saviour of mankind was renewed before him, cul 
 minating in the sacrifice upon the cross. Involuntarily 
 Paolo bent his head and repeated in low tones the 
 words of the Creed, " Qui propter nos homines et propter 
 
158 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. VII 
 
 nostram salutem descendit de coelis" and then, " Cruci- 
 fixus etiam pro nobis" 
 
 Marzio stood looking on, his hands in his pockets. 
 His fingers grasped the long sharp punch he had taken 
 from the table after Gianbattista's departure. His 
 eyes fixed themselves upon the smooth tonsure at the 
 back of Paolo's head, and slowly his right hand issued 
 from his pocket with the sharp instrument firmly 
 clenched in it. He raised it to the level of his head, 
 just above that smooth shaven circle in the dark hair. 
 His eyes dilated and his mouth worked nervously as 
 the pale lips stretched themselves across the yellow teeth. 
 
 Don Paolo moved, and turned to speak to his brother 
 concerning the work of art. Seeing Marzio's attitude, 
 he started with a short cry and stretched out his arm 
 as though to parry a blow. 
 
 " Marzio !" 
 
 The artist had quickly brought his hand to his 
 forehead, and the ghastly affectation of a smile wreathed 
 about his white lips. His voice was thick. 
 
 " I was only shading my eyes from the sun. 
 Don't you see how it dazzles me, reflected from the 
 silver ? What did you imagine, Paolo ? You look 
 frightened." 
 
 "Oh, nothing," answered the priest bravely. "Per 
 haps I am a little nervous to-day." 
 
 " Bacchus ! It looks like it," said Marzio, with an 
 
CHAP, vii MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 159 
 
 attempt to laugh. Then he tossed the tool upon the 
 table among the rest with an impatient gesture. 
 " What do you think of the crucifix?" 
 
 " It is very wonderful," said Paolo, controlling 
 himself by an effort. " When did you make it, 
 Marzio ? You have not had time " 
 
 " I made it years ago," answered the chiseller, turn 
 ing his face away to hide his pallor. " I made it for 
 myself. I never meant to show it, but I believe I 
 cannot do anything better. Will it do for your car 
 dinal ? Look at the work. It is as fine as anything 
 of the kind in the world, though I say it. Yes it is 
 cast. Of course, you do not understand the art, Paolo, 
 but I will explain it all to you in a few minutes " 
 
 Marzio talked very fast, almost incoherently, and 
 he was evidently struggling with an emotion. Paolo, 
 standing back a little from the bench, nodded his head 
 from time to time. 
 
 " It is all very simple," continued the artist, as 
 though he dared not pause for breath. "You see 
 one sometimes makes little figures of real repousst, 
 half and half, done in cement and then soldered to 
 gether so that they look like one piece, but it is 
 impossible to do them well unless you have dies to 
 press the plate into the first shape and the die 
 always makes the same figure, though you can vary 
 the face and twist the arms and legs about. Cheap 
 
160 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, vii 
 
 silver crucifixes and angels and those things are all 
 made in that way, and with care a great deal can be 
 done, of course, to give them an artistic look." 
 
 " Of course," assented Don Paolo, in a low voice. 
 He thought he understood the cause of his brother's 
 eloquence. 
 
 " Yes, of course," continued Marzio, as rapidly as 
 before. " But to make a really good thing like this, 
 IB a different matter. A very different matter. Here 
 you must model your figure in wax, and make moulds 
 of the parts of it, and chisel each part separately, 
 copying the model. And then you must join all the 
 parts together with silver-soldering, and go over the 
 lines carefully. It needs the most delicate handling, 
 for although the casting is very heavy it is not like 
 working on a chalice that is filled with cement and all 
 arranged for you, that can be put in the fire, melted 
 out, softened, cooled, and worked over as often as you 
 please. There is no putting in the fire here not 
 more than once after you have joined the pieces. Do 
 you understand me ? Why do you look at me in that 
 way, Paolo ? You look as though you did not follow me." 
 
 " On the contrary/' said the priest, " I think I un 
 derstand it very well as well as an outsider can 
 understand such a process. No I merely look at 
 the finished work. It is superb, Marzio magnificent! 
 I have never seen anything like it/ 
 
0HAP. VII 
 
 161 
 
 "Well, you may have it to-night/' said Marzio, 
 turning away, and walking about the room. " I will 
 touch it over. I can improve it a little. I have 
 learned something in ten years. I will work all to 
 day, and I will bring it home this evening to show 
 Maria Luisa. Then you may take it away." 
 
 " And the price ? I must be able to tell the 
 Cardinal." 
 
 " Oh, never mind the price. I will be content to 
 take whatever he gives me, since it is going. No 
 price would represent the labour. Indeed, Paolo, if it 
 were any one but you, I would not let it go. Nothing 
 but my affection for you would make me give it to 
 you. It is the gem of my studio. Ah, how I worked 
 at it ten years ago ! " 
 
 " Thank you. I think I understand," answered the 
 priest. " I am very much obliged to you, Marzio, and 
 I assure you it will be appreciated. I must be going. 
 Thank you for showing it to me. I will come and get 
 it to-night." 
 
 " Well, good-bye, Paolo," said Marzio. " Here is 
 your umbrella." 
 
 As Don Paolo turned away to leave the room, the 
 artist looked curiously at the tonsure on his head, and 
 his eyes followed it until Paolo had covered it with his 
 hat. Then he closed the door and went back to the 
 bench. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 LUCIA hastened homewards with the good news she 
 bore. Her young nature was elastic, and, in the 
 sudden happiness of having secured Gianbattista's 
 recall, she quickly recovered from the shock she had 
 received. She did not reflect very much, for she had 
 not the time. It had all happened so quickly that 
 her senses were confused, and she only knew that the 
 man she loved must be in despair, and that the sooner 
 she reached him the sooner she would be able to 
 relieve him from what he must be suffering. Her 
 breath came fast as she reached the top of the 
 stairs, and she panted as she rang the bell of the lodg 
 ing. Apparently she had rung so loud in her excite 
 ment as to rouse the suspicions of old Assunta, who 
 cautiously peered through the little square that opened 
 behind a grating in the door, before she raised the 
 latch. On seeing Lucia she began to laugh, and opened 
 quickly. 
 
 " So loud !" chuckled the old thing. " I thought it 
 was the police or Sor Marzio in a rage." 
 
CHAP, vin MAHZIO'S CRUCIFIX 163 
 
 Lucia did not heed her, but ran quickly on to the 
 sitting-room, where the Signora Pandolfi was alone, 
 seated on her straight chair and holding her bonnet in 
 her hand, the bonnet with the purple glass grapes ; she 
 was the picture of despair. Lucia made haste to com 
 fort her. 
 
 " Do not cry, mamma," she said quickly. " I have 
 arranged it all. I have seen papa. I have brought 
 Tista's money. Papa wants him to stay after all. 
 es I know you cannot guess how it all happened. 
 I went in to ask about the chickens, and then I asked 
 about Tista, and he told me that I should not see him 
 any more, and then then I felt this passion 
 here in the chest, and everything went round and 
 round and round like a whirligig at the Termini, and I 
 fell right down, mamma, down upon the bricks I 
 know, my frock is all dusty still, here, look, and here, 
 but what does it matter ? Patience ! I fell down like 
 a sack of flour pata tunfate !" 
 
 "T-t-t-t!" exclaimed the Signora Pandolfi, holding 
 up her hands and drawing in her breath as she clacked 
 her tongue against the roof of her mouth. " T-t-t-t ! 
 What a pity ! " 
 
 " And when I came to my senses I had fainted, 
 you understand I was sitting on the old straw chair 
 and papa was holding my hands in his and calling me 
 his angel ! Capperi ! But it was worth while. You 
 
164 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. VIH 
 
 can imagine the situation when he called me an angel ! 
 It is the first time I have ever fainted, mamma you 
 have no idea it was so curious ! " 
 
 " Ah, my dear, it must have softened his heart ! " 
 cried Maria Luisa. " If I could only faint away like 
 that once in a while ! Who knows ? He might be 
 converted. But what would you have ? " The sig- 
 nora glanced down sadly at her figure, which certainly 
 suggested no such weakness as she seemed to desire. 
 tf Well, Lucia," she continued, " and then ? " 
 
 " Yes, I talked to him, I implored him, I told him 
 I should probably faint again, and, indeed, I felt like 
 it. So he said I might have my way, and he told me 
 to come home and tell Tista at once. Where is 
 Tista ? " 
 
 " Eh ! He is in his room, packing up his things. I 
 will go and call him. Oh dear ! What a wonderful 
 day this is, my child ! To think that it is not yet 
 eleven o'clock, and all that has happened ! It is 
 enough to make a woman crazy, fit to send to Santo 
 Spirito. First you are to be married, and then you 
 are not to be married ! Then Gianbattista is sent 
 away after all these years, and such a good boy ! 
 And then he is taken back ! And then but the 
 chickens, Lucia, you forgot to ask about the chickens 
 
 " Not a bit of it/' answered the young girl. " I 
 
CHAP, vin MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX 165 
 
 asked first, before he told me. Afterwards, I don't 
 know I should not have had the strength to speak 
 of chickens. He said roasted, mamma. Poor Tista ! 
 He likes them with rice. Well, one cannot have 
 everything in this world." 
 
 The Signora Pandolfi had reached the door, and 
 called out at the top of her voice to the young man. 
 
 " Tista ! Tista ! " She could have been heard in 
 the street. 
 
 " Eh, Sora Luisa ! We are not in the Piazza 
 Navona," said Gianbattista, appearing at the door of 
 his little room. " What has happened ? " 
 
 "Go and talk to Lucia/' answered the good lady, 
 hurrying off in search of Assunta to tell her the de 
 cision concerning the dinner. 
 
 Gianbattista entered the sitting-room, and, from 
 the young girl's radiant expression, he guessed that 
 some favourable change had taken place in his posi 
 tion, or in the positions of them both. Lucia began 
 to tell him what had passed, and gave much the same 
 account as she had given to her mother, though some 
 of the intonations were softer, and accompanied by 
 looks which told her happiness. When she had ex 
 plained the situation she paused for an answer. Gian 
 battista stood beside her and held her hand, but he 
 looked out of the window, as though uncertain what 
 to say. 
 
166 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. VTII 
 
 " Here is the money," said Lucia. " You will take 
 it, won't you ? Then it will be all settled. What is 
 the matter, Tista ? Are you not glad ? " 
 
 "I do not trust him," answered the young man. 
 " It is not like him to change his mind like that, all 
 in a minute. He means some mischief." 
 
 " What can he do ? " 
 
 " I do not know. I feel as if some evil were com 
 ing. Patience ! Who knows ? You are an angel 
 Lucia, darling." 
 
 " Everybody is telling me so to-day," answered the 
 young girl. " Papa, you " 
 
 " Of course. It is quite true, my heart, and so 
 every one repeats it. What do you think ? Will he 
 come "home to dinner ? It is only eleven o'clock 
 perhaps I ought to go back and work at the ewer. 
 Somehow I do not want to see him just now " 
 
 " Stay with me, Tista. Besides, you were packing 
 up your belongings to go away. You have a right to 
 take an hour to unpack them. Tell me, what is this 
 idea you have that papa is not in earnest ? I want 
 to understand it. He was quite in earnest just now 
 so good, so good, like sugar ! Is it because you are 
 still angry with him, that you do not want to see 
 him ? " 
 
 " No why should I still be angry ? He has made 
 reparation. After all, I took a certain liberty with him." 
 
CHAP, vin MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX 167 
 
 " That is all the more reason. If he is willing to 
 forget it but I could tell you something, Tista, some 
 thing that would persuade you." 
 
 " What is it, my treasure ? " asked Gianbattista 
 with a smile, bending down to look into her eyes. 
 
 " Oh, something very wonderful, something of which 
 you would never dream. I could scarcely believe my 
 eyes. Imagine, when I went to find him just now, 
 the door was open. I looked through before I went 
 in, to see if you were there. Do you know what papa 
 was doing ? He was kneeling on the floor before a 
 beautiful crucifix, such a beautiful one. I think he 
 was saying prayers, but I could not see his face. He 
 stayed a long time, and then when I knocked he 
 covered it up, was not that strange ? That is the 
 reason why I persuaded him so easily to change his 
 mind." 
 
 Gianbattista smiled incredulously. He had often 
 seen Marzio kneel on the floor to get a different view 
 of a large piece of work. 
 
 " He was only looking at the work," he answered. 
 " I have seen him do it very often. He would laugh 
 if he could hear you, Lucia. Do you imagine he is 
 such a man as that ? Perhaps it would not do him 
 any harm a little praying. But it is a kind of 
 medicine he does not relish. No, Lucia, you have 
 been deceived, believe me." 
 
168 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, vm 
 
 The girl's expression changed. She had quite per 
 suaded herself that a great moral change had taken 
 place in her father that morning, and had huilt many 
 hopes upon it. To her sanguine imagination it seemed 
 as though his whole nature must have changed. She 
 had seen visions of him as she had always wished he 
 might be, and the visions had seemed likely to be 
 realised. She had doubted whether she should tell 
 any one .the story of what she regarded as Marzio's 
 conversion, but she had made an exception in favour 
 of Gianbattista. Gianbattista simply laughed, and 
 explained the matter away in half a dozen words. 
 Lucia was more deeply disappointed than any one, 
 listening to her light talk, could have believed possible. 
 Her face expressed the pain she felt, and she protested 
 against the apprentice's explanation. 
 
 " It is too bad of you, Tista," she said in hurt tones. 
 " But I do not think you are right. You have no 
 idea how quietly he knelt, and his hands were folded 
 on the bench. He bent his head once, and I believe 
 he kissed the feet I wish you could have seen it, you 
 would not doubt me. You think I have invented a 
 silly tale, I am sure you do." 
 
 The tears filled her eyes as she turned away and 
 stared vacantly out of the window at the dark houses 
 opposite. The sun, which had been shining until that 
 moment, disappeared behind a mass of driving clouds, 
 
OHAP. vni MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 169 
 
 and a few drops of rain began to beat against the 
 panes of glass. The world seemed suddenly more 
 dreary to Lucia. Gianbattista, who was sensitive 
 where she was concerned, looked at her, and under 
 stood that he had destroyed something in which she 
 had wished to believe. 
 
 " Well, well, my heart, perhaps you are right," he 
 said softly, putting his arm round her. 
 
 " No, you do not believe it," she answered. 
 
 " For you, I will believe in anything, in everything 
 even in Sor Marzio's devotions," he said, pressing 
 her to his side. " Only you see, darling, he was 
 talking in such a way a few moments before that it 
 seemed impossible " 
 
 " Nothing is quite impossible," replied Lucia. " The 
 heart beats fast. There may be a whole world between 
 one beat and the next." 
 
 " Yes, my love," assented Gianbattista, looking ten 
 derly into her eyes. " But do you think that between 
 all the beatings of our two hearts there could ever be 
 a world of change ? " 
 
 "Ah that is different, Tista. Why should we 
 change ? We could only change for worse if we 
 began to love each other less, and that is impossible. 
 But papa ! Why should he not change for the better ? 
 Who can tell you, Tista, dear, that in a moment, in a 
 
 second, after you were gone, he was not sorry for all 
 Vol. 6 H 
 
1*70 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, vin 
 
 he had done ? It may have been in an instant. Why 
 not ? " 
 
 " Things done so very quickly are not done well," 
 answered the young man. " I know that from my art. 
 You may stamp a thing in a moment with the die it 
 is rough, unfinished. It takes weeks to chisel it " 
 
 " The good God is not a chiseller, Tista." 
 
 The words fell very simply from the young girl's 
 lips, and the expression of her face did not change. 
 Only the tone of her voice was grave and quiet, and 
 there was a depth of conviction in it which struck 
 Gianbattista forcibly. In a short sentence she had 
 denned the difference between his mode of thought and 
 her own. To her mind omnipotence was a reality. 
 To him, it was an inconceivable power, the absurdity 
 of which he sought to demonstrate by comparing the 
 magnitude claimed for it with the capacities of man. 
 He remained silent for a moment, as though seeking 
 an answer. He found none, and what he said ex 
 pressed an aspiration and not a retort. 
 
 "I sometimes wish that I could believe as you do," 
 he said. " I am sure I could do much greater things, 
 make much more beautiful angels, if I were quite sure 
 that they existed." 
 
 " Of course you could," answered Lucia. Then, 
 with a tact beyond her years, she changed the subject 
 of their talk. She would not endanger the durability 
 
CHAP, vin MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX 171 
 
 of his aspiration by discussing it. " To go back to 
 what we were speaking of," she said, " you will go to 
 the workshop this afternoon, Tista, won't you ? " 
 
 " Yes," he said mechanically. " What else should I 
 do ? Oh, Lucia, my darling, I cannot bear this un 
 certainty," he cried, suddenly giving vent to his feelings. 
 " Where will it end ? He may have changed, he may 
 be all you say he is to-day, all that he was not yester 
 day, but do you really believe he has given up his wild 
 idea ? It is not all as it should be, and that is not his 
 nature. It will come upon us suddenly with some 
 thing we do not expect. He will do something I 
 cannot tell what, but I know him better than you do. 
 He is cruel, he plots over his work, and then, when all 
 seems calm, the storm breaks. It will not end well." 
 
 "We must love each other, Tista. Then all will end 
 well. Who can divide us ? " 
 
 " No one," answered the young man firmly. " But 
 many things may happen before we are united for 
 ever." 
 
 He was not subject to presentiments, and his self- 
 confident nature abhorred the prospect of trouble. 
 He had arrived at his conclusion by a logical process, 
 and there seemed no escape from it. As he had told 
 Lucia, he knew the character of the chiseller better 
 than the women of the household could know it, for 
 he had been his constant companion for years, and was 
 
172 MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, vin 
 
 not to be deceived in his estimate of Marzio's temper. 
 A man's natural disposition shows itself most clearly 
 when he is in his natural element, at his work, busied 
 in the ordinary occupations of his life. To such a man 
 as Marzio, the workshop is more sympathetic than the 
 house. Disagreeing on most points with his family, 
 obliged to be absent during the whole day, wholly 
 absorbed in the production of works which the women 
 of his household could not thoroughly appreciate, be 
 cause they did not thoroughly understand the ideas 
 which originated them, nor the methods employed in 
 their execution under these combined circumstances 
 it was to be expected that the artist's real feelings 
 would find expression at the work-bench rather than 
 in the society of his wife and daughter. Seated by 
 Marzio's side, and learning from him all that could be 
 learned, Gianbattista had acquired at the same time a 
 thorough knowledge of his instincts and emotions, which 
 neither Maria Luisa nor Lucia was able to comprehend. 
 Marzio was tenacious of his ideas and of his schemes. 
 Deficient in power of initiative and in physical courage, 
 he was obstinate beyond all belief in his adherence to 
 his theories. That he should suddenly yield to a 
 devotional impulse, fall upon his knees before a 
 crucifix and cry med culpd over his whole past life, 
 was altogether out of the question. In Gianbattista's 
 opinion it was almost as impossible that he should 
 
. Till MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 173 
 
 abandon in a moment the plan which he had an 
 nounced with so much resolution on the previous 
 evening. It was certain that before declaring his 
 determination to marry his daughter to the lawyer he 
 must have ruminated and planned during many days, 
 as it was his habit to do in all the matters of his life, 
 without consulting any one, or giving the slightest 
 hint of his intention. Some part of his remarkable 
 talent depended upon this faculty of thoroughly con 
 sidering a resolution before proceeding to carry it out ; 
 and it is a part of every really great talent in every 
 branch of creative art, for it is the result of a great 
 continuity in the action of the mind combined with 
 the power of concentration and the virtue of reticence. 
 Many a work has appeared to the world to be the 
 spontaneous creation of transcendent genius, which 
 has, in reality, been conceived, studied, and elaborated 
 during years of silence. Eeticence, concentration, and 
 continuity, are characteristics which cannot influence 
 one part of a man's life without influencing the rest as 
 well. The habit of studying before proceeding is co 
 existent with the necessity of considering before acting ; 
 and a man who is reticent concerning one half of his 
 thoughts is not communicative about the other half. 
 Nature does not do things by halves, and the nerves 
 which animate the gesture at the table are the same 
 which guide the chisel at the work-bench. 
 
174 MARZIO' S CRUCIFIX CHAP, vin 
 
 Gianbattista understood Marzio's character, and in 
 his mind tried to construct the future out of the pre 
 sent. He endeavoured to follow out what he supposed 
 to be the chiseller's train of thought to its inevitable 
 conclusion, and the more he reflected on the situation 
 the more certain he became that Lucia's hypothesis 
 was untenable. It was not conceivable, under any 
 circumstances whatever, that Marzio should suddenly 
 turn into a gentle, forgiving creature, anxious only for 
 the welfare of others, and willing to sacrifice his own 
 inclinations and schemes to that laudable end. 
 
 At twelve o'clock, Marzio appeared, cold, silent, and 
 preoccupied. His manner did not encourage the idea 
 entertained by Lucia, though the girl explained it to 
 herself on the ground that her father was ashamed of 
 having yielded so easily, and was unwilling to have it 
 thought that he was too good-natured. There was 
 truth in her idea, and it showed a good deal of com 
 mon sense and appreciation of character. But it was 
 not the whole truth. Marzio not only felt humiliated 
 at having suffered himself to be overcome by his 
 daughter's entreaties ; he regretted it, and wished he 
 could undo what he had done. It was too late, how 
 ever. To change his mind a second time would be to 
 show such weakness as his family had never witnessed 
 in his actions. 
 
 He ate his food in silence, and the rest of the party 
 
CHAP, vin MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX 175 
 
 ventured but few remarks. They inwardly congratu 
 lated themselves upon the favourable issue of the affair, 
 in so far as it could be said to have reached a conclu 
 sion, and they all dreaded equally some fresh outburst 
 of anger, should Marzio's temper be ruffled. Gian- 
 battista himself set the example of discretion. As for 
 the Signora Pandolfi, she had ready in her pocket the 
 money her husband had given her in the morning for 
 the purchase of Lucia's outfit, and she hoped at every 
 moment that Marzio would ask for it, which would 
 have been a sign that he had abandoned the idea of 
 the marriage with Carnesecchi. But Marzio never 
 mentioned the subject. He ate as quickly as he 
 could, swallowed a draught of weak wine and water, 
 and rose from the table without a word. With a 
 significant nod to Maria Luisa and Lucia, Gianbattista 
 left his seat and followed the artist towards the door. 
 Marzio looked round sharply as he heard the steps 
 behind him. 
 
 " Lucia told me," said the young man simply. " If 
 you wish it, I will come and work." 
 
 Marzio hesitated a moment, beating his soft felt hat 
 over his arm to remove the dust. 
 
 " You can go with the men and put up the prince's 
 grating," he said at last. " The right hand side is 
 ready fitted. If you work hard you can finish it be 
 fore night." 
 
1*76 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX OHAP. VHI 
 
 " Very well," answered Gianbattista. " I will see 
 to it. I have the keys here. In five minutes I will 
 tome across." 
 
 Marzio nodded and went out. Gianbattista returned 
 to the room where the women were finishing their dinner. 
 
 " It is all right," he said. " I am to put up the 
 grating this afternoon. Will you come and see it, 
 Sora Luisa ? " He spoke to the mother, but he 
 included the daughter by his look. 
 
 " It is very far," objected the Signora Pandolfi, 
 " and we have been walking so much this morning. 
 I think this day will never end ! " 
 
 " Courage, mamma," said Lucia, " it will do you 
 good to walk. Besides, there is the omnibus. What 
 did he say, Tista ? Am I not right ? " 
 
 " Who knows ? He is very quiet," replied the 
 apprentice. 
 
 "What is it? What are you right about, my heart ?" 
 asked Maria Luisa. . 
 
 " She thinks Sor Marzio has suddenly turned into a 
 sugar doll," answered Gianbattista, with a laugh. "It 
 may be. They say they make sugar out of all sorts 
 of things nowadays." 
 
 " Capperi ! It would be hard ! " exclaimed Maria 
 Luisa. " If there is enough sugar in him to sweeten 
 a teaspoonful of coffee, write to me/' she added ironi 
 cally. 
 
CHAP, vrii MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 1*77 
 
 " Well I shall be at the church in an hour, but it 
 will be time enough if you come at twenty-three 
 o'clock between twenty-two and twenty-three." This 
 means between one hour and two hours before sunset. 
 " The light is good then, for there is a big west window," 
 added Gianbattista in explanation. 
 
 " We will come before that," said Lucia. " Good 
 bye, Tista, and take care not to catch cold in that 
 damp place." 
 
 " And you too," he answered, " cover yourselves 
 carefully." 
 
 With this injunction, and a parting wave of the hand, 
 he left the house, affecting a gay humour he did not 
 really feel. His invitation to the two women to join him 
 in the church had another object besides that of show 
 ing them the magnificent gilded grating which was to 
 be put in place. Gianbattista feared that Marzio had 
 sent him upon this business for the sake of getting him 
 out of the way, and he did not know what might 
 happen in his absence. The artist might perhaps 
 choose that time for going in search of Gasparo 
 Carnesecchi in order to bring him to the house and 
 precipitate the catastrophe which the apprentice still 
 feared, in spite of the last events of the morning. It 
 was not unusual for Maria Luisa and her daughter 
 to accompany him and Marzio when a finished work 
 was to be set up, and Gianbattista knew that there 
 
178 MAKZTO'S CRUCIFIX OHAP. vm 
 
 could be no reasonable objection to such a pro 
 ceeding. 
 
 With an anxious heart he left the house and crossed 
 the street to the workshop where the men were already 
 waiting for the carts which were to convey the heavy 
 grating to its destination. The pieces were standing 
 against the walls, wrapped in tow and brown paper, 
 and immense parcels lay tied up upon the benches. 
 It was a great piece of work of the decorative kind, 
 but of the sort for which Marzio cared little. Great 
 brass castings were chiselled and finished according to 
 his designs without his touching them with his hands. 
 Huge twining arabesques of solid metal were prepared 
 in pieces and fitted together with screws that ran 
 easily in the thread, and then were taken apart again. 
 Then came the laborious work of gilding by the mer 
 cury process, smearing every piece very carefully with 
 an amalgam of mercury and gold, and putting it into 
 a gentle, steady fire, until the mercury had evaporated, 
 leaving only the dull gold in an even deposit on the 
 surfaces. Then the finishing, the burnishing of the 
 high lights, and the cleaning of the portions which 
 were to remain dull. Sometimes the gilding of a piece 
 failed, and had to be begun again, and there was end 
 less trouble in saving the gold, as well as in preventing 
 the workmen from stealing the amalgam. It was slow 
 and troublesome work, and Marzio cared little for it. 
 
CHAP. Till MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX 1*79 
 
 though his artistic instinct restrained him from allowing 
 it to leave the workshop until it had been perfected 
 to the highest degree. 
 
 At present the artist stood in the outer room among 
 the wrapped pieces, his pipe in his mouth and his 
 hands in his pockets. A moment after Gianbattista 
 had entered, two carts rolled up to the door and the 
 loading began. 
 
 " Take the drills and some screws to spare," said 
 Marzio, looking into the bag of tools the foreman had 
 prepared. " One can never tell in these monstrous 
 things." 
 
 " It will be the first time, if we have to drill a new 
 hole after you have fitted a piece of work, Maestro 
 Marzio," answered the foreman, who had an unlimited 
 admiration for his master's genius and foresight. 
 
 " Never mind ; do as I tell you. We may all make 
 mistakes in this world," returned the artist, giving 
 utterance to a moral sentiment which did not influence 
 him beyond the precincts of the workshop. The 
 workman obeyed, and added the requisite instruments 
 to the furnishing of his leather bag. 
 
 " And be careful, Tista," added Marzio, turning to 
 the apprentice. " Look to the sockets in the marble 
 when you place the large pieces. Measure them with 
 your compass, you know ; if they are too loose you 
 have the thin plates of brass to pack them ; if they 
 
180 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, vnr 
 
 are tight, file away, but finish and smooth it well 
 Don't leave anything rough." 
 
 Gianbattista nodded as he lent a helping hand to 
 the workmen who were carrying the heavy pieces to 
 the. carts. 
 
 " Will you come to the church before night ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " Perhaps. I cannot tell. I am very busy." 
 
 In ten minutes the pieces were all piled upon the 
 two vehicles, and Gianbattista strode away on foot with 
 the workmen. He had not thought of changing his 
 dress, and had merely thrown an old overcoat over his 
 grey woollen blouse. For the time, he was an artisan 
 at work. When working hours were over, and on 
 Sundays, he loved to put on the stiff high collar and 
 the checked clothes which suggested the garments of 
 the English tourist. He was then a different person, 
 and, in accordance with the change, he would smoke 
 a cigarette and pull his cuffs over his hands, like a 
 real gentleman, adjusting thje angle of his hat from 
 time to time, and glancing at his reflection in the shop 
 windows as he passed along. But work was work ; it 
 was a pity to spoil good clothes with handling tools 
 and castings, and jostling against the men, and, more 
 over, the change affected his nature. He could not 
 handle a hammer or a chisel when he felt like a real 
 gentleman, and when he felt like an artisan he must 
 
OH1.P. VIII MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 181 
 
 enjoy the liberty of being able to tuck up his sleeves 
 and work with a will. At the present moment, too, 
 he was proud of being in sole charge of the work, 
 and he could not help thinking what a fine thing it 
 would be to be married to Lucia and to be the master 
 of the workshop. With the sanguine enthusiasm of a 
 very young man who loves his occupation, he put his 
 whole soul into what he was to do, assured that 
 every skilful stroke of the hammer, every difficulty 
 overcome, brought him nearer to the woman he loved. 
 
 Marzio entered the inner studio when Gianbattista 
 was gone, leaving a boy who was learning to cut little 
 files the preliminary to the chiseller's profession in 
 charge of the outer workshop. The artist shut himself 
 in and bolted the door, glad to be alone with the pros 
 pect of not being disturbed during the whole afternoon. 
 He seemed not to hesitate about the work he intended 
 to do, for he immediately took in hand the crucifix, 
 laid it upon the table, and began to study it, using a 
 lens from time to time as he scrutinised each detail. 
 His rough hair fell forward over his forehead, and his 
 shoulders rounded themselves till he looked almost 
 deformed. 
 
 He had suffered very strong emotions during the 
 last twenty-four hours enough to have destroyed the 
 steadiness of an ordinary man's hand ; but with Marzio 
 manual skill was the first habit of nature, and it would 
 
182 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX . CHAP, vin 
 
 have been hard to find a mental impression which 
 could shake his physical nerves. Hie mind, however, 
 worked rapidly and almost fiercely, while his eyes 
 searched the minute lines of the work he was ex 
 amining. 
 
 Uppermost in his thoughts was a confused sense of 
 humiliation and of exasperation against his brother. 
 The anger he felt had nearly been expressed in a 
 murderous deed not more than two or three hours 
 earlier, and the wish to strike was still present in his 
 mind. He twisted his lips into an ugly smile as he 
 recalled the scene in every detail ; but the determina 
 tion was different from the reality and more in accord 
 ance with his feelings. He realised again that moment 
 during which he had held the sharp instrument over his 
 brother's head, and the thought which had then passed 
 so rapidly through his brain recurred again with in 
 creased clearness. He remembered that beneath the 
 iron-bound box in the corner there was a trap- door 
 which descended to the unused cellar, for his work 
 shop had in former times been a wine-shop, and he had 
 hired the cellar with it. One sharp blow would have 
 done the business. A few quick movements and 
 Paolo's body would have been thrown down the dark 
 steps beneath, the trap closed again, the safe replaced 
 in its position. It was eleven o'clock then, or there 
 abouts. He would have sent the workmen to their 
 
CHAP. VIII MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 183 
 
 dinner, and would have returned to the inner studio. 
 They would have supposed afterwards that Don Paolo 
 had left the place with him. He would have gone 
 home and would have said that Paolo had left him 
 or, no he would have said that Paolo had not been 
 there, for some one might see him leave the workshop 
 alone. In the night he would have returned, his 
 family thinking he had gone to meet his friends, as 
 he often did. When the streets were quiet he weuld 
 have carried the body away upon the handcart that 
 stood in the entry of the outer room. It was not far 
 scarcely three hundred yards, allowing for the turnings 
 to the place where the Via Montella ends in a mud 
 bank by the dark river. A deserted neighbourhood, 
 too a turn to the left, the low trees of the Piazza de* 
 Branca, the dark, short, straight street to the water. 
 At one o'clock after midnight who was stirring ? 
 It would all have been so simple, so terribly 
 effectual. 
 
 And then there would have been no more Paolo, 
 no more domestic annoyances, no more of the priest's 
 smooth-faced disapprobation and perpetual opposi 
 tion in the house. He would have soon brought 
 Maria Luisa and Lucia to reason. What could they 
 do without the support of Paolo ? They were only 
 women after all. As for Gianbattista, if once the 
 poisonous influence of Paolo were removed and how 
 
184 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, vni 
 
 surely removed ! Marzio's lips twisted as though he 
 were tasting the sourness of failure, like an acid fruit 
 if once the priest were gone, Gianbattista would 
 come back to his old ways, to his old scorn of priests 
 in general, of churches, of oppression, of everything 
 that Marzio hated. He might marry Lucia then, and 
 be welcome. After all, he was a finer fellow for the 
 pretty girl than Gasparo Carnesecchi, with his claw 
 fingers and his vinegar salad. That was only a farce, 
 that proposal about the lawyer the real thing was to 
 get rid of Paolo. There could be no healthy liberty 
 of thought in the house while this fellow was sneaking 
 in and out at all hours. Tumble Paolo into a quiet 
 grave into the river with a sackful of old castings at 
 his neck there would be peace then, and freedom. 
 Marzio ground his teeth as he thought how nearly he 
 had done the thing, and how miserably he had failed. 
 It had been the inspiration of the moment, and the 
 details had appeared clear at once to his mind. Going 
 over them he found that he had not been mistaken. 
 If Paolo came again, and he had the chance, he would 
 do it. It was perhaps all the better that he had found 
 time to weigh the matter. 
 
 But would Paolo come again ? Would he ever 
 trust himself alone in the workshop ? Had he guessed, 
 when he turned so suddenly and saw the weapon in the 
 air, that the blow was on the very point of descending ? 
 
OHAP. vin MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 185 
 
 Or had he been deceived by the clumsy excuse Marzio 
 had made about the sun shining in his eyes ? 
 
 He had remained calm, or Marzio tried to think so. 
 But the artist himself had been so much moved during 
 the minutes that followed that he could hardly feel 
 sure of Paolo's behaviour. It was a chilling thought, 
 that Paolo might have understood and might have 
 gone away feeling that his life had been saved almost 
 by a miracle. He would not come back, the cunning 
 priest, in that case ; he would not risk his precious 
 skin in such company. It was not to be expected a 
 priest was only human, after all, like any other man. 
 Marzio cursed his ill luck again as he bent over his 
 work. What a moment this would be if Paolo would 
 take it into his head to make another visit ! Even 
 the men were gone. He would send the one boy who 
 remained to the church where Gianbattista was work- 
 ing, with a message. They would be alone then, he 
 and Paolo. The priest might scream and call for help 
 the thick walls would not let any sound through 
 them. It would be even better than in the morning, 
 when he had lost his opportunity by a moment, by 
 the twinkling of an eye. 
 
 "They say hell is paved with good intentions or 
 lost opportunities," muttered Marzio. " I will send 
 Paolo with the next opportunity to help in the 
 paving." 
 
186 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, vin 
 
 He laughed softly at his grim joke, and bent lower 
 over the crucifix. By this time he had determined 
 what to do, for his reflections had not interfered with 
 his occupation. Removing two tiny silver screws 
 which fitted with the utmost exactness in the threads, 
 he loosened the figure from the cross, removed the 
 latter to a shelf on the wall, and returning laid the 
 statue on a soft leathern pad, surrounding it with 
 sand-bags till it was propped securely in the position 
 he required. Then he took a very small chisel, ad 
 justed it with the greatest care, and tapped upon it 
 with the round wooden handle of his little hammer. 
 At each touch he examined the surface with his lens 
 to assure himself that he was making the improve 
 ment he contemplated. It was very delicate work, 
 and as he did it he felt a certain pride in the reflec 
 tion that he could not have detected the place where 
 improvement was possible when he had worked upon 
 the piece ten years ago. He found it now, in the 
 infinitesimal touches upon the expression of the face, 
 in the minute increase in the depressions and accentu 
 ated lines in the anatomy of the figure. As he went 
 over each portion he became more and more certain 
 that though he could not at present do better in the 
 way of idea and general execution, he had nevertheless 
 gained in subtle knowledge of effects and in skill of 
 handling the chisel upon very delicate points. The 
 
CHAP. Tin MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX 187 
 
 certainty gave him the real satisfaction of legitimate 
 pride. He knew that he had reached the zenith of 
 his capacities. His old wish to keep the crucifix for 
 himself began to return. 
 
 If he disposed of Paolo he might keep his work. 
 Only Paolo had seen it. The absurd want of logic 
 in the conclusion did not strike him. He had not 
 pledged himself to his brother to give this particular 
 crucifix to the Cardinal, and if he had, he could easily 
 have found a reason for keeping it back. But he was 
 too much accustomed to think that Paolo was always 
 in the way of his wishes, to look at so simple a matter 
 in such a simple light. 
 
 " It is strange," he said to himself. " The smallest 
 things seem to point to it. If he would only come ! " 
 
 Again his mind returned to the contemplation of 
 the deed, and again he reviewed all the circumstances 
 necessary for its safe execution. What an inspiration, 
 he thought, and what a pity it had not found shape in 
 fact at the very moment when it had presented itself ! 
 He considered why he had never thought of it before, 
 in all the years, as a means of freeing himself effect 
 ually from the despotism he detested. It was a 
 despotism, he reflected, and no other word expressed 
 it. He recalled many scenes in his home, in which 
 Paolo had interfered. He remembered how one Sun 
 day, in the afternoon, they had all been together before 
 
188 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, vin 
 
 going to walk in the Corso, and how he had undertaken 
 to demonstrate to Maria Luisa and Lucia the folly of 
 wasting time in going to church on Sundays. He had 
 argued gently and reasonably, he thought. But sud 
 denly Paolo had interrupted him, saying that he would 
 not allow Marzio to compare a church to a circus, nor 
 priests to mountebanks and tight-rope dancers. "Why 
 not ? Then the women had begun to scream and cry, 
 and to talk of his blasphemous language until he could 
 not hear himself speak. It was Paolo's fault. If Paolo 
 had not been there the women would have listened 
 patiently enough, and would doubtless have reaped 
 some good from his reasonable discourse. On another 
 occasion Marzio had declared that Lucia should never 
 be taught anything about Christianity, that the defini 
 tion of God was reason, that Garibaldi had baptized 
 one child in the name of Eeason and that he, Marzio, 
 could baptize another quite as effectually. Paolo had 
 interfered, and Maria Luisa had screamed. The con 
 test had lasted nearly a month, at the end of which 
 time, Marzio had been obliged to abandon the uneven 
 contest, vowing vengeance in some shape for the future. 
 Many and many such scenes rose to his memory, 
 and in every one Paolo was the opposer, the enemy 
 of his peace, the champion of all that he hated and 
 despised. In great things and small his brother had 
 been his antagonist from his early manhood, through 
 
OHAP. vin MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX 189 
 
 eighteen years of married life to the present day. 
 And yet, without Paolo, he could hardly have hoped 
 to find himself in his present state of fortune. 
 
 This was one of the chief sources of his humiliation 
 in his own eyes. With such a character as his, it 
 is eminently true that it is harder to forgive a benefit 
 than an injury. He might have felt less bitterly 
 against his brother if he had not received at Ms hands 
 the orders and commissions which had turned into solid 
 money in the bank. It was hard to face Paolo, know 
 ing that he owed two-thirds of his fortune to such a 
 source. If he could get rid of the priest he would 
 be relieved at once from the burden of this annoy 
 ance, of this financial subjection, as well of all that 
 embittered his life. He pictured to himself his wife 
 and daughter listening respectfully to his harangues 
 and beginning to practise his principles, Gianbattista, 
 an eloquent member of the society in the inner room 
 of the old inn, reformed, purged from his sneaking 
 fondness for Paolo since Paolo would not be in the 
 world any longer and ultimately married to Lucia, 
 the father of children who should all be baptized in the 
 name of Reason, and the worthy successor of himself, 
 Marzio Pandolfi. 
 
 Scrutinising the statue under his lens, lie detected 
 a slight imperfection in the place where one of the 
 sharp thorns touched the silver forehead of the beauti- 
 
190 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. Tin 
 
 ful, turtured head. He looked about for a tool fine 
 enough for the work, but none suited his wants. He 
 took up the long fine-pointed punch he had thrown 
 back upon the table after the scene in the morning. 
 It was too long, and over sharp, but by turning it 
 sideways it would do the work under his dexterous 
 fingers. 
 
 " Strange ! " he muttered, as he tapped upon the 
 tool. " It is like a consecration ! " 
 
 When he had made the stroke he dropped the 
 instrument into the pocket of his blouse, as though 
 fearing to lose it. He had no occasion to use it again, 
 though he went on with his work during several 
 hours. 
 
 The thoughts which had passed through his brain 
 recurred, and did not diminish in clearness. On the 
 contrary, it was as though the passing impulse of the 
 morning had grown during those short hours into a 
 settled and unchangeable resolution. Once he rose 
 from his stool, and going to the corner, dragged away 
 the iron-bound safe from its place. A rusty ring lay 
 flat in a little hollow in the surface of the trap-door. 
 Marzio bent over it with a pale face and gleaming 
 eyes. It seemed to him as though, if he looked round, 
 he should see Paolo's body lying on the floor, ready to 
 be dropped into the space below. He raised the wood 
 and set the trap back against the wall, peering down 
 
CHAP, viii MAKZTO'S CRUCIFIX 191 
 
 into the black depths. A damp smell came up to his 
 nostrils from the moist staircase. He struck a match, 
 and held it into the opening, to see in what direction 
 the stairs led down. 
 
 Something moved behind him and made a little 
 noise. With a short cry of horror Marzio sprang 
 back from the opening and looked round. It was as 
 though the body of the murdered man had stirred 
 upon the floor. His overstrained imagination terrified 
 him, and his eyes started from his head. He examined 
 the bench and saw the cause of the sound in a moment 
 The silver Christ, unsteadily propped in the position 
 in which he had just placed it, had fallen upon one 
 side of the pad by its own weight. 
 
 Marzio's heart still beat desperately as he went 
 back to the hole and carefully reclosed the trap-door, 
 dragging the heavy safe to its position over the ring. 
 Trembling violently, he sat down upon his stool and 
 wiped the cold perspiration from his forehead. Then, 
 as he laid the figure upon the cushion, he glanced 
 uneasily behind him and at the corner. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 WHEN Don Paolo had shut the door of the studio 
 and found himself once more in the open street, 
 he felt a strangely unpleasant sensation about the 
 heart, and for a few moments he was very pale. 
 He had suffered a shock, and in spite of his best 
 efforts to explain away what had occurred, he knew 
 that he had been in danger. Any one who, being him 
 self defenceless, has suddenly seen a pistol pointed at him 
 in earnest, or a sharp weapon raised in the air to strike 
 him, knows the feeling well enough. Probably he has 
 afterwards tried to reason upon what he felt in that 
 moment, and has failed to come to any conclusion 
 except the very simple one, that he was badly fright 
 ened. Hector was no coward, but he let Achilles 
 chase him three times round Troy before he could 
 make up his mind to stand and fight, and but for 
 Athena he might have run even further. And yet 
 Hector was armed at all points for battle. He was 
 badly frightened, brave man as he was. 
 
 But when the first impression was gone, and Paolo 
 
CHAP, ix MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 193 
 
 was walking quickly in the direction of the palace 
 where the Cardinal lived, he stoutly denied to him 
 self that Marzio had meant to harm him. In the first 
 place, he could find no adequate reason for such an 
 attempt upon his life. It was true that his relations 
 with his brother had not heen very amicable for some 
 time ; but between quarrelling and doing murder, 
 Paolo saw a gulf too wide to be easily overstepped, 
 even by such a person as Marzio. Then, too, the 
 good man was unwilling to suspect any one of bad 
 intentions, still less of meditating a crime. This con 
 sideration, however, was not, logically speaking, in 
 Marzio' s favour; for since Paolo was less suspicious 
 than other men, it must necessarily have needed a 
 severe shock to shake his faith in his brother's inno 
 cence. He had seen the weapon in the air, and had 
 seen also the murderous look in the artist's eyes. 
 
 " I had better not think anything more about it," 
 he said to himself, fearing lest he should think any 
 thing unjust. - 
 
 So he went on his way towards the palace, and 
 tried to think about Gianbattista and Lucia, their mar 
 riage and their future life. The two young faces came 
 up before him as he walked, and he smiled calmly, 
 forgetting what he had so recently passed through, in 
 the pleasant contemplation of a happiness not his own. 
 
 He reached his rooms, high up at the top of the ancient 
 VoL 6 I 
 
194 MARZIO'S CEUCIFIX CHAP, ix 
 
 building, and he sighed with a sense of relief as he 
 sat down upon the battered old chair before his writing- 
 table. 
 
 Presently the Cardinal sent for him. Don Paolo 
 rose and carefully brushed the dust from his cassock 
 and mantle, and smoothed the long silk nap of his hat. 
 He was a very neat man and scrupulous as to his 
 appearance. Moreover, he regarded the Cardinal with 
 a certain awe, as being far removed beyond the sphere 
 of ordinary humanity; even though he had known him 
 intimately for years. This idea of the great importance 
 of the princes of the Church is inherent in the Eoman 
 mind. There is no particular reason why it should be 
 eradicated, since it exists, and does no harm to any one, 
 but it is a singular fact and worthy of remark. It is 
 one of those many relics of old times, which no amount 
 of outward change has been able to obliterate. A 
 cardinal in Eome occupies a position wholly distinct 
 from that of any other dignitary or hereditary noble. 
 It is not so elsewhere, except perhaps in some parts 
 of the south. The Piedmontese scoffs at cardinals, 
 because he scoffs at the church and at all religion in 
 general. The Florentine shrugs his shoulders because 
 cardinals represent Eome, and Eome, with all that is 
 in it, is hateful to Florence, and always was. But the 
 true Eoman, even when he has adopted the ideas of 
 the new school, still feels an unaccountable reverence 
 
CHAP. IX MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 195 
 
 for the scarlet mantle. There is a dignity often, now, 
 very far from magnificent about the household of a 
 cardinal, which is not found elsewhere. The servants 
 are more grave and tread more softly, the rooms are 
 darker and more severe, the atmosphere is more still 
 and the silence more intense, than in the houses of 
 lay princes. A man feels in the very air the presence 
 of a far-reaching power, noiselessly working to produce 
 great results. 
 
 Don Paolo descended the stairs and entered the 
 apartments through the usual green baize door, which 
 swung upon its hinges by its own weight behind him. 
 He passed through several large halls, scantily and 
 sombrely furnished, in the last of which stood the 
 throne chair, turned to the wall, beneath a red canopy. 
 Beyond this great reception -chamber, and communi 
 cating with it by a low masked door, was the 
 Cardinal's study, a small room, very high and lighted 
 by a single tall window which opened upon an inner 
 court of the palace. The furniture was very simple, 
 consisting of a large writing-table, a few high-backed 
 chairs, and the Cardinal's own easy-chair, covered with 
 dingy leather and well worn by use. On the dark 
 green walls hung two engravings, one a portrait of 
 Pius IX., the other a likeness of Leo XIII. The 
 Cardinal himself sat in the arm-chair, holding a news 
 paper spread out upon his knees. 
 
196 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX OHAP. ix 
 
 " Good-day, Don Paolo," he said, in a pleasant, but 
 not very musical voice. 
 
 His Eminence was a man about sixty years of age, 
 hale and strong in appearance, but below the middle 
 height and somewhat inclining to stoutness. His face 
 was round, and the complexion very clear, which, with 
 his small and bright brown eyes, gave him a look of 
 cheerful vitality. Short white hair fringed his head 
 where it was not covered by the small scarlet skull-cap. 
 He wore a purple cassock with scarlet buttons and a 
 scarlet silk mantle, which fell in graceful folds over 
 one arm of the chair. 
 
 " Good-day, Eminence," answered Don Paolo, touch 
 ing the great ruby ring with his lips. Then, in 
 obedience to a gesture, the priest sat down upon one of 
 the high-backed chairs. 
 
 " What weather have we to-day ?" asked the Cardinal 
 after a pause. 
 
 " Scirocco, Eminence." 
 
 "Ah, I thought so especially this morning, very 
 early. It is very disagreeable. Since Padre Secchi 
 found that the scirocco really brings the sand of the 
 desert with it, I dislike it more than ever. And what 
 have you been doing, Don Paolo ? Have you been to 
 see about the crucifix ?" 
 
 " I spoke to my brother about it last night, Emin 
 ence. He said he would do his best to make it in the 
 
CHAP. IX MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 197 
 
 time, but that he would have preferred to have a little 
 longer." 
 
 " He is a good artist, your brother," said the 
 Cardinal, nodding his head slowly and joining his 
 hands, while the newspaper slipped to the floor. 
 
 "A good artist," repeated Don Paolo, stooping to 
 pick up the sheet. " I have just seen his best work 
 a crucifix such as your Eminence wishes. Indeed, 
 he proposed that you should take it, for he says he 
 can make nothing better." 
 
 " Let us see, let us see," answered the prelate, in a 
 tone which showed that lie did not altogether like the 
 proposal. " You say he has it already made. Tell 
 me, has your brother much work to do just now ?" 
 
 " Not much, Eminence. He has just finished the 
 grating of a chapel for some church or other. I think 
 I saw a silver ewer begun upon his table." 
 
 " I thought that perhaps he had not time for my 
 crucifix." 
 
 " But he is an artist, my brother ! cried the priest, 
 who resented the idea that Marzio might wish to palm 
 off an ill-made object in order to save time. " He is 
 a good artist, he loves the work, he always does his 
 best ! When he says he can do nothing better than 
 what he has already finished, I believe him." 
 
 " So much the better," replied the Cardinal. " But 
 we must see the work before deciding. You seem to 
 
198 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, ix 
 
 have great faith in your brother's good intentions, Don 
 Paolo. Is it not true ? Dear me ! You were almost 
 angry with me for suggesting that he might be too 
 busy to undertake my commission." 
 
 " Angry ! I angry ? Your Eminence is unjust. 
 Marzio puts much conscience into his work. That is 
 all." 
 
 " Ah, he is a man of conscience ? I did not know. 
 Bat, being your brother, he should be, Don Paolo." 
 The prelate's bright brown eyes twinkled. 
 
 Paolo was silent, though he bowed his head in 
 acknowledgment of the indirect praise. 
 
 " You do not say anything," observed the Cardinal, 
 looking at his secretary with a smile. 
 
 " He is a man of convictions," answered Paolo, at 
 last. 
 
 " That is better than nothing, better than being 
 lukewarm. ' Because thou art lukewarm,' you know 
 the rest." 
 
 " Incipiam te evomere" replied the priest mechani 
 cally. " Marzio is not lukewarm." 
 
 " Prigidusne ?" asked the Cardinal. 
 
 " Hardly that." 
 
 " An calidus ?" 
 
 "Not very, Eminence. That is, not exactly." 
 
 " But then, in heaven's name, what is he ?" laughed 
 the prelate. " If he is not cold, nor hot, nor luke- 
 
CHAP, ix MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 199 
 
 warm, what is he ? He interests me. He is a singu 
 lar case." 
 
 " He is a man who has his opinions," answered Don 
 Paolo. " What shall I say ? He is so good an artist 
 that he is a little crazy about other things." 
 
 " His opinions are not ours, I suppose. I have 
 sometimes thought as much from the way you speak of 
 him. Well, well he is not old ; his opinions will 
 change. You are very much attached to your brother, 
 Don Paolo, are you not ?" 
 
 "We are brothers, Eminence." 
 
 " So were Cain and Abel, if I am not mistaken," 
 observed the Cardinal. Paolo looked about the room 
 uneasily. "I only mean to say," continued the pre 
 late, " that men may be brothers and yet not love each 
 other." 
 
 " Come si f& ? What can one do about it ? " ejacu 
 lated Paolo. 
 
 "You must try and influence him. You must do 
 your best to make him change his views. You must 
 make an effort to bring him to a better state of mind." 
 
 " Eh ! I know," answered the priest. "I do my 
 best, but I do not succeed. He thinks I interfere. I 
 am not San Filippo Neri. Why should I conceal the 
 matter ? Marzio is not a bad man, but he is crazy 
 about what he calls politics. He believes in a new 
 state of things. He thinks that everything is bad and 
 
200 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, ix 
 
 ought to be destroyed. Then he and his friends would 
 build up the ideal state." 
 
 " There would soon be nothing but equality to eat 
 -fried, roast and boiled. I have heard that there are 
 socialists even here in Eome. I cannot imagine what 
 they want." 
 
 " They want to divide the wealth of the country 
 among themselves," answered Don Paolo. " What 
 strange ideas men have !" 
 
 " To divide the wealth of the country they have 
 only to subtract a paper currency from an inflated 
 national debt. There would be more unrighteousness 
 than mammon left after such a proceeding. It reminds 
 me of a story I heard last year. A deputation of 
 socialists waited upon a high personage in Vienna. 
 Who knows what for ? But they went. They told 
 him that it was his duty to divide his wealth amongst 
 the inhabitants of the city. And he said they were 
 quite right. ' Look here/ said he, ' I possess about 
 seven hundred thousand florins. It chances that 
 Vienna has about seven hundred thousand inhabitants. 
 Here, you have each one florin. It is your share. 
 Good-morning.' You see he was quite just. So, per 
 haps, if your brother had his way, and destroyed 
 everything, and divided the proceeds equally, he would 
 have less afterwards than he had before. What do 
 you think ?" 
 
CHAP. IX MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX 201 
 
 " It is quite true, Eminence. But I am afraid he 
 will never understand that. He has very unchange 
 able opinions." 
 
 " They will change all the more suddenly when he 
 is tired of them. Those ideas are morbid, like the 
 ravings of a man in a fever. When the fever has 
 worn itself out, there comes a great sense of lassitude, 
 and a desire for peace." 
 
 " Provided it ever really does wear itself out," said 
 Don Paolo, sadly. 
 
 " Eh ! it will, some day. With such political ideas, 
 I suppose your brother is an atheist, is he not ?" 
 
 " I hope he believes in something/' replied the 
 priest evasively. 
 
 " And yet he makes a good living by manufactur 
 ing vessels for the service of the Church," continued 
 the Cardinal, with a smile. "Why did you never 
 tell me about your brother's peculiar views, Don 
 Paolo?" 
 
 " Why should I trouble you with such matters ? I 
 am sorry I have said so much, for no one can under 
 stand exactly what Marzio is, who does not know him. 
 It is an injury to him to let your Eminence know that 
 he is a freethinker. And yet he is not a bad man, I 
 believe. He has no vices that I know of, except a 
 sharp tongue. He is sober and works hard. That is 
 much in these days. Though he is mistaken, he will 
 
202 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, ix 
 
 doubtless come to his senses, as you say. I do not 
 hate him. I would not injure him." 
 
 " Why do you think it can harm him to let me 
 know about him ? Do you think that I, or others, 
 would not employ him if we knew all about him ? " 
 
 " It would seem natural that your Eminence should 
 hesitate to do so." 
 
 " Let us see, Don Paolo. There are some bad 
 priests in the world, I suppose ; are there not ? " 
 
 " It is to be feared " 
 
 " Yes, there are. There are bad priests in all forms 
 of religion. Yet they say mass. Of course, very 
 often the people know that they are bad. Do you 
 think that the mass is less efficacious for the salvation 
 of those who attend it, provided that they themselves 
 pray with the same earnestness ? " 
 
 " No ; certainly not. For otherwise it would be 
 necessary that the people should ascertain whether 
 the priest is in a state of grace every time he cele 
 brates ; and since their salvation would then depend 
 upon that, they would be committing a sin if they did 
 not examine the relative morality of different priests 
 and select the most saintly one." 
 
 "Well then, so much the more is it indifferent 
 whether the inanimate vessels we use are chiselled by a 
 saint or an unbeliever. Their use sanctifies them, not 
 the moral goodness of the artist. For, by your own 
 
CHAP, ix MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 203 
 
 argument, we should otherwise be committing a sin if 
 we did not find out the most saintly men and set 
 them to silver -chiselling instead of ordaining them 
 bishops and archbishops. It would take a long time 
 to build a church if you only employed masons who 
 were in a state of grace." 
 
 "Well, but would you not prefer that the artist 
 should be a good man ? " 
 
 "For his own sake, Don Paolo, for his own sake. 
 The thing he makes is not at all less worthy if he is 
 bad. Are there not in many of our churches pillars 
 that stood in Eoman temples ? Is not the canopy over 
 the high altar in Saint Peter's made of the bronze roof 
 of the Pantheon ? And besides, what is goodness ? 
 We are all bad, but some are worse than others. 
 It is not our business to judge, or to distribute com 
 missions for works of art to those whom we think the 
 best among men, as one gives medals and prizes to 
 industrious and well-behaved children." 
 
 "That is very clear, and very true," answered the 
 priest. 
 
 He did not really want to discuss the question 
 of Marzio's belief or unbelief. Perhaps, if he had not 
 been disturbed in mind by the events of the morning 
 he would have avoided the subject, as he had often 
 done before when the Cardinal had questioned him. 
 But to-day he was not quite himself, and being unable 
 
204 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, ix 
 
 to tell a falsehood of any kind he had spoken more of 
 the truth than he had wished. He felt that he had 
 perhaps been unjust to his brother. He looked ill at 
 ease, and the Cardinal noticed it, for he was a kindly 
 man and very fond of his secretary. 
 
 "You must not let the matter trouble you," said 
 the prelate, after a pause. " I am an inquisitive old 
 man, as you know, and I like to be acquainted with 
 my friends' affairs. But I am afraid I have annoyed 
 you " 
 
 " Oh ! Your Eminence could never " 
 
 " Never intentionally," interrupted the Cardinal 
 " But it is human to err, and it is especially human to 
 bore one's fellow-creatures with inquisitive questions. 
 We all have our troubles, Don Paolo, and I am yours. 
 Some day, perhaps, you will be a cardinal yourself 
 who knows ? I hope so. And then you will have an 
 excellent secretary, who will be much too good, even 
 for you, and whom you can torture by the hour 
 together with inquiries about his relations. Well, if 
 it is only for your sake, Sor Marzio shall never have 
 any fewer commissions, even if he turn out more in 
 earnest with his socialism than most of those fellows." 
 
 "You are too kind," said Paolo simply. 
 
 He was very grateful for the kindly words, for he 
 knew that they were meant and not said merely in 
 jest. The idea that he had perhaps injured Marzio in 
 
CHAP. TX MABZIO'S CRUCIFIX 205 
 
 the Cardinal's estimation was very painful to him, in 
 spite of what he had felt that morning. Moreover, 
 the prelate's plain, common -sense view of the case 
 reassured him, and removed a doubt that had long ago 
 disturbed his peace of mind. On reflection it seemed 
 true enough, and altogether reasonable, but Paolo 
 knew in his heart what a sensation of repulsion, not 
 to say loathing, he would experience if he should ever 
 be called upon to use in the sacred services a vessel of 
 his brother's making. The thought that those long, 
 cruel fingers of Marzio's ' had hammered and worked 
 out the delicate design would pursue him and disturb 
 his thoughts. The sound of Marzio's voice, mocking 
 at all the priest held holy, would be in his ears and 
 would mingle with the very words of the canon. 
 
 But then, provided that he himself were not obliged to 
 use his brother's chalices, what could it matter ? The 
 Cardinal did not know the artist, and whatever picture 
 he might make to himself of the man would be 
 shadowy and indistinct. The feeling, then, was his 
 own and quite personal. It would be the height of 
 superstitious folly to suppose that any evil principle 
 could be attached to the silver and gold because they 
 were chiselled by impious hands. A simple matter 
 this, but one which had many a time distressed Don 
 Paolo. 
 
 There was a long pause after the priest's last words, 
 
206 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, ix 
 
 during which the prelate looked at him from time to 
 time, examined his own white hands, and turned his 
 great ruby ring round his finger. 
 
 " Let us go to work," he said at length, as though 
 dismissing the subject of the conversation from his 
 mind. 
 
 Paolo fetched a large portfolio of papers and estab 
 lished himself at the writing-table, while the Cardinal 
 examined the documents one by one, and dictated what 
 he had to say about them to his secretary. During 
 two hours or more the two men remained steadily at 
 their task. When the last paper was read and the last 
 note upon it written out, the Cardinal rose from his 
 arm-chair and went to the window. There was no 
 sound in the room but that of the sand rattling upon 
 the stiff surface, as Paolo poured it over the wet ink 
 in the old-fashioned way, shook it about and returned 
 it to the little sandbox by the inkstand. Suddenly 
 the old churchman turned round and faced the priest. 
 
 " One of these days, when you and I are asleep out 
 there at San Lorenzo, there will be a fight, my friend," 
 he said. 
 
 " About what, Eminence ? " asked the other. 
 
 "About silver chalices, perhaps. About many 
 things. It will be a great fight, such as the world 
 has never seen before." 
 
 " I do not understand/' said Don Paolo. 
 
CHAP. IX MARZIO'S CKUCIFIX 207 
 
 "Your brother represents an idea," answered the 
 Cardinal. "That idea is the subversion of all social 
 principle. It is an idea which must spread, because 
 there is an enormous number of depraved men in the 
 world who have a very great interest in the destruction 
 of law. The watchword of that party will always be 
 ' there is no God/ because God is order, and they desire 
 disorder. They will, it is true, always be a minority, 
 because the greater part of mankind are determined 
 that order shall not be destroyed. But those fellows 
 will fight to the death, because they know that in that 
 battle there will be no quarter for the vanquished. It 
 will be a mighty struggle and will last long, but it 
 will be decisive, and will perhaps never be revived 
 when it is once over. Men will kill each other where- 
 ever they meet, during months and years, before the 
 end comes, for all men who say that there is a God in 
 Heaven will be upon the one side, and all those who 
 say there is no God will be upon the other." 
 
 " May we not be alive to see anything so dreadful!" 
 exclaimed Don Paolo devoutly. 
 
 "No, you and I shall not see it. But those little 
 children who are playing with chestnuts down there in 
 the court they will see it. The world is uneasy and 
 dreads the very name of war, lest war should become 
 universal if it once breaks out. Tell your brother 
 that." 
 
208 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, ix 
 
 " It is what he longs for. He is always speaking 
 of it." 
 
 " Then it is inevitable. When many millions like 
 him have determined that there shall be evil done, it 
 cannot long be warded off. Their blood be on their 
 own heads." 
 
 When Don Paolo had climbed again to his lonely 
 lodging, half an hour later, he pondered long upon 
 what the Cardinal had said to him, and the longer he 
 thought of it, the more truth there seemed to be in 
 the prediction. 
 
CHAPTEK X 
 
 GIANBATTISTA reached the church in which he was to do 
 his work, and superintended the unloading of the carts. 
 It was but a little after one o'clock, and he expected 
 to succeed in putting up the grating before night. The 
 pieces were carefully carried to the chapel where they 
 were to be placed, and laid down in the order in which 
 they would be needed. It took a long time to arrange 
 them, and the apprentice was glad he had advised 
 Maria Luisa and Lucia to come late. It would have 
 wearied them, he reflected, to assist at the endless 
 fitting and screwing of the joints, and they would have 
 had no impression of the whole until they were tired 
 of looking at the details. 
 
 For hours he laboured with the men, not allowing 
 anything to be done without his supervision, and doing 
 more himself than any of the workmen. He grew hot 
 and interested as the time went on, and he began to 
 doubt whether the work could be finished before sunset. 
 The workmen themselves, who preferred a job of this 
 kind to the regular occupation of the studio, seemed in 
 
210 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, x 
 
 no hurry, though they did what was expected of them 
 quietly and methodically. Each one of them was 
 calculating, as nearly as possible, the length of time 
 needed to drive a screw, to lift a piece into position, to 
 finish off a shank till it fitted closely in the prepared 
 socket. Half an hour wasted by driblets to-day, would 
 ensure them for the morrow the diversion of an hour 
 or two in coming to the church and returning from it. 
 
 From time to time Gianbattista glanced towards 
 the door, and as the hours advanced his look took the 
 same direction more often. At last, as the rays of the 
 evening sun fell through the western window, he heard 
 steps, and was presently rewarded by the appearance 
 of the Signora Pandolfi, followed closely by Lucia. 
 They greeted Gianbattista from a distance, for the 
 church being under repairs was closed to the public, 
 and had not been in use for years, so that the sound 
 of voices did not seem unnatural nor irreverent. 
 
 " It is not finished," said Gianbattista, coming for 
 ward to meet them ; " but you can see what it will be 
 like. Another hour will be enough." 
 
 At that moment Don Paolo suddenly appeared, 
 walking fast up the aisle in pursuit of the two 
 women. They all greeted him with an exclamation 
 of surprise. 
 
 " Eh ! " he exclaimed, " you are astonished to see 
 me ? I was passing and saw you go in, and as I knew 
 
CHAP, x MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 211 
 
 about the grating, I guessed what you came for and 
 followed you. Is Marzio here ? " 
 
 " No," answered Gianbattista. " He said he might 
 perhaps come, but I doubt it. I fancy he wants to be 
 alone." 
 
 " Yes," replied Don Paolo thoughtfully, " I daresay 
 he wants to be alone." 
 
 " He has had a good many emotions to-day," re 
 marked Gianbattista. " We shall see how he will be 
 this evening. Of course, you have heard the news, 
 Don Paolo ? Besides, you see I am at work, so that 
 the first great difference has been settled. Lucia 
 managed it she has an eloquence, that young lady ! 
 She could preach better than you, Don Paolo." 
 
 " She is a little angel," exclaimed the priest, tapping 
 his niece's dark cheek with his white hand. 
 
 " That is four to-day ! " cried Lucia, laughing. " First 
 mamma, then papa figure to yourself papa ! then 
 Tista, and now Uncle Paolo. Eh ! if the wings don't 
 grow before the Ave Maria " 
 
 She broke off with a pretty motion of her shoulders, 
 showing her white teeth and turning to look at Gian 
 battista, Then the young man took them to see the 
 grating. A good portion of it was put up, and it pro 
 duced a good effect. The whole thing was about ten 
 or twelve feet high, consisting of widely-set gilt bare, 
 between which were fastened large arabesques and 
 
212 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, x 
 
 scrolls. On each side of the gate, in the middle, an 
 angel supported a metal drapery, of which the folds 
 were in reality of separate pieces, but which, as it now 
 appeared, all screwed together in its place, had a very 
 free and light effect. It was work of a conventional 
 kind and of a conventional school, but even here 
 Marzio's great talent had shown itself in his rare 
 knowledge of effects and free modelling ; the high 
 lights were carefully chosen and followed out, and the 
 deep shadows of the folds in dull gold gave a richness 
 to the drapery not often found in this species of decora 
 tion. The figures of the angels, too, were done by an 
 artist's hand conventional, like the rest, but free from 
 heaviness or anatomical defects. 
 
 <f It is not bad," said Don Paolo, in a tone which 
 surprised every one. He was not often slow to praise 
 his brother's work. 
 
 " How, not bad ? Is that all you say ? " asked 
 Gianbattista, in considerable astonishment. He felt, 
 too, that as Marzio and he worked together, he deserved 
 some part of the credit. " It is church decoration of 
 course, and not a ' piece,' as we say, but I would like 
 to see anybody do better." 
 
 " Well, well, Tista, forgive me," he answered. " The 
 fact is, Marzio showed me something to-day so wonder 
 ful, that I see no beauty in anything else or, at least s 
 not so much beauty as I ought to see. I went in to 
 
CHAP. * MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 213 
 
 find him again, you know, just as Lucia was leaving, 
 and he showed me a crucifix a marvel, a wonder ! 
 he said he had had it a long time, put away in a box." 
 
 " I never saw it," said Tista. 
 
 " I did ! " exclaimed Lucia. She regretted the words 
 as soon as she had spoken them, and bit her lip. She 
 had not told her mother what she had told Grianbattista. 
 
 " When did you see it ? Is it so very beautiful ?" 
 asked the Signora Pandolfi. 
 
 " Oh, I only saw it through the door, when I went," 
 she answered quickly. " The door was open, but I 
 knocked and I saw him hide it. But I think it was 
 very fine splendid ! What did you talk about, Uncle 
 Paolo ? You have not told us about your visit. I 
 whispered to you that everything was settled, but you 
 looked as though you did not understand. What did 
 you say to each other ?" 
 
 " Oh, nothing nothing of any importance," said 
 Don Paolo in some embarrassment. He suddenly 
 recollected that, owing to his brother's strange conduct, 
 he had left the studio without saying a word about the 
 errand which had brought him. " Nothing," he re 
 peated. " We talked about the crucifix, and Marzio 
 gave a very long explanation of the way it was made. 
 Besides, as Lucia says, she had told me that everything 
 was settled, and Marzio spoke very quietly." 
 
 This was literally true. Marzio's words had been 
 
214 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, x 
 
 gentle enough. It was his action that had at first 
 startled Don Paolo, and had afterwards set him thinking 
 and reflecting on the events of those few minutes. But 
 he would not for anything in the world have allowed 
 any of his three companions to know what had 
 happened. He was himself not sure. Marzio had 
 excused the position of his hand by saying that the 
 sun was in his eyes. There was something else in his 
 eyes, thought Paolo ; a look of hatred and of eager 
 desire for blood which it was horrible to remember. 
 Perhaps he ought not to remember it, for he might be 
 mistaken after all, and it was a great sin to suspect 
 any one of wishing to commit such a crime ; but never 
 theless, and in spite of his desire that it might not 
 have been true, Don Paolo was conscious of having 
 received the impression, and he was sure that it had 
 not been the result of any foolish fright. He was not 
 a cowardly man, and although his physical courage 
 had rarely been put to the test, no one who knew him 
 would have charged him with the contemptible timidity 
 which imagines danger gratuitously, and is afraid 
 where no fear is. He was of a better temper than 
 Marzio, who had been startled so terribly by a slight 
 noise when his back was turned. And yet he had 
 been profoundly affected by the scene of the morning, 
 and had not yet entirely recovered his serenity. 
 
 Lucia noticed the tone of his answer, and suspected 
 
CHAP, x MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 215 
 
 that something had happened, though her suspicion 
 took a direction exactly opposed to the fact. She 
 remembered what she had seen herself, and recalling 
 the fact that Paolo had entered the workshop just as 
 she was leaving it, she saw nothing unnatural in the 
 supposition that her father's conversation with her 
 uncle had taken a religious tone. She used the word 
 religion to express to herself what she meant. She 
 thought it quite possible that after Marzio had been so 
 suddenly softened, and evidently affected, by her own 
 fainting fit, and after having been absorbed in some 
 sort of devotional meditation, he might have spoken of 
 his feelings to Don Paolo, who in his turn would have 
 seized the opportunity for working upon his brother's 
 mind. Paolo, she thought, would naturally not care 
 to speak lightly of such an occurrence, and his some 
 what constrained manner at the present moment might 
 be attributed to this cause. To prevent any further 
 questions from her mother or Gianbattista, Lucia inter 
 posed. 
 
 " Yes," she said, " he seemed very quiet. He hardly 
 spoke at dinner. But Tista says he may perhaps be 
 here before long, and then we shall know." 
 
 It was not very clear what was to be known, and 
 Lucia hastened to direct their attention to the new 
 grating. Gianbattista returned to work with the men, 
 and the two women and Don Paolo stood looking on, 
 
216 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, x 
 
 occasionally shifting their position to get a better view 
 of the work. Gianbattista was mounted upon a ladder 
 which leaned against one of the marble pillars at the 
 entrance of the side chapel closed by the grating. A 
 heavy piece of arabesque work had just been got into 
 its place, and was tied with cords while the young man 
 ran a screw through the prepared holes to fasten one 
 side of the fragment to the bar. He was awkwardly 
 placed, but he had sent the men to uncover and clean 
 the last pieces, at a little distance from where he was 
 at work. The three visitors observed him with interest, 
 probably remarking to themselves that it must need 
 good nerves to maintain one's self in such a position. 
 Don Paolo, especially, was more nervous than the rest, 
 owing, perhaps, to what had occurred in the morning. 
 All at once, as he watched Gianbattista's twisted atti 
 tude, as the apprentice strained himself and turned so 
 as to drive the screw effectually, the foot of the ladder 
 seemed to move a little on the smooth marble pave 
 ment. With a quick movement Don Paolo stepped 
 forward, with the intention of grasping the ladder. 
 
 Hearing the sound of rapid steps, Gianbattista 
 turned his head and a part of his body to see what 
 had happened. The sudden movement shifted the 
 weight, and definitely destroyed the balance of the 
 ladder. With a sharp screech, like that of a bad pencil 
 scratching on a slate, the lower ends of the uprights 
 
OHAP. x MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 21*7 
 
 slipped outward from the pillar. Gianbattista clutched 
 at the metal bars desperately, but the long screw-driver 
 in his hands impeded him, and he missed his hold. 
 
 Don Paolo, the sound of whose step had at first 
 made the young man turn, and had thus probably pre 
 cipitated the accident, sprang forward, threw himself 
 under the falling ladder, and grasped it with all his 
 might. But it was too late. Gianbattista was heavy, 
 and the whole ladder with his weight upon it had 
 gained too much impetus to be easily stopped by one 
 man. With a loud crash he fell with the wooden 
 frame upon the smooth marble floor. Rolling to one 
 side, Gianbattista leapt to his feet, dazed but apparently 
 unhurt. 
 
 The priest lay motionless in a distorted position 
 under the ladder, his head bent almost beneath his 
 body, and one arm projecting upon the pavement, 
 seemingly twisted in its socket, the palm upwards. 
 The long white fingers twitched convulsively once or 
 twice, and then were still. It was all the affair of a 
 moment. Maria Luisa screamed and leaned against 
 the pillar for support, while Lucia ran forward and 
 knelt beside the injured man. Gianbattista, whose life 
 had probably been saved by Don Paolo's quick action, 
 was dragging away the great ladder, and the workmen 
 came running up in confusion to see what had happened. 
 
 It seemed as though Marzio's wish had been accom- 
 
 Yol. 6 J 
 
218 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, x 
 
 plished without his agency. A deadly livid colour 
 overspread the priest's refined features, and as they 
 lifted him his limp limbs hung down as though the 
 vitality would never return to them all except the 
 left arm, which was turned stiffly out and seemed to 
 refuse to hang down with the rest. It was dislocated 
 at the shoulder. 
 
 A scene of indescribable confusion followed, in which 
 Gianbattista alone seemed to maintain some semblance 
 of coolness. The rest all spoke and cried at once. 
 Maria Luisa and Lucia knelt beside the body where 
 they had laid it on the steps of the high altar, crying 
 aloud, kissing the white hands and beating their 
 breasts, praying, sobbing, and calling upon Paolo to 
 speak to them, all in a breath. 
 
 " He is dead as a stone," said one of the workmen 
 in a low voice. 
 
 " Eh ! He is in Paradise," said another, kneeling at 
 the priest's feet and rubbing them. 
 
 " Take him to the hospital, Sor Tista " 
 
 " Better take him home " 
 
 " I will run and call Sor Marzio " 
 
 " There is an apothecary in the next street." 
 " A doctor is better apothecaries are all murderers." 
 Gianbattista, very pale, but collected and steady, 
 pushed the men gently away from the body. 
 
 " Cari miei, my dear fellows," he said, " he may be 
 
CHAP, x MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 219 
 
 alive. One of you run and get a carriage to the side 
 door of the sacristy. The rest of you put the things 
 together and be careful to leave nothing where it can 
 fall. We will take him to Sor Marzio's house and get 
 the best doctor." 
 
 " There is not even a drop of holy water in the 
 basins," moaned Maria Luisa. 
 
 "He will go to Heaven without holy water," ^sobbed 
 Lucia. " Oh, how good he was 
 
 Gianbattista kneeled down in his turn and tried 
 to find the pulse in the poor limp wrist. Then he 
 listened for the heart. He fancied he could hear a 
 faint nutter in the breast. He looked up and a little 
 colo'ur came to his pale face. 
 
 " I think he is alive," he said to the two women, and 
 then bent down again and listened. " Yes," he continued 
 joyfully. " The heart beats. Gently help me to 
 carry him to the sacristy; get his hat one of you. So 
 carefully do not twist that arm. I think I see 
 colour in his cheeks " 
 
 With four other men Gianbattista raised the body 
 and bore it carefully to the sacristy. The cab was 
 already at the door, and in a few minutes poor Don 
 Paolo was placed in it. The hood was raised, and 
 Maria Luisa got in and sat supporting the drooping 
 head upon her broad bosom. Lucia took the little seat 
 in front, and Gianbattista mounted to the box, after 
 
220 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, x 
 
 directing the four men to follow in a second cab as fast 
 as they could, to help to carry the priest upstairs. He 
 sent another in search of a surgeon. 
 
 " Do not tell Sor Marzio do not go to the work 
 shop," he said 'in a last injunction. He knew that 
 Marzio would be of no use in such an emergency, and 
 he hoped that Don Paolo might be pronounced out of 
 danger before the chiseller knew anything of the 
 accident. 
 
 In half an hour the injured man was lying in Gian- 
 battista's bed. It was now evident that lie was alive, 
 for he breathed heavily and regularly. But the half- 
 closed eyes had no intelligence in them, and the slight 
 flush in the hollow cheeks was not natural to see. 
 The twisted arm still stuck out of the bed-coverings 
 in a painfully distorted attitude. The two women and 
 Gianbattista stood by the bedside in silence, waiting for 
 the arrival of the surgeon. 
 
 He came at last, a quiet-looking man of middle age, 
 with grizzled hair and a face deeply pitted with the 
 smallpox. He seemed to know what he was about, 
 for he asked for a detailed account of the accident from 
 Gianbattista while he examined the patient. The young 
 man, who was beginning to feel the effects of the fall, 
 now that the first excitement had subsided, sat down 
 while he told the story. The surgeon urged the two 
 women to leave the room. 
 
CHAP, x MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX 221 
 
 " The left arm is dislocated at the shoulder, without 
 fracture," said the surgeon. " Lend me a hand, will 
 you ? Hold his body firmly here and here with all 
 your might, while I pull the joint into place. If his 
 head or spine are not injured the pain may bring him 
 to consciousness. That will be a good thing. Now, 
 ready one, two, three, pull !" 
 
 The two men gave a vigorous jerk, and to Gianbat- 
 tista's surprise the arm fell back in a natural position, 
 but the injured priest's features expressed no pain. 
 He was evidently quite unconscious. A further ex 
 amination led the surgeon to believe that the harm was 
 more serious. There was a bad bruise on one side of 
 the head, and more than one upon other parts of the 
 body. 
 
 " Will he live ?" asked Gianbattista faintly, as he 
 sank back into his chair. 
 
 " Oh yes probably. He is likely to have a brain 
 fever. One cannot tell. How old is he ?" 
 
 He asked one or two other questions, arranging the 
 patient's position with skilful hands while he talked. 
 Then he asked for paper and wrote a prescription. 
 
 "Nothing more can be done for the present," he 
 said. " You should put some ice on his head, and if 
 he recovers consciousness, so as to speak before I come 
 back, observe what he says. He may be in a delirium, 
 or he may talk quite rationally. One cannot telL 
 
222 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX 
 
 OHAP. X 
 
 Send for this medicine and give it to him if he is 
 conscious. Otherwise, only keep his head cool. I 
 will come back early in the evening. You are not 
 hurt yourself?" he inquired, looking at Gianbattista 
 curiously. 
 
 " No ; I am badly shaken, and my hands are a little 
 cut that is all," answered the young man. 
 
 "What a beautiful thing youth is!" observed the 
 surgeon philosophically, as he went away. 
 
 Gianbattista remained alone in the sick-room, seated 
 upon his chair by the head of the bed. With anxious 
 interest and attention he watched the expressionless 
 face as the heavy breath came and went between the 
 parted lips. In the distance he could hear the sobbing 
 and incoherent talk of the two women, as the doctor 
 explained to them Paolo's condition, but he was now 
 too much dazed to give any thought to them. It 
 seemed to him that Don Paolo had sacrificed his life 
 for him, and that he had no other duty than to sit 
 beside the bed and watch his friend. All the impres 
 sions of the afternoon were very much confused, and 
 the shock of the fall had told upon his nerves far more 
 severely than he had at first realised. His limbs 
 ached and his hands pained him ; at the same time 
 he felt dizzy, and the outline of Don Paolo's face grew 
 indistinct as he watched it. He was roused by the 
 entry of Lucia, who had hastily laid aside her hat. 
 
CHAP, x MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 223 
 
 Her face was pale, and her dark eyes were swollen 
 with tears ; her hair was in disorder and was falling 
 about her neck. Gianbattista instinctively rose and 
 put his arm about the girl's waist as they stood to 
 gether and looked at the sick man. He felt that it 
 was his duty to comfort her. 
 
 " The doctor thinks he may get well," he said. 
 
 " Who knows," she answered tearfully, and shook 
 her head, " Oh, Tista, he was our best friend !" 
 
 " It was in trying to save me " said the young 
 
 fellow. But he got no further. The words stuck in 
 his throat. 
 
 " If he lives I will be a son to him !" he added 
 presently. " I will never leave him. But perhaps 
 perhaps he is too good to live, Lucia !" 
 
 " He must not die. I will take care of him," an 
 swered Lucia. " You must pray for him, Tista, and I 
 will we all will !" 
 
 " Eh ! I will try, but I don't understand that kind 
 of thing as well as you," said Gianbattista dolefully. 
 " If you think it is of any use " 
 
 " Of course it is of use, my heart ; do not doubt it," 
 replied the young girl gravely. Then her features 
 suddenly quivered, she turned away, and, hiding her 
 face on the pillow beside the priest's unconscious 
 head, she sobbed as though her heart would 
 break. Gianbattista knelt down at her side and 
 
224 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, x 
 
 put his arm round her neck, whispering lovingly in 
 her ear. 
 
 The day was fading, and the last glow of the sun in 
 the south-western sky came through the small window 
 at the other end of the narrow room, illuminating the 
 simple furniture, the white bed coverings, the upturned 
 face of the injured man, and the two young figures 
 that knelt at the "bedside. It was Gianbattista's room, 
 and there was little enough in it. The bare bricks, 
 with only a narrow bit of green drugget by the bed, 
 the plain deal table before the window, the tiny round 
 mirror set in lead, at which the apprentice shaved 
 himself, the crazy old chest of drawers that was all 
 The whitewashed walls were relieved by two or three 
 drawings of chalices and other church vessels, the 
 colour of the gold or silver, and of the gems, washed 
 into one half of the design and the other side left in 
 black and white. A little black cross hung above the 
 bedstead, with a bit of an olive branch nailed over it 
 a reminiscence of the last Palm Sunday. There 
 were two nails in another part of the room, on which 
 some old clothes were hung that was all. But the 
 deep light of the failing day shed a peaceful halo over 
 everything, and touched the coarse details of a hard 
 working existence with the divine light of Heaven. 
 
 Lucia's sobbing ceased after a while, and, as the 
 sunset faded into twilight and dusk, the silence grew 
 
CHAP, x MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 225 
 
 more profound ; the sick man's breathing became 
 lighter, as though in his unconsciousness he were 
 beginning to rest after the day in which he had 
 endured so much. From the sitting-room beyond 
 the short passage the sound of Maria Luisa's voice, 
 moaning in concert with old Assunta, gradually 
 diminished till they were heard only at intervals, 
 and at last ceased altogether. The household of Marzio 
 Pandolfi was hushed in the presence of a great sorrow, 
 and awed by the anticipation of a great misfortune. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 MARZIO, in ignorance of all that was happening at the 
 church, continued to work in the solitude of his studio, 
 and the current of his thoughts flowed on in the same 
 channel. He tried to force his attention upon the 
 details of the design he meditated against his brother's 
 life, and for some time he succeeded. But another 
 influence had begun to work upon his brain, since the 
 moment when he had been frightened by the sound 
 behind him while he was examining the hole beneath 
 the strong box. He would not own to himself that 
 such a senseless fear could have produced a permanent 
 impression on him, and yet he felt disturbed and un 
 settled, unaccountably discomposed, and altogether un 
 comfortable. He could not help looking round from 
 time to time at the door, and more than once his eyes 
 rested for several seconds upon the safe, while a slight 
 shiver ran through his body and seemed to chill his 
 fingers. 
 
 But he worked on in spite of all this. The habit of 
 the chisel was not to be destroyed by the fancied scare 
 
CHAP. XI MAEZTO'S CEUCIFIX 22*7 
 
 of a moment, and though his eyes wandered now and 
 then, they came back to the silver statue as keen as 
 ever. A little touch with the steel at one point, a 
 little burnishing at another, the accentuation of a line, 
 the deepening of a shadow he studied every detail 
 with a minute and scrupulous care which betrayed hia 
 love for the work he was doing. 
 
 And yet the uneasiness grew upon him. He felt 
 somehow as though Paolo were present in the room 
 with him, watching him over his shoulder, suggesting 
 improvements to be made, in that voice of his which 
 now rang distinctly in the artist's ear. His imagina 
 tion worked morbidly, and he thought of Paolo stand 
 ing beside him, ordering him to do this or that against 
 his will, until he began to doubt his own judgment in 
 regard to what he was doing. He wondered whether 
 he should feel the same thing when Paolo was dead. 
 Again he looked behind him, and the idea that he was 
 not alone gained force. Nevertheless the room was 
 bright, brighter indeed in the afternoon than it ever 
 was in the morning, for the window was towards the 
 south, and though the first rays of the sun reached it 
 at about eleven in the morning, the buildings after 
 wards darkened it again until the sun was in the west. 
 Moreover to-day, the weather had been changeable, 
 and it had rained a little about noon. Now the air 
 was again clear, and the workshop was lit up so that 
 
228 MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, xr 
 
 the light penetrated even to the ancient cobwebs in 
 the corners, and touched the wax models and casts on 
 the shelves, and gilded the old wood of the door oppo 
 site with rich brown gold. Marzio had a curtain of 
 dusty grey linen which he drew across the lower part 
 of the window to keep the sunshine off his work. 
 
 He was impatient with himself, and annoyed by the 
 persistency of the impression that Paolo was in some 
 way present in the place. As though to escape from 
 it by braving it he set himself resolutely to consider 
 the expediency of destroying his brother. The first 
 quick impulse in the morning had developed to a 
 purpose in the afternoon. He had constructed the 
 probable occurrences out of the materials of his imagin 
 ation, and had done it so vividly as to frighten himself. 
 The fright had in some measure cooled his intention, 
 and had been now replaced by a new element in his 
 thoughts, by the apprehension for the future if the 
 deed were accomplished. He began to speculate upon 
 what would happen afterwards, wondering whether by 
 any means the murder could be discovered, and if in 
 that case it could ever be traced to him. 
 
 At the first faint suggestion that such a thing as he 
 was devising could possibly have another issue than 
 he had supposed, Marzio felt a cold sensation in his 
 heart, and his thoughts took a different direction. It 
 was all simple enough. To get Paolo into the work- 
 
CHAP, xi MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 229 
 
 shop alone a blow the concealment of the dead 
 body until night then the short three hundred yards 
 with the hand-cart it seemed very practicable. Yes, 
 but if by any chance he should meet a policeman under 
 those low trees in the Piazza de' Branca, what would 
 happen ? A man with a hand-cart, and with some 
 thing shapeless upon the hand-cart, in the dark, hurry 
 ing towards the river such a man would excite the 
 suspicions of a policeman. Marzio might be stopped 
 and asked what he was taking away. He would 
 answer what would he answer in such a case ? The 
 hand-cart would be examined and found to contain a ' 
 dead priest. Besides, he reflected that the wheels 
 would make a terrible clatter in the silent streets at 
 night. Of course he might go out and walk down to 
 the river first and see if there was anybody in the way, 
 but even then he could not be sure of finding no one 
 when he returned with his burden. 
 
 But there was the cellar, after all. He could go 
 down in the night and bury his brother's body there. 
 No one ever went down, not even he himself. Who 
 would suspect the place ? It would be a ghastly job, 
 the chiseller thought. He fancied how it would be in 
 the cold, damp vault with a lantern the white face of 
 the murdered man. No, he shrank from thinking of it. 
 It was too horrible to be thought of until it should be 
 absolutely necessary. But the place was a good one. 
 
230 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX OHAP. XI 
 
 And then when Paolo was buried deep under the 
 damp stones, who would be the first to ask for him ? 
 For two or three days no one would be much surprised 
 if he did not come to the house. Marzio would say 
 that he had met him in the street, and that Paolo had ex 
 cused himself for not coming, on the ground of extreme 
 pressure of work. But the Cardinal, whom he served 
 as secretary, would ask for the missing man. He 
 would be the first. The Cardinal would be told that 
 Paolo had not slept at home, in his lodging high up 
 in the old palace, and he would send at once to 
 Marzio's house to know where his secretary was. 
 Well, he might send, Marzio would answer that he did 
 not know, and the matter would end there. 
 
 It would be hard to sit calmly at the bench all day 
 with Gianbattista at his side. He would probably 
 look very often at the iron-bound box. Gianbattista 
 would notice that, and in time he would grow curious, 
 and perhaps explore the cellar. It would be a miser 
 able ending to such a drama to betray himself by his 
 own weakness after it was all done, and Paolo was 
 gone for ever a termination unworthy of Marzio, the 
 strong-minded freethinker. To kill a priest, and then 
 be as nervous and conscious as a boy in a scrape ! 
 The chiseller tried to laugh aloud in his old way, but 
 the effort was ineffectual, and ended in a painful twist 
 ing of the lips, accompanied by a glance at the corner. 
 
CHAP, xr MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 231 
 
 It would not do ; he was weak, and was forced to 
 submit to the humiliation of acknowledging the fact 
 to himself. With a bitter scorn of his incapacity, he 
 began to wonder whether he could ever get so far as 
 to kill Paolo in the first instance. He foresaw that if 
 he did kill him, he could never get rid of him after 
 wards. 
 
 Where do people go when they die ? The question 
 rose suddenly in the mind of the unbeliever, and 
 seemed to demand an answer. He had answered 
 often enough over a pint .of wine at the inn, with 
 Gasparo Carnesecchi the lawyer and the rest of his 
 friends. Nowhere. That was the answer, clear enough. 
 When a man dies he goes to the ground, as a slaughtered 
 ox to the butcher's stall, or a dead horse to the 
 knacker's. That is the end of him, and it is of no use 
 asking any more questions. You might as well ask what 
 becomes of the pins that are lost by myriads of millions, 
 to the weight of many tons in a year. You might as 
 well inquire what becomes of anything that is old, or 
 worn out, or broken. A man is like anything else, 
 an agglomeration of matter, capable of a few more 
 tricks than a monkey, and capable of a few less than 
 a priest. He dies, and is swallowed up by the earth 
 and gives no more trouble. These were the answers 
 Marzio was accustomed to give to the question, 
 " Where do people go to when they die ? " Hitherto 
 
232 MABZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, xi 
 
 they had satisfied him, as they appear to satisfy a very 
 small minority of idiots. 
 
 But what would become of Paolo when Marzio had 
 killed him ? Well, in time his body would become 
 earth, that was all. There was something else, how 
 ever. Marzio was conscious to certainty that Paolo 
 would in some way or other be at his elbow ever 
 afterwards, just as he seemed to feel his presence this 
 afternoon in the workshop. What sort of presence 
 would it be ? Marzio could not tell, but he knew he 
 should feel it. It did not matter whether it were real 
 to others or not, it would be too real to him. He 
 could never get rid of the sensation ; it would haunt 
 him and oppress him for the rest of his life, and he 
 should have no peace. 
 
 How could it, if it were not a real thing ? Even 
 the priests said that the spirits of dead men did not 
 come back to earth ; how much more impossible must 
 it be in Marzio's view, since he denied that man had a 
 soul. It would then only be the effect of his imagina 
 tion recalling constantly the past deed, and a thing 
 which only existed in imagination did not exist at all. 
 If it did not exist, it could not be feared by a sensible 
 man. Consequently there was nothing to fear. 
 
 The conclusion contradicted the given facts from 
 which he had argued, and the chiseller was puzzled. 
 For the first time his method of reasoning did not 
 
CHAP, xi MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 233 
 
 satisfy him, and he tried to find out the cause. Was 
 it, he asked to himself, because there lingered in his 
 mind some early tradition of the wickedness of doing 
 murder ? Since there was no soul, there was no 
 absolute right and wrong, and everything must be 
 decided by the standard of expediency. It was a 
 mistake to allow people to murder each other openly, 
 of course, because people of less intellectual capacity 
 would take upon themselves to judge such cases in 
 their own way. But provided that public morality, the 
 darling of the real freethinker, were not scandalised, 
 there would be no inherent wrong in doing away 
 with Paolo. On the contrary, his death would be a 
 benefit to the community at large, and an advantage 
 to Marzio in particular. Not a pecuniary advantage 
 either, for in Marzio's strange system there would have 
 been an immorality in murdering Paolo for his money 
 if he had ever had any, though it seemed right enough 
 to kill him for an idea. That is, to a great extent, 
 the code of those persons who believe in nothing but 
 what they call great ideas. The individuals who 
 murdered the Czar would doubtless have scrupled to 
 rob a gentleman in the street of ten francs. The same 
 reasoning developed itself in Marzio's brain. If his 
 brother had been rich, it would have been a crime to 
 murder him for his wealth. It was no crime to murder 
 him for an idea. Marzio said to himself that to get 
 
234 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. xi 
 
 rid of Paolo would be to emancipate himself and Iris 
 family from the rule and interference of a priest, and 
 that such a proceeding was only the illustration on 
 a small scale of what he desired for his country; 
 consequently it was just, and therefore it ought to 
 be done. 
 
 Unfortunately for his logic, the continuity of his 
 deductions was blocked by a consideration which he 
 had not anticipated. That consideration could only be 
 described as fear for the future, and it had been forcibly 
 thrust upon him by the fright he had received while 
 he was examining the hole in the floor. In order to 
 neutralise it, Marzio had tried the experiment of 
 braving what he considered to be a momentary terror 
 by obstinately studying the details of the plan he 
 intended to execute. To his surprise he found that he 
 returned to the same conclusion as before. He came 
 back to that unaccountable fear of the future as surely 
 as a body thrown upwards falls again to the earth. 
 He went over it all in his mind again, twice, three 
 times, twenty times. As often as he reached the stage 
 at which he imagined Paolo dead, hidden, and buried 
 in a cellar, the same shiver passed through him as 
 he glanced involuntarily behind him. Why ? What 
 power could a dead body possibly exercise over a living 
 man in the full possession of his senses ? 
 
 Here was something which Marzio could not under- 
 
CHAP. XI MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 235 
 
 stand, but of which he was made aware by his own 
 feelings. The difficulty only increased in magnitude 
 as he faced it, considered it, and tried to view it from all 
 its horrible aspects. But he could not overcome it. 
 He might laugh at the existence of the soul and jest 
 about the future state after death ; he could not escape 
 from the future in this life if he did the deed he con 
 templated. He should see the dead man's face by day 
 and night as long as he lived. 
 
 This forced conclusion was in logical accordance 
 with his original nature and developed character, for 
 it was the result of that economical, cautious disposition 
 which foresees the consequences of action and guides 
 itself accordingly. Even in the moment when he had 
 nearly killed Paolo that morning he had not been free 
 from this tendency. In the instant when he had 
 raised the tool to strike he had thought of the means 
 of disposing of the body and of hindering suspicion. 
 The panorama of coming circumstances had presented 
 itself to his mind with the rapidity of a flash of light 
 ning, but in that infinitesimal duration of time Paolo 
 had turned round, and the opportunity was gone. His 
 mind had worked quickly, but it had not gone to the 
 end of its reasoning. Now in the solitude of his 
 studio he had found leisure to follow out the results 
 to the last link of the chain. He saw clearly that 
 even if he eluded discovery after the crime, lie could 
 
236 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX OHAP. XI 
 
 never escape from the horror of his dead brother's 
 presence. 
 
 He laid the silver figure of the Christ straight 
 before him upon the leathern pad, and looked intently 
 at it, while his hands played idly with the tools upon 
 the table. His deep- set, heavy eyes gazed fixedly at 
 the wonderful face, with an expression which had not 
 yet been there. There was no longer any smile upon 
 his thin lips, and his dark emaciated features were 
 restful and quiet, almost solemn in their repose. 
 
 " I am glad 1 did not do it," he said aloud after 
 some minutes. 
 
 Still he gazed at his work, and the impression stole 
 over him that but for a slight thing he might yet have 
 killed his brother. If he had left the figure more 
 securely prppped upon the pad, it could not have 
 slipped upon the bench ; it could not have made that 
 small distinct sound just as he was examining the 
 place which was to have been his brother's grave ; he 
 would not have been suddenly frightened ; he would 
 not have gone over the matter in his mind as he had 
 done, from the point of view of a future fear; he 
 would have waited anxiously for another opportunity, 
 and when it presented itself he would have struck the 
 blow, and Paolo would have been dead, if not to-day, 
 to-morrow. There would have been a search which 
 might or might not have resulted in the discovery of 
 
CHAP. XI MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 237 
 
 the body. Then there would have been the heart 
 rending grief of his wife, of Lucia, and the black 
 suspicious looks of Gianbattista. The young man had 
 heard him express a wish that Paolo might disappear. 
 His home would have been a hell, instead of being 
 emancipated from tyranny as he had at first imagined. 
 Discovery and conviction would have come at last, the 
 galleys for life for himself, dishonour and contempt for 
 his family. 
 
 He remembered Paolo's words as he stood contem 
 plating the crucifix just before that moment which had 
 nearly been his last. Qui propter nos homines et propter 
 nostrarh salutem "Who for us men and for our sal 
 vation 'Came down from Heaven." In a strange revul 
 sion of feeling Marzio applied the words' to himself, 
 with an odd simplicity that was at once pathetic and 
 startling. 
 
 "If Christ had not died," he said to himself, "I 
 should not have made this crucifix. If I had not 
 made it, it would not have frightened me. I should 
 have killed my brother. It has saved me. ' For us 
 men and for our salvation ' those are the words for 
 my salvation, it is very strange. Poor Paolo 1 If he 
 knew to what he owed his life he would be pleased. 
 Who can believe such things ? Who would have 
 believed this if I had told it ? And yet it is true." 
 
 For some minutes still he gazed at the figure. Then 
 
238 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. XI 
 
 he shook himself as though to rouse his mind from a 
 trance, and took up his tools. He did not glance 
 behind him again, and, for the time at least, his 
 nervous dislike of the box in the corner seemed to 
 have ceased. He laboured with patient care, touching 
 and re-touching, believing that each tap of the hammer 
 should be the last, and yet not wholly satisfied. 
 
 The light waned, and he took down the curtain to 
 admit the last glows of the evening. He could do no 
 more, art itself could have done no more to beautify 
 and perfect the masterpiece that lay upon the cushion 
 before him. The many hours he had spent in putting 
 the last finish upon the work had produced their result. 
 His hand had imparted something to the features of 
 the dying head which had not been there before, and 
 as he stood over the bench he knew that he had sur 
 passed his greatest work. He went and fetched the 
 black cross from the shelf, and polished its smooth 
 surface carefully with a piece of silk. Then he took 
 the figure tenderly in his hands and laid it in its 
 position. The small screws turned evenly in the 
 threads, fitting closely into their well-concealed places, 
 and the work was finished. Marzio placed the whole 
 crucifix upon the bench and sat down to look at it. 
 
 It made a strong impression upon him, this thing of 
 his own hands, and again he remained a long time 
 resting his chin upon his folded fingers and gazing up 
 
CHAP. XI MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 
 
 at the drooping lids. The shadows lay softly on the 
 modelled silver, so softly that the metal itself seemed 
 to tremble and move, and in his reverie Marzio could 
 almost have expected the divine eyes to open and look 
 into his face. And gradually the shadows deepened 
 more and more, and gathered into gloom till in the 
 dark the black arms of the cross scarcely stood out 
 from the darkness, and in the last lingering twilight 
 he could see only the clear outline of the white head 
 and outstretched hands, that seemed to emit a soft 
 radiance gathered from the brightness of the departed 
 day. 
 
 Marzio struck a match and lit his lamp. His 
 thoughts, were so wholly absorbed that he had not 
 remembered the workmen, nor wondered why they 
 had not come back. After all, most of them .lived in 
 the direction of the church, and if they had finished 
 their work late they would very probably go home 
 without returning to the shop. The chiseller wrapped 
 the crucifix in the old white cloth, and laid it in its 
 plain wooden box, but he did not screw the cover 
 down, merely putting it on loosely so that it could be 
 removed in a moment. He laid his tools in order, 
 mechanically, as he did every evening, and then he 
 extinguished the light and made his way to the door, 
 carrying the box under his arm. 
 
 The boy who alone had remained at work had 
 
240 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, xi 
 
 lighted a tallow candle, and was sitting dangling his 
 heels from his stool as Marzio came out. 
 
 " Still here ! " exclaimed the artist. 
 
 " Eh ! You did not tell me to go," answered the 
 lad. 
 
 Marzio locked the heavy outer door and crossed 
 over to his house, while the boy went whistling down 
 the street in the dusk. Slowly the artist mounted the 
 stairs, pondering, as he went, on the many emotions of 
 the day, and at last repeating his conclusion, that he 
 was glad that he had not killed Paolo. 
 
 By a change of feeling which he did not wholly 
 realise, he felt for the first time in many years that he 
 would be glad to see his brother alive and well. He 
 had that day so often fancied him dead, lying on the 
 floor of the workshop, or buried in a dark corner of the 
 cellar, that the idea of meeting him, calm and well as 
 ever, had something refreshing in it. It was like the 
 waking from a hideous dream of evil to find that the 
 harm is still undone, to experience that sense of 
 unutterable relief which every one knows when the 
 dawn suddenly touches the outlines of familiar objects 
 in the room, and dispels in an instant the visions of 
 the night. 
 
 Paolo might not come that evening, but at least 
 Maria Luisa and Lucia would speak of him, and it 
 would be a comfort to hear his name spoken aloud. 
 
CHAP, xi MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 241 
 
 Marzio's step quickened with the thought, and in 
 another moment he was at the door. To his surprise 
 it was opened before he could ring, and old Assunta 
 came forward with her wrinkled fingers raised to her 
 lips. 
 
 " Hist ! hist ! " she whispered. " It goes a little 
 better or at least " 
 
 " What ? Who ? " asked Marzio, instinctively whis 
 pering also. 
 
 " Eh ! You have not heard ? Don Paolo they 
 have killed him ! " 
 
 " Paolo ! " exclaimed Marzio, staggering and leaning 
 against the door-post. 
 
 " He is not dead not dead yet at least," went on 
 the old woman in low, excited tones. "He was in the 
 church with Tista a ladder " 
 
 Marzio did not stop to hear more, but pushed past 
 Assunta with his burden under his arm, and entered 
 the passage. The door at the end was open, and he 
 saw his wife standing in the bright light in the sitting- 
 room, anxiously looking towards him as though she 
 had heard his coming. 
 
 " For God's sake, Gigia," he said, addressing her by 
 her old pet name, " tell me quickly what has hap 
 pened ! " 
 
 The Signora Pandolfi explained as well as she could, 
 frequently giving way to her grief in passionate sobs. 
 Vol. a K 
 
242 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, xi 
 
 She was incoherent, but the facts were so simple that 
 Marzio understood them. He was standing by the 
 table, his hand resting upon the wooden case he had 
 brought, and his face was very pale. 
 
 " Let me understand," he said at last. " Tista was 
 on the ladder. The ladder slipped, Paolo ran to catch 
 it, and it fell on him. He is badly hurt, but not 
 dead ; is that "it, Gigia ? " 
 
 Maria Luisa -nodded in the midst of a fit of weep 
 ing. 
 
 " The surgeon has been, you say ? Yes. And where 
 is Paolo lying ? " 
 
 " In Tista's room," sobbed his wife. " They are with 
 him now." 
 
 Marzio stood still and hesitated. He was under the 
 influence of the most violent emotion, and his face 
 betrayed something of what he felt. The idea of 
 Paolo's death had played a tremendous part in his 
 thoughts during the whole day, and he had firmly 
 believed that he had got rid of that idea, and was to 
 realise in meeting his brother that it had all been a 
 dream. The news he now heard filled him with horror. 
 It seemed as if the intense wish for Paolo's death had 
 in some way produced a material result without his 
 knowledge ; it was as though he had killed his brother 
 by a thought as though he had had a real share in 
 his death. 
 
CHAP, xi MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX 243 
 
 He could hardly bear to go and see the wounded 
 man, so strong was the impression that gained posses 
 sion of him. His fancy called up pictures of Paolo 
 lying wounded in bed, and he dreaded to face the sight. 
 He turned away from the table and began to walk up 
 and down the little room. In a corner his foot struck 
 against something the drawing board on which he 
 had begun to sketch the night before. Marzio took it 
 up and brought it to the light. Maria Luisa stared at 
 him sorrowfully, as though reproaching him with in 
 difference in the general calamity. But Marzio looked 
 intently at the drawing. It was only a sketch, but it 
 was very beautifully done. He saw that his ideal was 
 still the same, and that upon the piece of paper he had 
 only reproduced the features he had chiselled ten years 
 ago, with an added beauty of expression, with just 
 those additions which to-day he had made upon the 
 original. The moment he was sure of the fact he laid 
 aside the board and opened the wooden case. 
 
 Maria Luisa, who was very far from guessing what 
 an intimate connection existed between the crucifix and 
 Paolo in her husband's mind, looked on with increasing 
 astonishment as he took out the beautiful object and 
 set it upon the table in the light. But when she 
 saw it her admiration overcame her sorrow for one 
 moment. 
 
 " Dio mio / What a miracle ! * she exclaimed. 
 
244 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, xi 
 
 " A miracle ? " repeated her husband, with a strange 
 expression. " Who knows ? Perhaps ! " 
 
 At that moment Gianbattista and Lucia entered 
 through the open door, and stood together watching 
 the scene without understanding what was passing. 
 The young girl recognised the crucifix at once. She 
 supposed that her father did not realise Paolo's con 
 dition, and was merely showing the masterpiece to her 
 mother. 
 
 " That is the one I saw," she whispered to Gianbat 
 tista. The young man said nothing, but fixed his eyes 
 upon the cross. 
 
 " Papa," said Lucia timidly, " do you know ? " 
 
 " Yes. Is he alone ? " asked Marzio in a tone which 
 was not like his own. 
 
 " There is Assunta," answered the young girl 
 
 " I will go to him," said the artist, and without 
 further words he lifted the crucifix from the table and 
 went out. His face was very grave, and his features 
 had something in them that none of the three had 
 seen before something almost of grandeur. Gian 
 battista and Lucia followed him. 
 
 " I will be alone with him," said Marzio, looking 
 back at the pair as he reached the door of the sick cham 
 ber. He entered and a moment afterwards old Assunta 
 came out and shuffled away, holding her apron to her 
 eyes. 
 
CHAP. XI MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 245 
 
 Marzio went in. There was a small shaded lamp 
 on the deal table, which illuminated the room with a 
 soft light. Marzio felt that he could not trust himself 
 at first to look at his brother's face. He set the crucifix 
 upon the old chest of drawers, and put the lamp near 
 it. Then he remained standing before it with his back 
 to the bed, and his hands in the pockets of his blouse. 
 He could hear the regular breathing which told that 
 Paolo was still alive. For a long time he could not 
 turn round ; it was as though an unseen power held 
 him motionless in his position. He looked at the 
 crucifix. 
 
 " If he wakes," he thought, " he will see it. It will 
 comfort him if he is going to die ! " 
 
 With his back still turned towards the bed, he 
 moved to one side, until he thought that Paolo could 
 see what he had brought, if consciousness returned. 
 Very slowly, as though fearing some horrible sight, he 
 changed his position and looked timidly in the direc 
 tion of the sick man. At last he saw the pale upturned 
 face, and was amazed that such an accident should have 
 produced so little change in the features. He came 
 and stood beside the bed. 
 
 Paolo had not moved since the surgeon had left ; he 
 was lying on his back, propped by pillows so that his 
 face was towards the light. He was pale now, for the 
 flush that had been in his cheeks had subsided ; his 
 
246 MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, xi 
 
 eyelids, which had been half open, had dropped and 
 closed, so that he seemed to be sleeping peacefully, 
 ready to wake at the slightest sound. 
 
 Marzio stood and looked at him. This was the man 
 he had hated through so many years of boyhood and 
 manhood the man who had faced him and opposed 
 him at every step who had stood up boldly before 
 him in his own house to defend what he believed to be 
 right. This was Paolo, whom he had nearly killed 
 that morning. Marzio's right hand felt the iron tool 
 in the pocket of his blouse, and his fingers trembled as 
 he touched it, while his long arms twitched nervously 
 from the shoulder to the elbow. He took it out, looked 
 at it, and at the sick man's face. He asked himself 
 whether he could think of using it as he had meant to, 
 and then he let it fall upon the bit of green drugget 
 by the bedside. 
 
 That was Paolo it would not need any sharpened 
 weapon to kill him now. A little pressure on the 
 throat, a pillow held over his face for a few moments, 
 and it would all be over. And what for ? To be pur 
 sued for ever by that same white face ? No. It was 
 not worth while, it had never been worth while, even 
 were that all. But there was something else to be 
 considered. Paolo might now die of his accident, in 
 his bed. There would be no murder done in that case, 
 no haunting horror of a presence, no discovery to *>e 
 
CHAP. XI MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 247 
 
 feared, since there would have been no evil. Let him 
 die, if he was dying ! 
 
 But that was not all either. What would it be 
 when Paolo should be dead ? Well, he had his ideas, 
 of course. They were mistaken ideas. Were they ? 
 Perhaps, who could tell ? But he was not a bad man, 
 this Paolo. He had never tried to wring money out of 
 Marzio, as some people did. On the contrary, Marzio 
 still felt a sense of humiliation when he thought how 
 much he owed to the kindness of this man, his brother, 
 lying here injured to death, and powerless to help him 
 self or to save himself. Powerless ? yes utterly so. 
 How ^asy it would be, after all, to press a pillow on 
 the unconscious face. There would probably not even 
 be a struggle. Who should save him, or who could 
 know of it ? And yet Marzio did not want to do it, 
 as he had wished to a few hours ago. As he looked 
 down on the pale head he realised that he did not 
 want Paolo to die. Standing on the sharp edge of the 
 precipice where life ends and breaks off, close upon the 
 unfathomable depths of eternity, himself firmly standing 
 and fearing no fall, but seeing his brother slipping over 
 the brink, he would put out his hand to save him, to 
 draw him back. He would not have Paolo die. 
 
 He gazed upon the calm features, and he knew that 
 he feared lest they should be still for ever. The 
 breath came more softly, more and more faintly, Marzio 
 
248 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, xi 
 
 thought. He bent down low and tried to feel the 
 warm air as it issued from the lips. His fears grew 
 to terror as the life seemed to ebb away from the 
 white face. In the agony of his apprehension, Marzio 
 inadvertently laid his hand upon the injured shoulder, 
 unconsciously pressing his weight upon the place. 
 
 With a faint sigh the priest's eyes opened and 
 seemed to gaze for a moment on the crucifix standing 
 in the bright light of the lamp. An expression of 
 wonderful gentleness and calm overspread the refined 
 features. 
 
 " Qui propter nos Jiomines et propter nostram salutem 
 descendit de coelis" 
 
 The words came faintly from the dying man's lips, 
 the last syllables scarcely audible in the intense still 
 ness. A deathly pallor crept quickly over the smooth 
 forehead and thin cheeks. Marzio looked for one 
 instant more, and then with a loud cry fell upon his 
 knees by the bedside, his long arms extended across 
 his brother's body. The strong hot tears fell upon the 
 bed coverings, and his breast heaved with passionate 
 sobbing. 
 
 He did not see that Paolo opened his eyes at the 
 sound. He did not notice the rush of feet in the 
 passage without, as Maria Luisa and Lucia and Gian- 
 battista ran to the door, followed by old Assunta 
 holding up her apron to her eyes. 
 
CHAP. XI MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 249 
 
 " Courage, Sor Marzio," said Gianbattista, drawing 
 the artist back from the bed. " You will disturb him. 
 Do you not see that he is conscious at last ?" 
 
 Lucia was arranging the pillows under Paolo's head, 
 and Maria Luisa was crying with joy. Marzio sprang 
 to his feet and stared as though he could not believe 
 what he saw. Paolo turned his head and looked 
 kindly at his brother. 
 
 " Courage, Marzio," he said, " I have been asleep, I 
 believe what has happened to me ? Why are you 
 all crying ? " 
 
 Marzio's tears broke out again, mingled with incoher 
 ent words of joy. In his sudden happiness he clasped 
 the two persons nearest to him, and hugged them and 
 kissed them. These two chanced to be Lucia and 
 Gianbattista. Paolo smiled, but the effort of speaking 
 had tired him. 
 
 "Well," said Marzio at last, with a kinder smile 
 than had been on his face for many a day "very 
 well, children. For Paolo's sake you shall have your 
 own way." 
 
 Half an hour later the surgeon made his visit and 
 assured them all that there was no serious injury, nor 
 any further danger to be feared. The patient had 
 been very badly stunned, that was all. Marzio re 
 mained by his brother's side. 
 
 " You see, Tista," said Lucia when they were in the 
 
250 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, xi 
 
 sitting-room, " I was quite right about the crucifix and 
 the rest." 
 
 " Of course," assented the Signora Pandolfi, though 
 she did not understand the allusion in the least. " Of 
 course you are all of you right. But what a day this 
 has been, cari miei ! What a day ! Dear, dear I" 
 She spread out her fat hands upon her knees, looking 
 the picture of solid contentment. 
 
 THE ENT> 
 
ZOROASTER 
 
TO 
 
 I DEDICATE THIS DRAMA 
 
ZOROASTER. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE hall of the banquets was made ready for the 
 feast in the palace of Babylon. That night Belshaz- 
 zar the king would drink wine with a thousand of 
 his lords, and be merry before them ; and everything 
 was made ready. 
 
 From end to end of the mighty nave, the tables of 
 wood, overlaid with gold and silver, stood spread with 
 those things which the heart of man can desire ; with 
 cups of gold and of glass and of jade ; with great 
 dishes heaped high with rare fruits and rarer flowers ; 
 and over all, the last purple rays of the great southern 
 sun came floating through the open colonnades of the 
 porch, glancing on the polished marbles, tingeing with 
 a softer hue the smooth red plaster of the walls, and 
 lingering lovingly on the golden features and the red- 
 gold draperies of the vast statue that sat on high and 
 overlooked the scene. 
 
 On his head the head-dress of thrice royal suprem 
 acy, in his right hand and his left the sceptre of 
 power and the winged wheel of immortality and life, 
 beneath his feet the bowed necks of prostrate cap 
 tives ; so sat the kingly presence of great Nebu- 
 
2 ZOROASTER. 
 
 chadnezzar, as waiting to see what should come to 
 pass upon his son ; and the perfume of the flowers 
 and the fruits and the rich wine came up to his 
 mighty nostrils, and he seemed to smile there in th& 
 evening sunlight, half in satisfaction, half in scorn. 
 
 On each side of the great building, in the aisles 
 and wings, among the polished pillars of marble 
 thronged the serving-men, bearing ever fresh spices 
 and flowers and fruits, wherewith to deck the feast, 
 whispering together in a dozen Indian, Persian and 
 Egyptian dialects, or in the rich speech of those 
 nobler captives whose pale faces and eagle eyes stood 
 forth everywhere in strong contrast with the coarser 
 features and duskier skins of their fellows in servi 
 tude, the race not born to dominate, but born to 
 endure even to the end. These all mingled together 
 in the strange and broken reflections of the evening 
 light, and here and there the purple dye of the sun 
 tinged the white tunic of some poor slave to as fair a 
 colour as a king's son might wear. 
 
 On this side and on that of the tables that were 
 spread for the feast, stood great candlesticks, as tall 
 as the height of two men, tapering from the thickness 
 and heavy carving below to the fineness and delicate 
 tracery above, and bearing upon them cups of bronze, 
 each having its wick steeped in fine oil mixed with 
 wax. Moreover, in the midst of the hall, where the 
 seat of the king was put upon a raised floor, the pil 
 lars stood apart for a space, so that there was a 
 chamber, as it were, from the wall on the right to 
 the wall on the left, roofed with great carved rafters ; 
 and the colour of the walls was red, a deep and 
 
ZOKOASTEB. 3 
 
 glorious red that seemed to make of the smooth 
 plaster a sheet of precious marble. Beyond, beneath 
 the pillars, the panels of the aisles were pictured and 
 made many-coloured with the story of Nebuchadnez 
 zar the king, his conquests and his feasts, his captives 
 and his courtiers, in endless train upon the splendid 
 wall. But where the king should sit in the midst of 
 the hall there were neither pillars nor paintings ; only 
 the broad blaze of the royal colour, rich and even. 
 Beside the table also stood a great lamp, taller and 
 more cunningly wrought than the rest, the foot of 
 rare marble and chiselled bronze and the lamp above 
 of pure gold from southern Ophir. But it was not 
 yet kindled, for the sun was not set and the hour for 
 the feast was not fully come. 
 
 At the upper end of the hall, before the gigantic 
 statue of wrought gold, there was an open space, un 
 encumbered by tables, where the smooth, polished 
 marble floor came to view in all its rich design and 
 colour. Two persons, entering the hall with slow 
 steps, came to this place and stood together, looking 
 up at the face of the golden king. 
 
 Between the two there was the gulf of a lifetime. 
 The one was already beyond the common limit of 
 age, while he who stood beside him was but a fair 
 boy of fourteen summers. 
 
 The old man was erect still, and his snowy hair 
 and beard grew like a lion's mane about his massive 
 brow and masterful face. The deep lines of thought, 
 graven deeper by age, followed the noble shaping of 
 his brows in even course, and his dark eyes still shot 
 fire, as piercing the bleared thickness of time to gaze 
 
4 ZOROASTER. 
 
 boldly on the eternity beyond. His left hand gath- 
 ered the folds of a snow-white robe around him, while 
 in his right he grasped a straight staff of ebony and 
 ivory, of fine workmanship, marvellously polished, 
 whereon were wrought strange sayings in the Israel- 
 itish manner of writing. The old man stood up to 
 his noble height, and looked from the burnished face 
 of the king's image to the eyes of the boy beside him, 
 in silence, as though urging his young companion to 
 speak for him the thoughts that filled the hearts of 
 both. 
 
 The youth spoke not, nor gave any sign, but stood 
 with folded hands and gazed up to the great features 
 of Nebuchadnezzar. 
 
 He was but fourteen years of age, tall and delicately 
 made, full of the promise of a graceful and elastic 
 power, fine of skin, and instinct with the nervous 
 strength of a noble and untainted race. His face 
 was fair and white, tinged with faint colour, and 
 his heavy golden hair fell in long curls upon his 
 shoulders, thick and soft with the silken fineness of 
 early youth. His delicate features were straight and 
 noble, northern rather than Oriental in their type 
 supremely calm and thoughtful, almost god-like in 
 their young restfulness. The deep blue eyes were 
 turned upward with a touch of sadness, but the broad 
 forehead was as marble, and the straight marking of 
 the brows bounded it and divided it from the face. 
 He wore the straight white tunic, edged about with 
 fine embroideries of gold and gathered at the waist 
 with a rich belt, while his legs were covered with 
 wide Persian trousers wrought in many colours of 
 
ZOROASTER. 5 
 
 silk upon fine 'linen. He wore also a small cap of 
 linen, stiffened to a point and worked with a cun 
 ning design in gold and silver. But the old man's 
 head was covered only by the thick masses of his 
 snowy hair, and his wide white mantle hid the details 
 of his dress from view. 
 
 Again he glanced from the statue to his compan 
 ion's eyes, and at last he spoke, in a deep smooth 
 voice, in the Hebrew tongue. 
 
 . "Nebuchadnezzar the king is gathered to his 
 fathers, and his son also, and Nabonnedon Belshazzar 
 reigns in his stead, yet have I endured to this day, 
 in Babylon, these threescore and seven years, since 
 Nebuchadnezzar the king destroyed our place upon 
 the earth and led us away captive. Unto this day, 
 Zoroaster, have I endured, and yet a little longer 
 shall I stand and bear witness for Israel." 
 
 The old man's eyes flashed, and his strong aquiline 
 features assumed an expression of intense vitality 
 and life. Zoroaster turned to him and spoke softly, 
 almost sadly : 
 
 " Say, O Daniel, prophet and priest of the Lord N 
 why does the golden image seem to smile to-day? 
 Are the times accomplished of thy vision which thou 
 sawest in Shushan, in the palace, and is the dead king 
 glad ? I think his face was never so gentle before to 
 look upon, surely he rejoices at the feast, and the 
 countenance of his image is gladdened." 
 
 " Nay, rather then should his face be sorrowful for 
 the destruction of his seed and of his kingdom," 
 answered the prophet somewhat scornfully. " Verily 
 the end is at hand, and the stones of Babylon shall 
 
6 ZOROASTER. 
 
 no longer cry out for the burden of the sins of Bel- 
 shazzar, and the people call upon Bel to restore unto 
 life the King Nebuchadnezzar ; nay, or to send hither 
 a Persian or a Mede to be a just ruler in the land." 
 
 " Hast thou read it in the stars, or have thine eyes 
 seen these things in the visions of the night, my 
 master ? " The boy came nearer to the aged prophet 
 and spoke in low earnest tones. But Daniel only 
 bent his head, till his brow touched his ebony staff, 
 and so he remained, deep in thought. 
 
 " For I also have dreamed," continued Zoroaster, 
 after a short pause, " and my dream took hold of 
 me, and I am sorry and full of great weariness. Now 
 this is the manner of my dreaming." He stopped 
 and glanced down the great nave of the hall through 
 the open porch at the other end. The full glory of 
 the red sun, just touching the western plain, streamed 
 upon his face and made the tables, the preparations 
 and the crowd of busy serving-men look like black 
 shadows between him and the light. But Daniel 
 leaned upon his staff and spoke no word, nor moved 
 from his position. 
 
 " I saw in my dream," said Zoroaster, " and there 
 was darkness ; and upon the winds of the night arose 
 the sound of war, and the cry and the clash of battle, 
 mighty men striving one with another for the mastery 
 and the victory, which should be to the stronger. 
 And I saw again, and behold it was morning, and the 
 people were led away captive, by tens, and by hun 
 dreds, and by thousands, and the maidens also and 
 young women into a far country. And I looked, and 
 the face of one of the maidens was as the face of the 
 
ZOROASTER. 7 
 
 fairest among the daughters of thy people. Then my 
 heart yearned for her, and I would have followed 
 after into the captivity ; but darkness came upon me, 
 and I saw her no more. Therefore am I troubled 
 and go heavily all the day." 
 
 He ceased and the cadence of the boy's voice 
 trembled and was sad. The sun set out of sight be 
 neath the plain, and from far off a great sound of 
 music came in upon the evening breeze. 
 
 Daniel raised his snowy head and gazed keenly on 
 his young companion, and there was disappointment 
 in his look. 
 
 "Wouldst thou be a prophet?" he asked, "thou 
 that dreamest of fair maidens and art disquieted for 
 the love of a woman ? Thinkest thou, boy, that a 
 woman shall help thee when thou art grown to be 
 a man, or that the word of the Lord dwelleth in van 
 ity ? Prophesy, and interpret thy vision, if so be that 
 thou art able to interpret it. Come, let us depart, 
 for the king is at hand, and the night shall be given 
 over for a space to the rioters and the mirth-makers, 
 with whom our portion is not. Verily I also have 
 dreamed a dream. Let us depart." 
 
 The venerable prophet stood up to his height, and 
 grasping his staff in his right hand, began to lead the 
 way from the hall. Zoroaster laid hold of him by 
 the arm, as though entreating him to remain. 
 
 " Speak, master," he cried earnestly, " and declare 
 to me thy dream, and see whether it accords with 
 mine, and whether there shall be darkness and 
 rumour of war in the land." 
 
 But Daniel the prophet would not stay to speak, 
 
8 ZOROASTER. 
 
 but went out of the hall, and Zoroaster the Persian 
 youth went with him, pondering deeply on the pres 
 ent and on the future, and on the nature of the vision 
 he had seen ; and made fearful by the silence of his 
 friend and teacher. 
 
 The darkness fell upon the twilight, and within 
 the hall the lamps and candlesticks were kindled and 
 gave out warm light and rare perfumes. All down 
 the endless rows of tables, the preparations for the 
 feast were ready; and from the gardens without, 
 strains of music came up ever stronger and nearer, 
 so that the winged sounds seemed to come into the 
 vast building and hover above the tables and seats of 
 honour, preparing the way for the guests. Nearer 
 and nearer came the harps and the pipes and the 
 trumpets and the heavy reed-toned bagpipes, and 
 above all the strong rich chorus of the singers chant 
 ing high the evening hymn of praise to Bel, god of 
 sunlight, honoured in his departing, as in his com 
 ing, with the music of the youngest and most tuneful 
 voices in Shinar. 
 
 First came the priests of Bel, two and two, robed 
 in their white tunics, loose white garments on their 
 legs, the white mitre of the priestly order on their 
 heads, and their great beards curled smooth and 
 glossy as silk. In their midst, with stately dignity, 
 walked their chief, his eyes upon the ground, his 
 hands crossed upon his breast, his face like dark mar 
 ble in the twilight. On either side, those who had 
 officiated at the sacrifice, bore the implements of their 
 service, the knife, the axe, the cord, and the fire in 
 its dish ; and their hands were red with the blood of 
 
ZOROASTER. 9 
 
 the victim lately slain. Grand, great men, mighty of 
 body and broad of brow, were these priests of Bel, 
 strong with the meat and the wine of the offerings 
 that were their daily portion, and confident in the 
 faith of their ancient wisdom. 
 
 After the priests the musicians, one hundred chosen 
 men of skill, making strange deep harmonies in a 
 noble and measured rhythm, marching ten and ten 
 abreast, in ten ranks ; and as they came on, the light 
 streaming from the porch of the palace caught their 
 silver ornaments and the strange shapes of their in 
 struments in broken reflections between the twilight 
 and the glare of the lamps. 
 
 Behind these came the singers, of young boys 
 two hundred, of youths a hundred, and of bearded 
 men also a hundred; the most famous of all that 
 sang praises to Bel in the land of Assur. Ten and 
 ten they marched, with ordered ranks and step in 
 time to the massive beat of the long-drawn measure. 
 
 u Mighty to rule the day, great in his glory and the 
 
 pride of his heat, 
 Shooting great bolts of light into the dark earth, 
 
 turning death into life, 
 Making the seed to grow, strongly and fairly, high 
 
 in furrow and field, 
 
 Making the heart of man glad with his gladness, 
 rideth over the dawn 
 
 Bel, the prince, the king of kings. 
 
 "Hotly his flaming hair, streaming with brightness^ 
 and the locks of his beard 
 
10 ZOKOASTER. 
 
 CurVd into clouds of heat, sweeping the heavens, 
 
 spread all over the sky : 
 Who shall abide his face, fearful and deadly, when 
 
 he devours the land, 
 Angry with man and beast, horribly raging, hungry 
 
 for sacrifice? 
 
 Bel, the prince, the king of kings. 
 
 *' Striding his three great strides, out of the morning 
 
 through the noon to the night, 
 Cometh he down at last, ready for feasting, ready 
 
 for sacrifice : 
 Then doth he tread the wine, purple and golden, 
 
 foaming deep in the west ; 
 
 Shinar is spread for him, spread as a table, Assur 
 shall be his seat : 
 
 Bel* the prince, the king of kings. 
 
 " Bring him the fresh-slain flesh, roast it with fire, 
 
 with the savour of salt, 
 Pour him the strength of wine, chalice and goblet, 
 
 trodden for him alone : 
 liaise him the song of songs, cry out in praises, cry 
 
 out and supplicate 
 
 That he may drink delight, tasting our offering, hear 
 ing our evening song : 
 
 Bel, the prince, the king of kings. 
 
 " So, in the gentle night, when he is resting, peace 
 
 descendeth on earth ; 
 
 High in the firmament, where his steps led him, 
 gleam the tracks of his way : 
 
ZOROASTER. 11 
 
 Where the day felt his touch, there the night also 
 
 breaketh forth into stars, 
 These are the flowers of heaven, garlands of blossoms^ 
 
 growing to weave his crown : 
 
 Bel, the prince, the king of kings. 
 
 "Hail! thou king of the earth, hail! Belteshazzar, 
 
 hail! and for ever live! 
 Born of the gods on high, prince of the nations, 
 
 ruling over the world : 
 Thou art the son of Bel, full of his glory, king over 
 
 death and life ; 
 
 Let all the people bow, tremble and worship, bow 
 them down and adore 
 
 The prince of Bel, the king of kings." 
 
 As the musicians played and the singers sang, they 
 divided their ranks and came and stood on each side 
 of the broad marble staircase ; and the priests had 
 done so before them, but the chief priest stood alone 
 on the lowest step. 
 
 Then, between the files of those who stood, ad 
 vanced the royal procession, like a river of gold and 
 purple and precious stones flowing between banks of 
 pure white. Ten and ten, a thousand lords of Baby 
 lon marched in stately throng, and in their midst rode 
 Belshazzar the king, high upon his coal-black steed, 
 crowned with the great tiara of white, linen and gold 
 and jewels, the golden sceptre of the kingdom in his 
 right hand. And after the lords and the king came 
 a long procession of litters borne by stalwart slaves, 
 
 wherein reclined the fairest women of all Assyria, 
 "Vol.6 L 
 
12 ZOROASTER. 
 
 bidden to the great feast. Last of all, the spearmen 
 of the guard in armour all chased with gold, their 
 mantles embroidered with the royal cognisance, and 
 their beards trimmed and curled in the close soldier 
 fashion, brought up the rear ; a goodly company of 
 men of war. 
 
 As the rich voices of the singers intoned the grand 
 plain chant of the last stanza in the hymn, the king 
 was in the middle of the open space at the foot of the 
 staircase ; there he drew rein and sat motionless on 
 his horse, awaiting the end. As the ripe corn bends 
 in its furrows to the wind, so the royal host around 
 turned to the monarch, and fell upon their faces as 
 the music died away at the signal of the high priest. 
 With one consent the lords, the priests, the singers 
 and the spearmen bowed and prostrated themselves on 
 the ground ; the bearers of the litters set down their 
 burden while they did homage ; and each of those 
 beautiful women bent far forward, kneeling in her 
 litter, and hid her head beneath her veil. 
 
 Only the king sat erect and motionless upon his 
 steed, in the midst of the adoring throng. The light 
 from the palace played strangely on his face, making 
 the sneering smile more scornful upon his pale lips, 
 and shading his sunken eyes with a darker shadow. 
 
 While you might count a score there was silence, 
 and the faint evening breeze wafted the sweet smell 
 of the roses from the gardens to the king's nostrils, as 
 though even the earth would bring incense of adora 
 tion to acknowledge his tremendous power. 
 
 Then the host rose again and fell back on either 
 side while the king rode to the staircase and dis= 
 
ZOROASTER. 13 
 
 mounted, leading the way to the banquet; and the 
 high priest followed him and all the ranks of the 
 lords and princes and the ladies of Babylon, in their 
 beauty and magnificence, went up the marble steps 
 and under the marble porch, spreading then like a 
 river, about the endless tables, almost to the feet of 
 the golden image of Nebuchadnezzar. And presently, 
 from beneath the colonnades a sound of sweet music 
 stole out again and filled the air; the serving-men 
 hurried hither and thither, the black slaves plied their 
 palm-leaf fans behind each guest, and the banquet 
 was begun. 
 
 Surely, a most glorious feast, wherein the hearts of 
 the courtiers waxed meriy, and the dark eyes of the 
 Assyrian women shot glances sweeter than the sweet 
 meats of Egypt and stronger than the 'wine of the 
 south to move the spirit of man. Even the dark king, 
 wasted and hollow-eyed with too much pleasure-seek 
 ing, smiled and laughed, sourly enough at first, it 
 is true, but in time growing careless and merry by 
 reason of his deep draughts. His hand trembled less 
 weakly as the wine gave him back his lost strength, 
 and more than once his fingers toyed playfully with 
 the raven locks and the heavy earrings of the mag 
 nificent princess at his elbow. Some word of hers 
 roused a thought in his whirling brain. 
 
 "Is not this day the feast of victories?" he cried 
 in sudden animation ; and there was silence to catch 
 the king's words. "Is not this the day wherein 
 my sire brought home the wealth of the Israelites, 
 kept holy with feasting for ever? Bring me the 
 vessels of the unbelievers' temple, that I may drink 
 
14 ZOROASTER. 
 
 and pour out wine this night to Bel, the god of 
 gods!" 
 
 The keeper of the treasure had anticipated the 
 king's desire and had caused everything to be made 
 ready; for scarcely had Belshazzar spoken when a 
 long train of serving-men entered the hall of the 
 banquet and came and stood before the royal pres 
 ence, their white garments and the rich vessels they 
 bore aloft standing vividly out against the deep even 
 red of the opposite wall. 
 
 "Let the vessels be distributed among us," cried 
 the king* " to every man a cup or a goblet till all 
 are served." 
 
 And so it was done, and the royal cup-bearer came 
 and filled the huge chalice that the king held, and 
 the serving-men hastened to fill all the cups and the 
 small basins ; while the lords and princes laughed at 
 the strange shapes, and eyed greedily enough the 
 thickness and the good workmanship of the gold 
 and silver. And so each man and each woman 
 had a vessel from the temple of Jerusalem wherein 
 to drink to the glory of Bel the god and of Bel 
 shazzar his prince. And when all was ready, the 
 king took his chalice in his two hands and stood 
 up, and all that company of courtiers stood up with 
 him, while a mighty strain of music burst through 
 the perfumed air, and the serving-men showered 
 flowers and sprinkled sweet odours on the tables. 
 
 Without stood the Angel of Death, whetting his 
 sword upon the stones of Babylon. But Belshazzar 
 held the chalice and spoke with a loud voice to the 
 princes and the lords and the fair women that stood 
 about the tables in the great hall : 
 
ZOROASTER. 15 
 
 " I, Belshazzar the king, standing in the hall of my 
 fathers, do pour and drink this wine to the mighty 
 majesty of Bel the great god, who lives for ever and 
 ever ; before whom the gods of the north and of the 
 west and of the east and of the south are as the sand 
 of the desert in the blast; at whose sight the vain 
 deities of Egypt crumbled into pieces, and the God of 
 the Israelites trembled and was made little in the 
 days of Nebuchadnezzar my sire. And I command 
 you, lords and princes of Babylon, you and your wives 
 and your fair women, that ye also do pour wine and 
 drink it, doing this homage to Bel our god, and to me, 
 Belshazzar the king." 
 
 And so saying, he turned about to one side and 
 spilled a few drops of wine upon the marble floor, and 
 set the cup to his lips, facing the great throng of his 
 guests ; and he drank. But from all the banquet 
 went up a great shout. 
 
 " Hail ! king, live for ever ! Hail ! prince of Bel, 
 live for ever ! Hail ! king of kings, live for ever ! " 
 Long and loud was the cry, ringing and surging through 
 the pillars and up to the great carved rafters till the 
 very walls seemed to rock and tremble with the din 
 of the king's praise. 
 
 Slowly Belshazzar drained the cup to the dregs, 
 while with half-closed eyes he listened to the uproar, 
 and perhaps sneered to himself behind the chalice, as 
 was his wont. Then he set the vessel down and 
 looked up. But as he looked he staggered and turned 
 pale, and would have fallen ; he grasped, the ivory 
 chair behind him and stood trembling in every joint, 
 and his knees knocking together, while his eyes 
 
16 ZOROASTER. 
 
 seemed starting from his head, and all his face was 
 changed and distorted with dreadful fear. 
 
 Upon the red plaster of the wall, over against the 
 candlestick which shed its strong rays upon the fear 
 ful sight, the fingers of a vast hand moved and traced 
 letters. Only the fingers could be seen, colossal and 
 of dazzling brightness, and as they slowly did their 
 work, huge characters of fire blazed out upon the dark 
 red surface, and their lambent angry flame dazzled 
 those who beheld, and the terror of terrors fell upon 
 all the great throng ; for they stood before Him whose 
 shadow is immortality and death. 
 
 In a silence that could be felt, the dread hand com 
 pleted its message and vanished out of sight, but the 
 strange fire burned bright in the horrid characters of 
 the writing that remained upon the wall. 
 
 This was the inscription in Chaldean letters : 
 
 SUTMM 
 
 IPKNN 
 
 NRLAA 
 
 Then at last the king found speech and shrieked 
 aloud wildly, and he commanded that they should 
 bring in all the astrologers, the Chaldeans and the 
 diviners, for he was in great terror and he dreaded 
 some fearful and imminent catastrophe. 
 
 "Whoever shall read this writing," he cried, his 
 voice changed and broken, "and declare to me the 
 meaning of it, shall be clothed in purple, and shall 
 have a chain of gold about his neck and shall rule as 
 the third in the kingdom." 
 
 Amidst the mighty confusion of fear, the wise men 
 were brought in before the king. 
 
ZOROASTER. 17 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 IN Ecbatana of Media Daniel dwelt in his extreme 
 old age. There he built himself a tower within the 
 seven-fold walls of the royal fortress, upon the sum 
 mit of the hill, looking northward towards the forests 
 of the mountains, and southward over the plain, and 
 eastward to the river, and westward to Mount Zagros. 
 His life was spent, and he was well-nigh a hundred 
 years old. Seventeen years had passed since he had 
 interpreted the fatal writing on the wall of the ban 
 quet-hall in Babylon in the night when Nabonnedon 
 Belshazzar was slain, and the kingdom of the Assyr 
 ians destroyed for ever. Again and again invested 
 with power and with the governorship of provinces, 
 he had toiled unceasingly in the reigns of Cyrus and 
 Cambyses, and though he was on the very boundary 
 of possible lifetime, his brain was unclouded, and his 
 eye keen and undimmed still. Only his grand figure 
 was more bent and his step slower than before. 
 
 He dwelt in Ecbatana of the north, in the tower he 
 had built for himself. 1 In the midst of the royal 
 palaces of the stronghold he had laid the foundations 
 duly to the north and south, and story upon story had 
 risen, row upon row of columns, balcony upon balcony 
 of black marble, sculptured richly from basement to 
 turret, and so smooth and hard, that its polished 
 
 1 Josephus, Antiquities of the Jews, book x. chap. xi. 7. 
 
18 ZOROASTER. 
 
 corners and sides and ornaments glittered like black 
 diamonds in the hot sun of the noonday, and cast 
 back the moonbeams at night in a darkly brilliant 
 reflection. 
 
 Far down below, in the gorgeous dwellings that 
 filled the interior of the fortress, dwelt the kinsfolk 
 oi the aged prophet, and the families of the two 
 Levites who had remained with Daniel and had 
 chosen to follow him to his new home in Media 
 rather than to return to Jerusalem under Zerubbabel, 
 when Cyrus issued the writ for the rebuilding of the 
 temple. There lived also in the palace Zoroaster, 
 the Persian prince, being now in the thirty-first year 
 of his age, and captain of the city and of the strong 
 hold. And there, too, surrounded by her handmaid 
 ens and slaves, in a wing of the palace apart from the 
 rest, and more beautiml for its gardens and marvel 
 lous adornment, lived Nehushta, the last of the de 
 scendants of Jehoiakim the king remaining in Media ; 
 she was the fairest of all the women in Media, of 
 royal blood and of more than royal beauty. 
 
 She was born in that year when Babylon was over 
 thrown, and Daniel had brought her with him to 
 Shushan when he had quitted Assyria, and thence to 
 Ecbatana. In the care of the prophet's kinswomen 
 the little maid had thriven and grown fair in the 
 stranger's land. Her soft child's eyes had lost their 
 wondering look and had turned very proud and dark, 
 and the long black lashes that fringed the heavy lids 
 drooped to her cheek when she looked down. Her 
 features were noble and almost straight in outline, 
 but in the slight bend at the beginning of the nose, 
 
ZOROASTER. 19 
 
 in the wide curved nostrils, the strong full lips, and 
 in the pale olive skin, where the blood ebbed and 
 flowed so generously, the signs of the Jewish race 
 were all present and unmistakable. 
 
 Nehushta, the high-born lady of Judah, was a prin 
 cess in every movement, in every action, in every 
 word she uttered. The turn of her proud head was 
 sovereign in its expression of approval or contempt, 
 and Zoroaster himself bowed to the simple gesture ol 
 her hand as obediently as he would have done before 
 the Great King in all his glory. Even the venerable 
 prophet, sitting in his loity tower high above the city 
 and the fortress, absorbed in the contemplation of 
 that other life which was so very near to him, smiled 
 tenderly and stretched out his old hands to greet 
 Nehushta when she mounted to his chamber at sun 
 set, attended by her maidens and her slaves. She 
 was the youngest of all his kinsfolk fatherless and 
 motherless, the last direct, descendant of King Jehoi- 
 akim remaining in Media, and the aged prophet and 
 governor cherished her and loved her for her royalty, 
 as well as for her beauty and her kinship to himself. 
 Assyrian in his education, Persian in his adherence 
 to the conquering dynasty and in his long and faith 
 ful service of the Persians, Daniel was yet in his 
 heart, as in his belief, c, true son of Judah ; proud of 
 his race and tender of its young branches, as though 
 he were himself the father of his country and the 
 king of his people. 
 
 The last red glow of the departed day faded and 
 sank above the black Zagros mountains to westward. 
 The opposite sky was cold and gray, and all the 
 
20 ZOROASTER. 
 
 green plain turned to a dull soft hue as the twilight 
 crept over it, ever darker and more misty. In the 
 gardens of the palace the birds in thousands sang 
 together in chorus, as only Eastern birds do sing at 
 sunrise and at nightfall, and their voices sounded 
 like one strong, sweet, high chord, unbroken and 
 drawn out. 
 
 Nehushta wandered in the broad paths alone. The 
 dry warm air of the summer's evening had no chill in 
 it, and though a fine woven mantle of purple from 
 Srinagur hung loosely from her shoulders, she needed 
 not to draw it about her. The delicate folds of her 
 upper tunic fell closely around her to her knees, and 
 were gathered at the waist by a magnificent belt of 
 wrought gold and pearls ; the long sleeves, drawn in 
 at the wrist by clasps of pearls, almost covered her 
 slender hands ; and as she walked her delicate feet 
 moved daintily in rich embroidered sandals with high 
 golden heels, below the folds of the wide trousers of 
 white and gold embroidery, gathered in at the ankle. 
 Upon her head the stiff linen tiara of spotless white 
 eat proudly as a royal crown, the folds of it held by 
 a single pearl of price, and from beneath it her mag 
 nificent hair rolled down below her waist in dark 
 smooth waves. 
 
 There was a terrace that looked eastward from the 
 gardens. Thither Nehushta bent her steps, slowly, 
 as though in deep thought, and when she reached the 
 smooth marble balustrade, she leaned over it and let 
 her dark eyes rest on the quiet landscape. The peace 
 of the evening descended upon her ; the birds of the 
 day ceased singing with the growing darkness ; and 
 
ZOROASTER. 21 
 
 slowly, out of the plain, the yellow moon soared up 
 and touched the river and the meadows with mystic 
 light ; while far off, in the rose-thickets of the gar 
 dens, the first notes of a single nightingale floated 
 upon the scented breeze, swelling and trilling, quiver 
 ing and falling again, in a glory of angelic song.- 
 The faint air fanned her cheek, the odours of the box 
 and the myrtle and the roses intoxicated her senses, 
 and as the splendid shield of the rising moon cast its 
 broad light into her dreaming eyes, her heart over 
 flowed, and Nehushta the princess lifted up her voice 
 and sang an ancient song of love, in the tongue of 
 her people, to a soft minor melody, that sounded like 
 a sigh from the southern desert. 
 
 " Come unto me, my beloved, in the warmth of the 
 
 darkness, come 
 
 Rise, and hasten thy footsteps^ to be with me at 
 night-time, come! 
 
 41 1 wait in the darkness for him, and the sand oj 
 
 the desert whirling 
 
 Is blown at the door of my tent which is open 
 toward the desert. 
 
 ' My ear in the darkness listeth for the sound of 
 
 his coming nearer, 
 
 Mine eyes watch for him and rest not, for I would 
 not he found me sleeping. 
 
 "For when my beloved cometh, he is like the beam 
 of the morning ; l 
 
 1 "Thou art to me as the beam of the east rising in a strange 
 land." Ossio,n. * 
 
22 ZOROASTEK. 
 
 Ev*n as the dawn in a strange land to the sight of 
 a man journeying. 
 
 " Yea, when my beloved cometh, as dew that descend- 
 
 eth^rom heaven, 
 
 No man can hear when it falleth, but as rain it 
 refresheth all things. 
 
 " In his hand bringeth he lilies, in his right hand 
 
 are many flowers, 
 
 Roses hath he on his forehead, he is crowned with 
 roses from Shinar. 
 
 " The night-winds make sweet songs for him, even in 
 
 the darkness soft music ; 
 
 Whithersoever he goeth, there his sweetness goeth 
 before him." 
 
 Her young voice died away in a soft murmuring 
 cadence, and the nightingale alone poured out her 
 heartful of love to the ancient moon. But as Ne- 
 hushta rested immovable by the marble balustrade 
 of the terrace, there was ;* rustle among the myrtles 
 and a quick step ^n the pavement. The dark maiden 
 started at the sound, and a happy smile parted her 
 lips. But she did not turn to look ; only her hand 
 stole out behind her on the marble where she knew 
 her lover's would meet it. There was in the move 
 ment all the certainty of conquest and yet all the 
 tenderness of love. The Persian trod quickly and 
 laid his hand on hers, and bent to her, trying to meet 
 her eyes : for one moment still she gazed out straight 
 before her, then turned and faced him suddenly, as 
 
ZOROASTER. 23 
 
 though she had withheld her welcome as long as she 
 could and then given it all a - i once. 
 
 " I did not call you," she said, covering him with 
 her eyes in the moonlight, but making as though she 
 would withdraw herself a little from him, as he drew 
 her with his hand, and with his arm, and with his 
 eyes. 
 
 " And yet I heard you call me, my beloved," an 
 swered Zoroaster. " I heard your voice singing very 
 sweet things in your own language and so I came, 
 for you did call me." 
 
 "But did you pride yourself it was for you?" 
 laughed Nehushta. " I sang of the desert, and of 
 tents, and of whirling sand there is none of these 
 things here." 
 
 " You said that your beloved brought roses in his 
 hand and so I do. I will crown you with them. 
 May I ? No I shall spoil your head-dress. Take 
 them and do as you will with them." 
 
 " I will take them and I always do as I will." 
 
 " Then will to take the giver also," answered Zoro 
 aster, letting his arm steal about her, as he half sat 
 upon the balustrade. Nehushta looked at him again, 
 for he was good to see, and perhaps she loved his 
 straight calm features the better in that his face was 
 fair, and not dark like hers. 
 
 "Methinks I have taken the giver already," she 
 answered. 
 
 " Not yet not all," said Zoroaster in a low voice, 
 and a shadow of sadness crossed his noble face that 
 looked white in the moonlight. Nehushta sighed 
 softly and presently she laid her cheek upon his 
 
24 ZOEOASTEB. 
 
 shoulder where the folding of his purple mantle 
 made a pillow between her face and the polished 
 golden scales of his breastplate. 
 
 "I have strange news to tell you, beloved," said 
 Zoroaster presently. Nehushta started and looked 
 up, for his voice was sad. " Nay, fear not ! " he 
 continued, " there is no harm in it, I trust ; but there 
 are great changes in the kingdom, and there will be 
 greater changes yet. The seven princes have slain 
 Smerdis in Shushan, and Darius is chosen king, the 
 son of Gushtasp, whom the Greeks call Hystaspes." 
 
 " He who camo hither last year ? v asked Nehushta 
 quickly. " He is not fair, this new king." 
 
 " Not fair," replied the Persian, " but a brave man 
 and a good. He has, moreover, sent for me to go to 
 Shushan " 
 
 " For you ! " cried Nehushta, suddenly laying her 
 two hands on Zoroaster's shoulders and gazing into 
 his eyes. His face was to the moonlight, while hers 
 was in the dark, and she could see every shade of 
 expression. He smiled. "You laugh at me!" she 
 cried indignantly. " You mock me you are going 
 away and you are glad ! " 
 
 She would have turned away from him, but he held 
 her two hands. 
 
 "Not alone," he answered. " The Great King ha* 
 sent an order that I shall bring to Shushan the kins 
 folk of Jehoiakim, saving only Daniel, our master, for 
 he is so old that he cannot perform the journey. The 
 king would honour the royal seed of Judah, and to 
 that end he sends for you, most noble and most beloved 
 princess." 
 
ZOROASTER. 25 
 
 Nehushta was silent and thoughtful; her hand 
 slipped from Zoroaster's grasp, and her eyes looked 
 dreamily out at the river, on which the beams of the 
 now fully-risen moon glanced, as on the scales of a 
 silver serpent. 
 
 "Are you glad, my beloved?" asked Zoroaster. 
 He stood with his back to the balustrade, leaning on 
 one elbow, and his right hand played carelessly with 
 the heavy gold tassels of his cloak. He had come up 
 from the fortress in his armour, as he was, to bring 
 the news to Nehushta and to Daniel ; his gilded har 
 ness was on his back, half-hidden by the ample purple 
 cloak, his sword was by his side, and on his head he 
 wore the pointed helmet, richly inlaid with gold, bear 
 ing in front the winged wheel which the sovereigns 
 of the Persian empire had assumed after the conquest 
 of Assyria. His very tall and graceful body seemed 
 planned to combine the greatest possible strength with 
 the most surpassing activity, and in his whole presence 
 there breathed the consciousness of ready and cystic 
 power, the graceful elasticity of a steel bow always 
 bent, the inexpressible ease of motion and the match 
 less swiftness that men had when the world was young 
 that wholeness of harmonious proportion which alone 
 makes rest graceful, and the inactivity of idleness itself 
 like a mode of perfect motion. As they stood there 
 together, the princess of Judah and the noble Persian, 
 they were wholly beautiful and yet wholly contrasted 
 the Semite and the Aryan, the dark race of the 
 south, on which the hot air of the desert had breathed 
 for generations in the bondage of Egypt, and left its 
 warm sign-manual of southern sunshine, and the 
 
26 ZOROASTER. 
 
 fair man of the people whose faces were already set 
 northwards, on whom the north breathed already 
 its icy fairness, and magnificent coldness of steely 
 strength. 
 
 "Are you glad, my beloved?" asked Zoroaster 
 again, looking up and laying his right hand on the 
 princess's arm. She had given no answer to his ques 
 tion, but only gazed dreamily out over the river. 
 
 She seemed about to speak, then paused again, then 
 hesitated and answered his question by another. 
 
 " Zoroaster you love me," again she paused, and, 
 as he passionately seized her hands and pressed his 
 lips to them, she said softly, turning her head away, 
 "What is love?" 
 
 He, too, waited one moment before he answered, 
 and, standing to his lordly height, took her head be 
 tween his hands and pressed it to his breast ; then, 
 with one arm around her, he stood looking eastward 
 and spoke : 
 
 " Listen, my beloved, and I, who love you, will tell 
 you what love is. In the far-off dawn of the soul- 
 liTt,, in the ethereal distance of the outer firmament, 
 in the mist of the star-dust, our spirits were quick 
 ened with the spirit of God, and found one another, 
 and met. Before earth was for us, we were one; 
 before time was for us, we were one even as we 
 shall be one when there is no time for us any more. 
 Then Ahura Mazda, the all-wise God, took our two 
 souls from among the stars, and set them in the 
 earth, clothed for a time with mortal bodies. But 
 we know each other, that we were together from the 
 first, although these earthly things obscure our im- 
 
ZOROASTER. 27 
 
 mortal vision, and we see each other less clearly. 
 Yet is our love none the less rather, it seems every 
 day greater, for our bodies can feel joy and sorrow, 
 even as our spirits do ; so that I am able to suffer 
 for you, in which I rejoice, and I would that I might 
 be chosen to lay down my life for you, that you 
 might know how I love you ; for often you doubt 
 me, and sometimes you doubt yourself. There 
 should be no doubt in love. Love is from the first, 
 and will be to the end, and beyond the end ; love is 
 so eternal, so great, so whole, that this mortal life of 
 ours is but as a tiny instant, a moment of pausing in 
 our journey from one star-world to another along the 
 endless paths of heavenly glory we shall tread to 
 gether- -.-> it if; nothing, this worldly life of ours. 
 Before it shall seem long that we have loved, this 
 earth we stand on, these things we touch, these 
 bodies of ours that we think so strong and fair, will 
 be forgotten and dissolved into their elements in the 
 trackless and undiscoverable waste of past mortality, 
 while we ourselves are ever young, and ever fair, 
 and for ever living in our immortal love." 
 
 Nehushta looked up wonderingly into her lover's 
 eyes, then let her head rest on his shoulder. The 
 high daring of his thoughts seemed ever trying to 
 scale heaven itself, seeking to draw her to some won 
 drous region of mystic beauty and strange spirit life. 
 She was awed for a moment, then she, too, spoke in 
 her own fashion. 
 
 " I love life," she said, " I love you because you 
 live, not because you are a spirit chained and tied 
 down for a time. I love this soft sweet earth, the 
 
28 ZOROASTER. 
 
 dawn of it, and the twilight of it ; I love the sun in 
 his rising and in his setting ; I love the moon in her 
 fulness and in her waning ; I love the smell of the 
 box and of the myrtle, of the roses and of the violets ; 
 I love the glorious light of day, the splendour of heat 
 and greenness, the song of the birds of the air and 
 the song of the labourer in the field, the hum of the 
 locust, and the soft buzzing of the bee; I love the 
 brightness of gold and the richness of fine purple, the 
 tramp of your splendid guards and the ring of their 
 trumpets clanging in the fresh morning, as they march 
 through the marble courts of the palace. I love the 
 gloom of night for its softness, the song of the night 
 ingale in the ivory moonlight, the rustle of the 
 breeze in the dark rose-thickets, and the odour of the 
 sleeping flowers in my gardens ; I love even the cry 
 of the owl from the prophet's tower, and the soft 
 thick sound of the bat's wings, as he flits past the 
 netting of my window. I love it all, for the whole 
 earth is rich and young and good to touch, and most 
 sweet to live in. And I love you because you are 
 more beautiful than other men, fairer and stronger 
 and braver, and because you love me, and will let no 
 other love me but yourself, if you were to die for it. 
 Ah, my beloved, I would that I had all the sweet 
 voices of the earth, all the tuneful tongues of the air, 
 to tell you how I love you ! " 
 
 " There is no lack of sweetness, nor of eloquence, 
 my princess," said Zoroaster ; " there is no need of 
 any voice sweeter than yours, nor of any tongue more 
 tuneful. You love in your way, I in mine ; the two 
 together must surely be the perfect whole. Is it not 
 
ZOROASTER. 29 
 
 so? Nay seal the deed once again and again* 
 so ! 4 Love is stronger than death,' says your 
 preacher." 
 
 " ' And jealousy is as cruel as the grave/ he says, 
 too," added Nehushta, her eyes flashing fire as her lips 
 met his. " You must never make me jealous, Zoro 
 aster, never, never! I would be so cruel you can 
 not dream how cruel I would be ! " 
 
 Zoroaster laughed under his silken beard, a deep^ 
 joyous, ringing laugh that startled the moonlit still 
 ness. 
 
 " By Nabon and Bel, there is small cause for your 
 jealousy here," he said. 
 
 " Swear not by your false gods ! " laughed Nehushta. 
 "You know not how little it would need to rouse me." 
 
 "I will not give you that little," answered the 
 Persian. " And as for the false gods, they are well 
 enough for a man to swear by in these days. But I 
 will swear by any one you command me, or by any 
 thing ! " 
 
 " Swear not, or you will say again that the oath has 
 need of sealing," replied Nehushta, drawing her mantle 
 around her, so as to cover half her face. " Tell me, 
 when are we to begin our journey ? We have talked 
 much and have said little, as it ever is. Shall we go 
 at once, or are we to wait for another order? Is 
 Darius safe upon the throne ? Who is to be chief est 
 at the court one of the seven princes, I suppose, or 
 his old father ? Come, do you know anything of all 
 these changes ? Why have you never told me what 
 was going to happen you who are high in power 
 and know everything?" 
 
30 ZOROASTER. 
 
 " Your questions flock upon me like doves to a 
 maiden who feeds them from her hand," said Zoroaster, 
 with a smile, " and I know not which shall be fed first. 
 As for the king, I know that he will be great, and will 
 hold securely the throne, for he has already the love 
 of the people from the Western sea to the wild Eastern 
 mountains. But it seemed as though the seven princes 
 would have divided the empire amongst them, until 
 this news came. I think he will more likely take one 
 of your people for his close friend than trust to the 
 princes. As for our journey, we must depart betimes, 
 or the king will have gone before us from Shushan to 
 Stakhar in the south, where they say he will build 
 himself a royal dwelling and stay in the coming winter 
 time. Prepare yourself for the journey, therefore, my 
 princess, lest anything be forgotten and you should be 
 deprived of what you need for any time." 
 
 " I am never deprived of what I need," said Ne- 
 hushta, half in pride and half in jest. 
 
 " Nor I, when I am with my beloved ! " answered 
 the Persian. "And now the moon is high, and I 
 must bear this news to our master, the prophet." 
 
 " So soon ? " said Nehushta reproachfully, and she 
 turned her head away. 
 
 " I would there were no partings, my beloved, even 
 for the space of an hour," answered Zoroaster, tenderly 
 drawing her to him; but she resisted a little and 
 would not look at him. 
 
 " Farewell now good-night, my princess light 
 of my soul ; " he kissed her dark cheek passionately, 
 Good-night I " 
 
 He trod swiftly across the terrace. 
 
ZOEOASTEB. 31 
 
 " Zoroaster ! prince ! " Nehushta called aloud, but 
 without turning. He came back. She threw her 
 arms about his neck and kissed him almost desper 
 ately. Then she pushed him gently away from her. 
 
 " Go my love only that," she murmured, and 
 he left her standing by the marble balustrade, while 
 the yellow moon turned slowly pale as she rose in 
 the heavens, and the song of the lorn nightingale re 
 echoed in the still night, from the gardens to the 
 towers, m long sweet cries of burning love, and soft, 
 complaining, silvery notes of mingled sorrow and 
 
32 ZOKOASTEB. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 IN the prophet's chamber, also, the moonbeams fell 
 upon the marble floor ; but a seven-beaked Hebrew 
 lamp of bronze shed a warmer light around, soft and 
 mellow, yet strong enough to illuminate the scroll 
 that lay open upon the old man's knee. His brows 
 were knit together, and the furrows on his face were 
 shaded deeply by the high light, as he sat propped 
 among many cushions and wrapped in his ample 
 purple cloak that was thickly lined with fur and 
 drawn together over his snowy beard ; for the years 
 of his life were nearly accomplished, and the warmth 
 of his body was even then leaving him. 
 
 Zoroaster raised the heavy curtain of carpet that 
 hung before the low square door, and came and bowed 
 himself before the teacher ^f his youth and the friend 
 of his manhood. The prophet looked up keenly, and 
 something like a smile crossed his stern features as 
 his eyes rested on the young officer in his magnificent 
 armour ; Zoroaster held his helmet in his hand, and 
 his fair hair fell like a glory to his shoulders, mingling 
 with his silky beard upon his breastplate. His dark 
 blue eyes met his master's fearlessly. 
 
 " Hail ! and live for ever, chosen of the Lord ! " he 
 said in salutation. " I bring tidings of great moment 
 and importance. If it be thy pleasure, I will speak ; 
 but if not, I will come at another season." 
 
ZOROASTER. 33 
 
 " Sit upon my right hand, Zoroaster, and tell me all 
 that thou hast to tell. Art thou not my beloved son, 
 whom the Lord hath given me to comfort mine old 
 age?" 
 
 " I am thy servant and the servant of thine house, 
 my father," answered Zoroaster, seating himself upon 
 a carved chair at a little distance from the prophet. 
 
 " Speak, my son, what tidings hast thou ? " 
 
 " There is a messenger come in haste from Shushan, 
 bearing tidings and letters. The seven princes have 
 slain Smerdis in his house, and have chosen Darius 
 the son of Gushtasp to be king." 
 
 "Praise be to the Lord who hath chosen a just 
 man ! " exclaimed the prophet devoutly. " So may 
 good come out of evil, and salvation by the shedding 
 of blood." 
 
 " Even so, my master," answered Zoroaster. " It 
 is also written that Darius, may he live for ever, will 
 establish himself very surely upon the throne of the 
 Medes and Persians. There are letters by the hand 
 of the same messenger, sealed with the signet of the 
 Great King, wherein I am bidden to bring the kins 
 folk of Jehoiakim, who was king over Judah, to Shu 
 shan without delay, that the Great King may do them 
 honour as is meet and right; but what that honour 
 may be that he would do to them, I know not." 
 
 "What is this that thou sayest?" asked Daniel, 
 starting forward from his reclining position, and fix 
 ing his dark eyes on Zoroaster. " Will the king take 
 away from me the children of my old age ? Art not 
 thou as my son ? And is not Nehushta as my daughter ? 
 As lor the rest, I care not if they go. But Nehushta 
 
34 ZOROASTER. 
 
 is as the apple of my eye ! She is as a fair flower 
 growing in the desert of my years! What is this 
 that the king hath done to me? Whither will he 
 take her from me ? " 
 
 " Let not my lord be troubled," said Zoroaster, ear 
 nestly, for he was moved by the sudden grief of the 
 prophet. " Let not my lord be troubled. It is but 
 for a space, for a few weeks ; and thy kinsfolk will be 
 with thee again, and I also." 
 
 " A space, a few weeks ! What is a space to thee, 
 child, or a week that thou shouldest regard it ? But 
 I am old and full of years. It may be, if now thou 
 takest my daughter Nehushta from me, that I shall see 
 her face no more, neither thine, before I go hence and 
 return not. Go to ! Thou art young, but I am now 
 nigh unto a hundred years old." 
 
 " Nevertheless, if it be the will of the Great King, 
 I must accomplish this thing," answered the young 
 man. " But I will swear by thy head and by mine 
 that there shall no harm happen to the young princess ; 
 and if anything happen to her that is evil, may the 
 Lord do so to me and more also. Behold, I have 
 sworn ; let not my lord be troubled any more." 
 
 But the prophet bowed his head and covered his 
 face with his hands. Aged and childless, Zoroaster 
 and Nehushta were to him children, and he loved them 
 with his whole soul. Moreover, he knew the Persian 
 Court, and he knew that if once they were taken into 
 the whirl and eddy of its intrigue and stirring life, 
 they would not return to Ecbatana ; or returning, they 
 would be changed and seem no more the same. He 
 was bitterly grieved and hurt at the thought of such 
 
ZOROASTER. 3& 
 
 a separation, and in the grand simplicity of his great 
 ness he felt no shame at shedding tears for them. 
 Zoroaster himself, in the pride of his brilliant youth, 
 was overcome with pain at the thought of quitting 
 the sage who had been a father to him for thirty years. 
 He had never been separated from Daniel save for r, 
 few months at a time during the wars of Cambyses ; 
 at six-and-twenty years of age he had been appointed 
 to the high position of captain of the fortress of Ecbat- 
 ana; since which time he had enjoyed the closest 
 intercourse with the prophet, his master. 
 
 Zoroaster was a soldier by force of circumstances, 
 and he wore his gorgeous arms with matchless grace, 
 but there were two things that, with him, went before 
 his military profession, and completely eclipsed it in 
 importance. 
 
 From his earliest youth he had been the pupil of 
 Daniel, who had inspired him with his own love of 
 the mystic lore to which the prophet owed so much 
 of his singular success in the service of the Assyrian 
 and Persian monarchs. The boy's poetical mind, 
 strengthened and developed by the study of the art 
 of reasoning, and of the profound mathematical 
 knowledge of the Chaldean astronomers, easily 
 grasped the highest subjects, and showed from the 
 first a capacity and lucidity that delighted his mas 
 ter. To attain by a life of rigid ascetic practice to 
 the intuitive comprehension of knowledge, to the 
 understanding of natural laws not discernible to the 
 senses alone, and to the merging of the soul and 
 higher intelligence in the one universal and divine 
 
 assence, were the objects Daniel proposed to his will- 
 YoL 6 M: 
 
36 ZOROASTER. 
 
 ing pupil. The noble boy, by his very nature, 
 scorned and despised the pleasures of sense, and 
 yearned ever for the realising of an ideal wherein a 
 sublime wisdom of transcendent things should direct 
 a sublime courage in things earthly to the doing of 
 great deeds. 
 
 Year after year the young Persian grew up in the 
 splendid surroundings of the court, distinguished be 
 fore all those of his age for his courage and fearless 
 honesty, for his marvellous beauty, and for his pro 
 found understanding of all subjects, great and small, 
 that came within the sphere of his activity ; most of 
 all remarkable, perhaps, for the fact that he cared 
 nothing for the society of women, and had never 
 been known to love any woman. He was a favourite 
 with Cyrus ; and even Cambyses, steeped in degrad 
 ing vice, and surrounded by flatterers, panderers, and 
 priests of the Magians, from the time when he began 
 to suspect his brother, the real Smerdis, of designs 
 upon the throne, recognised the exceptional merits 
 and gifts of the young noble, and promoted him to 
 his position in Ecbatana, at the time when he per 
 mitted Daniel to build his great tower in that ancient 
 fortress. The dissipated king may have understood 
 that the presence of such men as Daniel and Zoroaster 
 would be of greater advantage in an outlying district 
 where justice and moderation would have a good 
 effect upon the population, than in his immediate 
 neighbourhood, where the purity and temperance of 
 their lives contrasted too strongly with the degrading 
 spectacle his own vices afforded to the court. 
 
 Here* in the splendid retirement of a royal palace, 
 
ZOROASTER. 37 
 
 the prophet had given himself up completely to the 
 contemplation of those subjects which, through all 
 his life, had engrossed his leisure time, and of which 
 the knowledge had so directly contributed to his sin 
 gular career ; and in the many hours of leisure which 
 Zoroaster's position allowed him, Daniel sought to 
 bring the intelligence of the soldier-philosopher to 
 the perfection of its final development. Living, as 
 he did, entirely in his tower, save when, at rare inter 
 vals, he caused himself to be carried down to the gar 
 dens, the prophet knew little of what went on in the 
 palace below, so that he sometimes marvelled that his 
 pupil's attention wandered, and that his language be 
 trayed occasionally a keener interest in his future, 
 and in the possible vicissitudes of his military life, 
 than he had formerly been wont to show. 
 
 For a new element had entered into the current of 
 Zoroaster's thoughts. For years he had seen the 
 lovely child Nehushta growing up. As a boy of 
 twenty summers he had rocked her on his knee ; 
 later he had taught her and played with her, and 
 seen the little child turn to the slender girl, haughty 
 and royal in her young ways, and dominating her 
 playfellows as a little lioness might rule a herd of 
 tamer creatures ; and at last her sixteenth year had 
 brought with it the bloom of early southern woman 
 hood, and Zoroaster, laughing with her among the 
 roses in the gardens, on a summer's day, had felt his 
 heart leap and sink within him, and his own fair 
 cheek grow hot and cold for the ring of her voice and 
 the touch of her soft hand. 
 
 He who knew so much of mankind, who had lived 
 
38 ZOROASTER. 
 
 so long at the court, and had coldly studied every 
 stage of human nature, where unbridled human nature 
 ever ruled the hour, knew what he felt ; and it was 
 as though he had received a sharp wound that thrust 
 him through, body and heart and soul, and cleft his 
 cold pride in two. For days he wandered beneath the 
 pines and the rhododendron trees alone, lamenting for 
 the fabric of mighty philosophy he had built himself, 
 in which no woman was ever to set foot ; and which a 
 woman's hand, a woman's eyes had shattered in a day. 
 It seemed as if his whole life were blasted and de 
 stroyed, so that he was become even as other men, to 
 suffer love and eat his heart out for a girl's fair word. 
 He would have escaped from meeting the dark young 
 princess again ; but one evening, as he stood alone 
 upon the terrace of the gardens, sorrowing for the 
 change in himself, she found him, and there they 
 looked into each other's eyes and saw a new light, and 
 loved each other fiercely from that day, as only the 
 untainted children of godlike races could love. But 
 neither of them dared to tell the prophet, nor to let 
 those of the palace know that they had pledged each 
 other their troth, down there upon the moonlit ter 
 race, behind the myrtles. Instinctively they dreaded 
 lest the knowledge of their love should raise a storm 
 of anger in Daniel's breast at the idea that his chosen 
 philosopher should abandon the paths of mystic learn 
 ing and reduce himself to the level of common man 
 kind by marriage ; and Zoroaster guessed how painful 
 to the true Israelite would be the thought that a 
 daughter and a princess of Judah should bfl united 
 in wedlock with one who, however noble and true and 
 
ZOROASTER. 39 
 
 wise, was, after all, a stranger and an unbeliever. For 
 Zoroaster, while devoting himself heart and soul to 
 the study of Daniel's philosophy, and of the wisdom 
 the latter had acquired from the Chaldeans, had never 
 theless firmly maintained his independence of thought. 
 He was not an Israelite, nor would he ever wish to 
 become one ; but he was not an idolater nor a Magian, 
 nor a follower of Gomata, the half-Indian Brahmin, 
 who had endeavoured to pass himself off as Smerdis 
 the son of Cyrus. 
 
 Either of these causes alone would have sufficed to 
 raise a serious obstacle to the marriage. Together 
 they seemed insurmountable. During the disorder 
 and anarchy that prevailed in the seven months of 
 the reign of Pseudo-Smerdis, it would have been mad 
 ness to have married, trusting to the favour of the 
 wretched semi-monarch for fortune and advancement ; 
 nor could Nehushta have married and maintained her 
 state as a princess of Judah without the consent of 
 Daniel, who was her guardian, and whose influence 
 was paramount in Media, and very great even at court. 
 Zoroaster was therefore driven to conceal his passion 
 as best he could, trusting to the turn of future events 
 for the accomplishment of his dearest wish. In the 
 meanwhile, he and the princess met daily in public, 
 and Zoroaster's position as captain of the fortress 
 gave him numerous opportunities of meeting Nehushta 
 in the solitude of the gardens, which were jealously 
 guarded and set apart exclusively for the use of 
 Nehushta and her household. 
 
 But now that the moment had come when it seemed 
 as though a change were to take place in the destinies 
 
40 ZOROASTER. 
 
 of the lovers, they felt constrained. Beyond a few 
 simple questions and answers, they had not discussed 
 the matter of the journey when they were together ; 
 for Nehushta was so much surprised and delighted at 
 the idea of again seeing the magnificence of the court 
 at Shushan, which she so well remembered from the 
 period of her childhood, that she feared to let Zo 
 roaster see how glad she was to leave Ecbatana, 
 which, but for him, would have been to her little 
 better than a prison. He, on the contrary, thinking 
 that he foresaw an immediate removal of all obstacle 
 and delay through the favor of Darius, was, never 
 theless, too gentle and delicate of tact to bring sud 
 denly before Nehushta's mind the prospect of marry 
 ing which presented itself so vividly to his own 
 fancy. But he felt no less disturbed in his heart 
 when face to face with the old prophet's sorrow at 
 losing his foster-daughter ; and, for the first time in 
 his life, he felt guilty when he reflected that Daniel 
 was grieved at his own departure almost as deeply as 
 on account of Nehushta. He experienced what is so 
 common with persons of cold and even temperament 
 when brought into close relation with more expansive 
 and affectionate natures ; he was overcome with the 
 sense that his old master gave him more love and 
 more thought than he could possibly give in return, 
 and that he was therefore ungrateful ; and the knowl 
 edge he alone possessed, that he surely intended to 
 marry the princess in spite of the prophet, and by 
 the help of the king, added painfully to his mental 
 suffering. 
 
 The silence lasted some minutes, till the old man 
 
ZOROASTER. 41 
 
 suddenly lifted his head and leaned back among his 
 cushions, gazing at his companion's face. 
 
 " Hast thou no sorrow, nor any regret ? " he asked 
 sadly. 
 
 " Nay, my lord doth me injustice,*' answered Zo 
 roaster, his brows contracting in his perplexity. " I 
 should be ungrateful if I repented not leaving thee 
 even for the space of a day. But let my lord be 
 comforted ; this parting is not for long, and before 
 the flocks come down from Zagros to take shelter 
 from the winter, we will be with thee." 
 
 " Swear to me, then, that thou wilt return before 
 the winter," insisted the prophet half-scornfully. 
 
 " I cannot swear," answered Zoroaster. " Behold, 
 I am in the hands of the Great King. I cannot 
 swear." 
 
 " Say rather that thou art in the hand of the Lord, 
 and that therefore thou canst not swear. For I say 
 thou wilt not return, and I shall see thy face no 
 more. The winter cometh, and the birds of the air 
 fly towards the south, and I am alone in the land of 
 snow and frost ; and the spring cometh also, and I 
 am yet alone, and my time is at hand; for thou 
 comest not any more, neither my daughter Nehushta, 
 neither any of my kinsfolk. And behold, I go down 
 to the grave alone." 
 
 The yellow light of the hanging lamp above shone 
 upon the old man's eyes, and there was a dull fire in 
 them. His face was drawn and haggard, and every 
 line and furrow traced by the struggles of his hundred 
 years stood out dark and rugged and tremendous in 
 power. Zoroaster shuddered as he looked on him, 
 
42 ZOROASTER. 
 
 and, though he would have spoken, he was awed to 
 silence. 
 
 " Go forth, my son," cried the prophet in deep 
 tones, and as he spoke he slowly raised his body till 
 he sat rigidly erect, and his wan and ancient fingers 
 were stretched out towards the young soldier. " Go 
 forth and do thy part, for thou art in the hand of the 
 Lord, and some things that thou wilt do shall be good, 
 and some things evil. For thou hast departed from 
 the path of crystal that leadeth among the stars, and 
 thou hast fallen away from the ladder whereby the 
 angels ascend and descend upon the earth, and thou 
 art gone after the love of a woman which endureth 
 not. And for a season thou shalt be led astray, and 
 for a time thou shalt suffer great things ; and after a 
 time thou shalt return into the way ; and again a time, 
 and thou shalt perish in thine own imaginations, 
 because thou hast not known the darkness from the 
 light, nor the good from the eviL By a woman shalt 
 thou go astray, and from a woman shalt thou return ; 
 yet thou shalt perish. But because there is some 
 good in thee, it shall endure, and thy name also, for 
 generations ; and though the evil that besetteth thee 
 shall undo thee, yet at the last thy soul shall live." 
 
 Zoroaster buried his face in his hands, overcome by 
 the majesty of the mighty prophet and by the terror 
 of his words. 
 
 " Rise and go forth, for the hand of the Lord is 
 upon thee, and no man can hinder that thou doest. 
 Thou shalt look upon the sun and shalt delight in 
 him ; and again thou shalt look and the light of the 
 air shall be as darkness. Thou shalt boast in thy 
 
ZOROASTER. 43 
 
 strength and in thine armour that there is none like 
 thee, and again thou shalt cast thy glory from thee 
 and say, ' This also is vanity.' The king delighteth 
 in thee, and thou shalt stand before the queen in 
 armour of gold and in fine raiment ; and the end is 
 near, for the hand of the Lord is upon thee. If the 
 Lord will work great things by thee, what is that to 
 me ? Go forth quickly, and rest not by the way, lest 
 the woman tempt thee and thou perish. And as for me, 
 I go also not with thee, but before thee. See that 
 thou follow after for I go. Yea, I see even now 
 light in the darkness of the world, and the glory of 
 the triumph of heaven is over me, triumphing greatly 
 in the majesty of light." 
 
 Zoroaster looked up and fell to the ground upon 
 his knees in wonder and amazement at Daniel's feet, 
 while his heavy helmet rolled clanging on the marble 
 pavement. The prophet stood erect as a giant oak, 
 stretching his withered hands to heaven, all the mass 
 of his snow-white hair and beard falling about him 
 to his waist. His face was illuminated as from within 
 with a strange light, and his dark eyes turned upward 
 seemed to receive and absorb the brightness of an open 
 heaven. His voice rang again with the strength of 
 youth, and his whole figure was clothed as with the 
 majesty of another world. Again he spoke : 
 
 " Behold, the voice of the ages is in me, and the 
 Lord my God hath taken me up. My days are 
 ended; I am taken up and shall no more be cast 
 down. The earth departeth and the glory of the 
 Lord is come which hath no end for ever. 
 
 " The Lord corneth He cometh quickly. In His 
 
44 ZOROASTER. 
 
 right hand are the ages, and the days and the nights 
 are under His feet. The ranks of the Cherubim are 
 beside Him, and the armies of the Seraphim are 
 dreadful. The stars of heaven tremble, and the 
 voice of their moaning is as the voice of the utter 
 most fear. The arch of the outer firmament is shiv 
 ered like a broken bow, and the curtain of the sky is 
 rent in pieces as a veil in the tempest. The sun and 
 the moon shriek aloud, and the sea crieth horribly 
 before the Lord. 
 
 " The nations are extinct as the ashes of a fire that 
 is gone out, and the princes of the earth are no more. 
 He hath bruised the earth in a mortar, and the dust 
 of it is scattered abroad in the heavens. The stars in 
 their might hath He pounded to pieces, and the foun 
 dations of the ages to fine powder. There is nothing 
 of them left, and their voices are dead. There are 
 dim shapes in the horror of emptiness. 
 
 "But out of the north ariseth a fair glory with 
 brightness, and the breath of the Lord breatheth life 
 into all things. The beam of the dawn is risen, and 
 there shall again be times and seasons, and the Being 
 of the majesty of God is made manifest in form. 
 From the dust of the earth is the earth made again, 
 and of the beams of His glory shall He make new 
 stars. j , 
 
 " Send up the voices of praise, O ye things that 
 are ; cry out in exultation with mighty music ! 
 Praise the Lord in whom is Life, and in whom all 
 things have Being ! Praise Him and glorify Him 
 that is risen with the wings of the morning of 
 heaven ; in whose breath the stars breathe, in whose 
 
ZOROASTER. 45 
 
 brightness also the firmament is lightened! Praise 
 Him who maketh the wheels of the spheres to run 
 their courses; who maketh the flowers to bloom in 
 the spring, and the little flowers of the field to give 
 forth their sweetness ! Praise Him, winter and sum 
 mer ; praise Him, cold and heat ! Praise Him, stars 
 of heaven ; praise Him, men and women in the earth ! 
 Praise and glory and honour be unto the Most High 
 Jehovah, who sitteth upon the Throne for ever, and 
 ever, and ever . . ." 
 
 The prophet's voice rang out with tremendous 
 force and majestic clearness as he uttered the last 
 words. Throwing up his arms to their height, he 
 stood one moment longer, immovable, his face radi 
 antly illuminated with an unearthly glory. One 
 instant he scood there, and then fell back, straight 
 and rigid, to his length upon the cushioned floor 
 dead ! 
 
 Zoroaster started to his feet in amazement and 
 horror, and stood staring at the body of his master 
 and friend lying stiff and stark beneath the yellow 
 light of the hanging lamp. Then suddenly he sprang 
 forward and kneeled again beside the pale noble head 
 that looked so grand in death. He took one of the 
 hands and chafed it, he listened for the beating of 
 the heart that beat no more, and sought for the stir 
 ring of the least faint breath of lingering life. But 
 he sought in vain ; and there, in the upper chamber 
 of the tower, the young warrior fell upon his face 
 and wept alone by the side of the mighty dead. 
 
46 ZOROASTER. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THUS died Daniel, and for seven days the women 
 sat apart upon the ground and mourned him, while 
 the men embalmed his body and made it ready for 
 burial. They wrapped him in much fine linen and 
 poured out very precious spices and ointments from 
 the store-houses of the palaces. Round about his 
 body they burned frankincense and myrrh and amber, 
 and the gums of the Indian benzoe and of the Per 
 sian fir, and great candles of pure wax ; for all the 
 seven days the mourners from the city made a great 
 mourning, ceasing not to sing the praises of the 
 prophet and to cry aloud by day and night that the 
 best and the worthiest and the greatest of all men 
 was dead. 
 
 Thus they watched and mourned and sang his 
 great deeds. And in the lower chamber of the tower 
 the women sat upon the floor, with Nehushta in their 
 midst, and sorrowed greatly, fasting and mourning in 
 raiment of sackcloth, and strewing ashes upon the 
 floor and upon themselves. Nehushta's face grew 
 thin and very pale and her lips white in that time, 
 and she let her heavy hair hang neglected about her. 
 Many of the men shaved their heads and went bare 
 footed, and the fortress and the palaces were filled 
 with the sound of weeping and grief. The Hebrews 
 who were there mourned their chief, and the two 
 
ZOROASTER. 47 
 
 Levites sat beside the dead man and read long chap 
 ters from their scriptures. The Medes mourned their 
 great and just governor, under the Assyrian name of 
 Belteshazzar, given first to Daniel by Nebuchadnezzar ; 
 and from all the town the noise of their weeping and 
 mourning came up, like the mighty groan of a nation, 
 to the ears of those that dwelt in the fortress and the 
 palace. 
 
 On the eighth day they buried him, with pomp and 
 state, in a tomb in the garden which they had built 
 during the week of mourning. The two Levites and 
 a young Hebrew and Zoroaster himself, clad in sack 
 cloth and barefooted, raised up the prophet's body 
 upon a bier and bore him upon their shoulders down 
 the broad staircase of the tower and out into the gar 
 den to his tomb. The mourners went before, many 
 hundreds of Median women with dishevelled hair, 
 rending their dresses of sackcloth and scattering ashes 
 upon their path and upon their heads, crying aloud in 
 wild voices of grief and piercing the air with their 
 screams, till they came to the tomb and stood round 
 about it while the four men laid their master in his 
 great coffin of black marble beneath the pines and the 
 rhododendrons. And the pipers followed after, mak 
 ing shrill and dreadful music that sounded as though 
 some supernatural beings added their voices to the 
 universal wail of woe. And on either side of the body 
 walked the women, the prophet's kinsfolk; but Ne- 
 hushta walked by Zoroaster, and ever and anon, as 
 the funeral procession wound through the myrtle 
 walks of the deep gardens, her dark and heavy eyes 
 stole a glance sidelong at her strong fair lover. His 
 
48 ZOROASTER. 
 
 face was white as death and set sternly before him, 
 and his dishevelled hair and golden beard flowed 
 wildly over the rough coarseness of his long sackcloth 
 garments. But his step never faltered, though he 
 walked barefooted upon the hard gravel, and from 
 the upper chamber of the tower whence they bore the 
 corpse to the very moment when they laid it in the 
 tomb, his face never changed, neither looked he to 
 the right nor to the left. And then, at last, when 
 they had lowered their beloved master with linen 
 bands to his last resting-place, and the women came 
 near with boxes of nard and ambergris and precious 
 ointments, Zoroaster looked long and fixedly at the 
 swathed head, and the tears rolled down his cheeks 
 and dropped upon his beard and upon the marble of 
 the coffin ; till at last he turned in silence, and went 
 away through the multitude that parted before him, 
 as pale as the dead and answering no man's greeting, 
 nor even glancing at Nehushta who had stood at his 
 elbow. And he went away and hid himself for the 
 rest of that day. 
 
 But in the evening, when the sun was gone down, 
 he came and stood upon the terrace in the darkness, 
 for there was no moon. He wore again his arms, and 
 his purple cloak was about him, for he had his duty 
 to perform in visiting the fortress. The starlight 
 glimmered faintly on his polished helmet and duskily 
 made visible his marble features and his beard. He 
 stood with his back to the pillars of the balustrade, 
 looking towards the myrtles of the garden, for he knew 
 that Nehushta would come to the wonted tryst. He 
 waited long, but at last he heard a step upon the 
 
ZOROASTER, 49 
 
 gravel path and the rustle of the myrtles, and pres 
 ently in the faint light he could see the white skirt 
 of her garment beneath the dark mantle moving 
 swiftly towards him. He sprang forward to meet her 
 and would have taken her in his arms, but she put 
 him back and looked away from him while she walked 
 slowly to the front of the terrace. Even in the gloom 
 of the starlight Zoroaster could see that something 
 had offended her, and a cold weight seemed to fall 
 upon his breast and chilled the rising words of loving 
 greeting. 
 
 Zoroaster followed her and laid his hand upon her 
 shoulder. Unresponsive, she allowed it to remain 
 there. 
 
 " My beloved," he said at last, trying in vain to 
 look into her averted face, " have you no word for me 
 to-night ? " Still she answered nothing. " Has your 
 sorrow made you forget our love?" he murmured 
 close to her ear. She started back from him a little 
 and looked at him , Even in the dusk he could see 
 her eyes flash as she answered : 
 
 " Had not your own sorrow so utterly got the mas 
 tery over you to-day that you even refused to look at 
 me ? " she asked. " In all that long hour when we 
 were so near together, did you give me one glance ? 
 You had forgotten me in the extremity of your grief ! " 
 she cried scornfully. "And now that the first tor 
 rent of your tears has dwindled to a little stream, you 
 have time to remember me ! I thank my lord for the 
 notice he deigns to give his handmaiden, but I need 
 it not. Well why are you here ? " 
 
 Zoroaster stood up to his height and folded his 
 
50 ZOBOASTEB. 
 
 arms deliberately, facing Nehushta, and he spoke 
 calmly, though there was in his voice the dulness of 
 a great and sudden pain. He knew men well enough, 
 but he knew little of women. 
 
 " There is a time to be sorrowful and a time for 
 joy," he said. " There is a time for weeping and a 
 time for the glances of love. I did as I did, because 
 when a man has a great grief for one dead and when 
 he desires to show his sorrow in doing honour to one 
 who has been as a father to him, it is not meet that 
 other thoughts should be in his mind ; not even those 
 thoughts which are most dear to him and nearest to 
 his heart. Therefore I looked not at you when we 
 were burying our master, and though I love you and 
 in my heart look ever on your face, yet to-day my 
 eyes were turned from you and I saw you not. 
 Wherefore are you angry with me ? " 
 
 " I am not angry," said Nehushta, " but think you 
 love me little that you turn from me so easily." She 
 looked down, and her face was quite hidden in the 
 dark shadow. Then Zoroaster put his arm about her 
 neck and drew her to him, and, though she resisted a 
 little, in a moment her head rested on his breast. 
 Then she struggled again. 
 
 " Nay, let me go, for you do not love me ! " she 
 said, half in a whisper. But he held her close. 
 
 " Nay, but you shall not go, for I do love you," he 
 answered tenderly. 
 
 " Shall not ? " cried she, turning in his arms, half 
 fiercely; then her voice sank and thrilled softly. 
 " Say that I will not," she murmured, and her arms 
 went round him and pressed him passionately to her. 
 
ZOROASTER. 51 
 
 " Oh, my beloved, why do you ever seem so cold ? so 
 cold when I so love you?" 
 
 " I am not cold," he said fondly, " and I love you 
 beyond all power of words to tell. Said we not that 
 you had your way and I mine ? Who shall tell us 
 which is the sweeter music when both unite in so 
 grand a harmony ? Only doubt not, for doubting is 
 as the drop that falls from the eaves upon the marble 
 corner-stone, and, by ever falling, wears furrows in 
 the stone that the whole ocean could not soften." 
 
 " I will not doubt any more," said Nehushta sud 
 denly, " only can you not love me a little sometimes 
 in the way I do you? It is so sweet, my way of 
 loving." 
 
 " Indeed I will try, for it is very sweet," answered 
 Zoroaster, and, bending down, he kissed her lips. 
 Far off from the tower the melancholy cry of an owl 
 echoed sadly across the gardens, and a cool damp 
 breeze sprang up suddenly from the east. Nehushta 
 shuddered slightly, and drew her cloak about her. 
 
 " Let us walk upon the terrace," she said, " it is 
 cold to-night is not this the last night here?" 
 
 "Yes; to-morrow we must go hence upon our 
 journey. This is the last night." 
 
 Nehushta drew closer to her lover as they paced 
 the terrace together, and each wound one arm about 
 the other. For some minutes they walked in silence, 
 each perhaps recalling the many meetings upon that 
 very terrace since the first time their lips met in love 
 under the ivory moonlight of the month Tammuz, 
 more than a year ago. At last Nehushta spoke. 
 
 " Know you this new king ? " she asked. " I saw 
 
52 ZOROASTER. 
 
 him but for a few moments last year. He was a 
 young prince, but he is not fair." 
 
 "A young prince with an old man's head upon 
 his shoulders," answered Zoroaster. "He is a year 
 younger than I but I would not have his battles to 
 fight ; nor, if I had, would I have taken Atossa to be 
 my wife." 
 
 " Atossa ? " repeated Nehushta. 
 
 "Yes. The king has already married her -she 
 was the wife of Cambyses, and also of the false 
 Smerdis, the Magian, whom Darius has slain." 
 
 " Is she fair ? Have I not seen her ? " asked 
 Nehushta quickly. 
 
 " Indeed, you must have seen her at the court in 
 Shushan, before we came to Ecbatana. She was just 
 married to Cambyses then, but he regarded her little, 
 for he was ever oppressed with wine and feasting. 
 But you were a child then, and were mostly with the 
 women of your house, and you may not have seen 
 her." 
 
 " Tell me had she not blue eyes and yellow hair ? 
 Had she not a cruel face very cold ? " 
 
 "Aye, it may be that she had a hard look. I 
 remember that her eyes were blue. She was very 
 unhappy ; therefore she helped the Magian. It was 
 not she that betrayed him." 
 
 " You pitied her even then, did you not ? " asked 
 Nehushta. 
 
 " Yes she deserved pity." 
 
 " She will have her revenge now. A woman with 
 a face like hers loves revenge." 
 
 " Then she will deserve pity no longer," said Zoro 
 aster, with a slight laugh. 
 
ZOROASTEK. 53 
 
 " I hate her ! " said the princess, between her teeth. 
 
 " Hate her ? How can you hate a woman you 
 have never more than seen, and she has done you no 
 evil in the world ? " 
 
 "I am sure I shall hate her," answered Nehushta, 
 " She is not at all beautiful only cold and white 
 and cruel. How could the Great King be so foolish 
 as to marry her ? " 
 
 "May he live for ever! He marries whom he 
 pleases. But I pray you, do not begin by hating 
 the queen overmuch." 
 
 " Why not ? What have I to gain from the queen? " 
 asked the princess. " Am I not of royal blood as well 
 as she?" 
 
 " That is true," returned Zoroaster. " Neverthe 
 less there is a prudence for princesses as well as for 
 other people." 
 
 " I would not be afraid of the Great King himself 
 with you beside me," said Nehushta proudly. " But 
 I will be prudent to please you. Only I am sure I 
 shall hate her." 
 
 Zoroaster smiled to himself in the dusk, but he 
 would not have had the princess see he was amused. 
 
 "It shall be as you please," he said; "we shall 
 soon know how it will end, for we must begin our 
 journey to-morrow." 
 
 "It will need three weeks, will it not?" asked 
 Nehushta. 
 
 " Yes it is at least one hundred and fifty far- 
 sangs. It would weary you to travel more than seven 
 or eight f arsangs in a day's journey indeed, that is 
 a long distance for any one." 
 
54 ZOROASTER. 
 
 "We shall always be together, shall we not?" 
 asked the princess. 
 
 " I will ride beside your litter, my beloved," said 
 Zoroaster. " But it will be very tedious for you, and 
 you will often be tired. The country is very wild in 
 some parts, and we must trust to what we can take 
 with us for our comfort. Do not spare the mules, 
 therefore, but take everything you need.'* 
 
 "Besides, we may not return," said Nehushta 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 Her companion was silent. " Do you think we 
 shall ever come back ? " she asked presently. 
 
 " I have dreamed of coming back," answered Zoro 
 aster; "but I fear it is to be even as you say." 
 
 " Why say you that you fear it ! Is it not better 
 to live at the court than here in this distant fortress, 
 so shut off from the world that we might almost as 
 well be among the Scythians? Oh, I long for the 
 palace at Shushan ! I am sure it will seem tenfold 
 more beautiful now than it did when I was a child." 
 Zoroaster sighed. In his heart he knew there was 
 to be no returning to Media, and yet he had dreamed 
 of marrying the princess and being made governor 
 of the province, and bringing his wife home to this 
 beautiful land to live out a long life of quiet happi 
 ness. But he knew it was not to be ; and though 
 he tried hard to shake off the impression, he felt in 
 his inmost self that the words of the dying prophet 
 foretold truly what would happen to him. Only he 
 hoped that there was an escape, and the passion in 
 his heart scorned the idea that in loving Nehushta he 
 was being led astray, or made to abandon the right 
 path. 
 
ZOKOASTEB. 55 
 
 The cold breeze blew steadily from the east, with a 
 ehill dampness in it, sighing wearily among the trees. 
 The summer was not yet wholly come, and the after- 
 breath of the winter still made itself felt from time 
 to time. The lovers parted, taking leave of the 
 spot they loved so well, Zoroaster with a heavy 
 foreboding of evil to come ; Nehushta with a great 
 longing for the morrow, a mad desire to be on the 
 way to Shushan. 
 
 Something in her way of speaking had given Zo 
 roaster a sense of pain. Her interest in the court 
 and in the <tfreat King, the strange capricious hatred 
 that seemed already forming in her breast against 
 Atossa, the evident desire she betrayed to take part 
 in the brilliant life of the capital, indeed, her whole 
 manner troubled him. It seemed so unaccountable 
 that she should be angry with him for his conduct at 
 the burial of the prophet, that he almost thought she 
 had wished to take advantage of a trifle for the sake 
 of annoying him. He felt that doubt which never 
 comes so suddenly and wounds so keenly as when 
 a man feels the most certain of his position and of 
 himself. 
 
 He retired to his apartment in the palace with a 
 burden of unhappiness and evil presentiment that 
 was new to him. It was very different from the 
 sincere sorrow he had felt and still suffered for the 
 death of his master and friend. That misfortune had 
 not affected him as regarded Nehushta. But now he 
 had been separated from her during all the week by 
 the exigencies of the funeral ceremonies, and he had 
 looked forward to meeting her this evening as to a 
 
56 ZOROASTER. 
 
 great joy after so much mourning, and lie was disap 
 pointed. She had affected to be offended with him, 
 yet his reason told him that he had acted naturally 
 and rightly. Could he, the bearer of the prophet's 
 body, the captain of all the fortress, the man of all 
 others upon whom all eyes were turned, have ex 
 changed love glances or spoken soft words to the 
 princess by his side at such a time ? It was absurd ; 
 she had no right to expect such a thing. 
 
 However, he reflected that a new kind of life was 
 to begin on the morrow. For the best part of a 
 month he would ride by her litter all day long, and 
 sit at her table at noonday and evening ; he would 
 watch over her and take care of her, and see that her 
 slightest wants were instantly supplied ; a thousand 
 incidents would occur whereby he might re-establish 
 all the loving intimacy which seemed to have been so 
 unexpectedly shaken. And so, consoling himself 
 with the hopes of the future, and striving to overlook 
 the present, he fell asleep, wearied with the fatigues 
 and sorrows of the day. 
 
 But Nehushta lay all night upon her silken cush 
 ions, and watched the flickering little lamp and the 
 strange shadows it cast among the rich, painted carv 
 ings of the ceiling. She slept little, but waking she 
 dreamed of the gold and the glitter of Shushan, of the 
 magnificence of the young king, and of the brilliant 
 hard-featured beauty of Atossa, whom she already 
 hated or had determined to hate. The king inter 
 ested her most. She tried to recall his features and 
 manner as he had appeared when he tarried one night 
 in the fortress a year previous. She remembered a 
 
ZOBOASTEK. 67 
 
 black-browed man in the prime of youth, with heavy 
 brows and an eagle nose ; his young beard growing 
 black and square about his strong dark features, 
 which would have seemed coarse saving for his bright 
 eyes that looked every man fearlessly in the face- 
 A short man he seemed in her memory, square built; 
 and powerful as a bloodhound, of quick and decisive 
 speech, expecting to be understood before he had 
 half spoken his thoughts; a man, she fancied, who 
 must be untiring and violent of temper, inflexible 
 and brave in the execution of his purpose a strong 
 contrast outwardly to her tall and graceful lover. 
 Zoroaster's faultless beauty was a constant delight 
 to her eyes ; his soft deep voice sounded voluptuously 
 passionate when he spoke to herself, coldly and 
 deliberately dominating when addressing others. He 
 moved with perfect certainty and assurance of pur 
 pose, his whole presence breathed a high and superior 
 wisdom and untainted nobility of mind; he looked 
 and acted like a god, like a being from another world, 
 not subject to mortal passions, nor to the temptations 
 of common mankind. She gloried in his perfection 
 and in the secret knowledge that to her alone he 
 was a man simply and utterly dominated by love. 
 As she thought of him she grew proud and happy in 
 the idea that such a man should be her lover, and she 
 reproached herself for doubting his devotion that 
 evening. After all, she had only complained that he 
 had neglected her as he had really done, she added. 
 She wondered in her heart whether other men would 
 have done the same in his place, or whether this 
 power of coldly disregarding her presence when he 
 
58 ZOROASTER. 
 
 was occupied with a serious matter were not due to 
 a real and unconquerable hardness in his nature. 
 
 But as she lay there, her dark hair streaming over 
 the yellow silk of her pillows, her mind strayed from 
 her lover to the life before her, and the picture rose 
 quickly in her imagination. She even took up the 
 silver mirror that lay beside her and looked at herself 
 by the dim light of the little lamp, and said to her 
 self that she was beautiful, and that many in Shushan 
 would do her homage. She wac glad that Atossa 
 was so fair it would be a better contrast for her 
 own dark southern beauty. 
 
 Towards morning she slept, and dreamed of the 
 grand figure of the prophet, as she had seen him 
 stretched upon his death-bed in the upper chamber 
 of the tower ; she thought the dead man stirred and 
 opened his glazed eyes and pointed at her with his 
 bony fingers, and spoke words of anger and reproach. 
 Then she woke with a short cry in her terror, and the 
 light of the dawn shone gray and clear through the 
 doorway of the corridor at the end of her room, 
 where two of her handmaids slept across the thres 
 hold, their white cloaks drawn over their heads 
 against the chill air of the night. 
 
 Then the trumpets rang out in long-drawn clang 
 ing rhythm through the morning air, and Nehushta 
 heard the trampling of the beasts that were being got 
 ready for the journey, in the court without, and the 
 cries of the drivers and of the serving-men. She rose 
 quickly from her bed a lithe white-clad figure in 
 the dawn light and pushed the heavy curtains 
 aside and looked out through the lattice; and she 
 
ZOEOASTEK. 59 
 
 forgot her evil dream, for her heart leaped again at 
 the thought that she should no more be shut up in 
 Ecbatana, and that before another month was over 
 she would be in Shushan, in the palace, where she 
 longed to be. 
 
 Vol. 6 
 
60 ZOBOASTEB. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE sun was almost setting, and his light was 
 already turning to a golden glow upon the vast plain 
 of Shushan, as the caravan of travellers halted for 
 the last time. A few stades away the two mounds 
 rose above the royal city like two tables out of the 
 flat country ; the lower one surmounted by the mar 
 ble columns, the towers and turrets and gleaming 
 architraves of the palace; and in front, upon the 
 right, the higher elevation crowned by the dark and 
 massive citadel of frowning walls and battlements. 
 The place chosen for the halt was the point where 
 the road from Nineveh, into which they had turned 
 when about half-way from Ecbatana, joined the broad 
 road from Babylon, near to the bridge. For some 
 time they had followed the quiet stream of the 
 Choaspes, and, looking across it, had watched how 
 the fortress seemed to come forward and overhang 
 the river, while the mound of the palace fell away 
 to the background. The city itself was, of course, 
 completely hidden from their view by the steep 
 mounds, that looked as inaccessible as thougn they 
 had been built of solid masonry. 
 
 Everything in the plain was green. Stade upon 
 stade, and farsang upon farsang, the ploughed fur 
 rows stretched away to the west and south; the corn 
 standing already green and high, and the fig-trees 
 
ZOROASTER. 61 
 
 putting out their broad green leaves. Here and there 
 in the level expanse of country the rays of the declin 
 ing sun were reflected from the whitewashed walls 
 of a farmhouse; or in the farther distance lingered 
 upon the burnt-brick buildings of an outlying village. 
 Beyond the river, in the broad meadow beneath the 
 turret-clad mound, half-naked, sunburnt boys drove 
 iome the small humped cows to the milking, scaring 
 away, as they went, the troops of white horses that 
 pastured in the same field, clapping their hands and 
 crying out at the little black foals that ran and frisked 
 by the side of their white dams. Here and there a 
 broad-shouldered, bearded fisherman angled in the 
 stream, or flung out a brown casting-net upon the 
 placid waters, drawing it slowly back to the bank, 
 with eyes intent upon the moving cords. 
 
 The caravan halted on the turf by the side of the 
 dusty road ; the mounted guards, threescore stalwart 
 riders from the Median plains, fell back to make room 
 for the travellers, and, springing to the ground, set 
 about picketing and watering their horses their 
 brazen armour and scarlet and blue mantles blazing 
 in a mass of rich colour in the evening sun ; while 
 their wild white horses, untired by the day's march, 
 plunged and snorted, and shook themselves, and bit 
 each other in play by mane and tail, in the delight of 
 being at least half free. 
 
 Zoroaster himself his purple mantle somewhat 
 whitened with the dust, and his fair face a little 
 browned by the three weeks' journey threw the 
 bridle of his horse to a soldier and ran quickly for 
 ward. A magnificent litter, closed all around with a 
 
62 ZOROASTER. 
 
 gilded lattice, and roofed with three awnings of white 
 linen, one upon the other, as a protection against the 
 sun, was being carefully unyoked from the mules 
 that had borne it. Tall Ethiopian slaves lifted it, 
 and carried it to the greenest spot of the turf by the 
 softly flowing river; and Zoroaster himself pushed 
 back the lattice and spread a rich carpet before it. 
 Nehushta took his proffered hand and stepped lightly 
 out, and stood beside him in the red light. She was 
 veiled, and her purple cloak fell in long folds to her 
 feet, and she stood motionless, with her back to the 
 city, looking towards the setting sun. 
 
 " Why do we stop here ? " she asked suddenly. 
 
 " The Great King, may he live for ever, is said not 
 to be in the city," answered Zoroaster, " and it would 
 ill become us to enter the palace before him." He 
 spoke aloud in the Median language that the slaves 
 might hear him ; then he added in Hebrew and in a 
 lower voice, " It would be scarcely wise, or safe, to 
 enter Shushan when the king is away. Who can tell 
 what may have happened there in these days ? Baby 
 lon has rebelled ; the empire is far from settled. All 
 Persia may be on the very point of a revolt." 
 
 " A fitting time indeed for our journey for me 
 and my women to be travelling abroad with a score 
 of horsemen for a guard! Why did you bring me 
 here ? How long are we to remain encamped by 
 the roadside, waiting the pleasure of the populace to 
 let us in, or the convenience of this new king to 
 return?" 
 
 Nehushta turned upon her companion as she spoke, 
 and there was a ring of mingled scorn and disappoint- 
 
, ZOROASTER. 63 
 
 ment in her voice. Her dark eyes stared coldly at 
 Zoroaster from the straight opening between her 
 veils, and before he could answer, she turned her 
 back upon him and moved a few steps away, gazing 
 out at the setting sun across the fertile meadows. 
 The warrior stood still, and a dark flush overspread 
 his face. Then he turned pale, but whatever were 
 the words that rose to his lips, he did not speak 
 them, but occupied himself with superintending the 
 pitching of the women's tents. The other litters 
 were brought, and set down with their occupants; 
 the long file of camels, some laden with baggage and 
 provisions, some bearing female slaves, kneeled down 
 to be unloaded upon the grass, anxiously craning 
 their long necks the while in the direction of the 
 stream ; the tent-pitchers set to work ; and at the last 
 another score of horsemen, who had formed the rear* 
 guard of the caravan, cantered up and joined their 
 companions who had already dismounted. With the 
 rapid skill of long practice, all did their share, and in 
 a few minutes all the immense paraphernalia of a 
 Persian encampment were spread out and disposed 
 in place for the night. Contrary to the usual habit 
 Zoroaster had not permitted the tent-pitchers and 
 other slaves to pass on while he and his charges 
 made their noonday halt ; for he feared some upris 
 ing in the neighbourhood of the city in the absence 
 of the king, and he wished to keep his whole company 
 together as a measure of safety, even at the sacrifice 
 of Nehushta's convenience. 
 
 She herself still stood apart, and haughtily turned 
 away from her serving- wo men, giving them no answer 
 
64 ZOROASTER. v 
 
 when they saluted her and offered her cushions and 
 cooling drinks. She drew her cloak more closely 
 about her and tightened her veil upon her face. She 
 was weary, disappointed, almost angry. For days 
 she had dreamed of the reception she would have at 
 the palace, of the king and of t*ie court ; of the luxury 
 of rest after her long journey, and of the thousand 
 diversions and excitements she would find in revisit 
 ing the scenes of her childhood. It was no small 
 disappointment to find herself condemned to another 
 night in camp ; and her first impulse was to blame 
 Zoroaster. 
 
 In spite of her love for him, her strong and domi 
 nating temper often chafed at his calmness, and re 
 sented the resolute superiority of his intelligence ; and 
 then, being conscious that her own dignity suffered 
 by the storms of her temper, she was even more angry 
 than before, with herself, with him, with every one. 
 But Zoroaster was as impassive as marble, saving that 
 now and then his brow flushed, and paled quickly ; 
 and his words, if he spoke at all, had a chilled icy 
 ring in them. Sooner or later, Nehushta's passionate 
 temper cooled, and she found him the same as ever, 
 devoted and gentle and loving ; then her heart went 
 out to him anew, and all her being was filled with the 
 love of him, even to overflowing. 
 
 She had been disappointed now, and would speak 
 to no one. She moved still farther from the crowd 
 of slaves and tent-pitchers, followed at a respectful 
 distance by her handmaidens, who whispered together 
 as they went; and again she stood still and looked 
 westward. 
 
ZOROASTER. 65 
 
 As the sun neared the horizon, his low rays caught 
 upon a raising cloud of dust, small and distant as the 
 smoke of a fire, in the plain towards Babylon, but 
 whirling quickly upwards. Nehushta's eye rested on 
 the far-off point, and she raised one hand to shade her 
 sight. She remembered how, when she was a girl, 
 she had watched the line of that very road from the 
 palace above, and had seen a cloud of dust arise out 
 of a mere speck, as a body of horsemen galloped into 
 view. There was no mistaking what it was. A troop 
 of horse were coming perhaps the king himself. 
 Instinctively she turned and looked for Zoroaster, and 
 started, as she saw him standing at a little distance 
 from her, with folded arms, his eyes bent on the 
 horizon. She moved towards him in sudden excite 
 ment. 
 
 " What is it ? " she asked in low tones. 
 
 "It is the Great King may he live for ever!" 
 answered Zoroaster. "None but he would ride so 
 fast along the royal road." 
 
 For a moment they stood side by side, watching 
 the dust cloud ; and as they stood, Nehushta's hand 
 stole out from her cloak and touched the warrior's 
 arm, softly, with a trembling of the fingers, as though 
 she timidly sought something she would not ask for. 
 Zoroaster turned his head and saw that her eyes were 
 moistened with tears ; he understood, but he would 
 not take her hand, for there were many slaves near, 
 besides Nehushta's kinsfolk, and he would not have 
 had them see ; but he looked on her tenderly, and on 
 a sudden, his eyes grew less sad, and the light re 
 turned in them. 
 
66 ZOROASTER. 
 
 " My beloved ! " he said softly. 
 
 "I was wrong, Zoroaster forgive me,'* she mur 
 mured. She suffered him to lead her to her tent, 
 which was already pitched ; and he left her there, 
 sitting at the door and watching his movements, 
 while he called together his men and drew them up 
 in a compact rank by the roadside, to be ready to 
 salute the king. 
 
 Nearer and nearer came the cloud; and the red 
 glow turned to purple and the sun went out of sight ; 
 and still it came nearer, that whirling cloud-canopy 
 of fine powdered dust, rising to right and left of the 
 road in vast round puffs, and hanging overhead like 
 the smoke from some great moving fire. Then, from 
 beneath it, there seemed to come a distant roar like 
 thunder, rising and falling on the silent air, but rising 
 ever louder; and a dark gleam of polished bronze, 
 with something more purple than the purple sunset, 
 took shape slowly ; then with the low roar of sound, 
 came now and then, and then more often, the clank 
 of harness and arms ; till at last, the whole stamping, 
 rushing, clanging crowd of galloping horsemen seemed 
 to emerge suddenly from the dust in a thundering 
 charge, the very earth shaking beneath their weight, 
 and the whole air vibrating to the tremendous shock 
 of pounding hoofs and the din of clashing brass. 
 
 A few lengths before the serried ranks rode one 
 man alone, a square figure, wrapped in a cloak of 
 deeper and richer purple than any worn by the ordinary 
 nobles, sitting like a rock upon a great white horse. 
 As he came up, Zoroaster and his fourscore men threw 
 up their hands. 
 
ZOROASTER. 67 
 
 " Hail, king of kings ! Hail, and live for ever ! " 
 they cried, and as one man, they prostrated them 
 selves upon their faces on the grass by the roadside. 
 
 Darius drew rein suddenly, bringing his steed from 
 his full gallop to his haunches in an instant. After 
 him the rushing riders threw up their right hands as 
 a signal to those behind ; and with a deafening con 
 cussion, as of the ocean breaking at once against a 
 wall of rock, those matchless Persian horsemen halted 
 in a body in the space of a few yards, their steeds 
 plunging wildly, rearing to their height and strug 
 gling on the curb; but helpless to advance against 
 the strong hands that held them. The blossom and 
 flower of all the Persian nobles rode there, their 
 purple mantles flying with the wild motion, their 
 bronze cuirasses black in the gathering twilight, 
 their bearded faces dark and square beneath their 
 gilded helmets. 
 
 " I am Darius, the king of kings, on whom ye call," 
 cried the king, whose steed now stood like a marble 
 statue, immovable in the middle of the road. " Rise, 
 speak and fear nothing, unless ye speak lies." 
 
 Zoroaster rose to his feet, then bent low, and taking 
 a few grains of dust from the roadside, touched his 
 mouth with his hand and let the dust fall upon his 
 forehead. 
 
 " Hail, and live for ever ! I am thy servant, Zoro 
 aster, who was captain over the fortress and treasury 
 of Ecbatana. According to thy word I have brought 
 the kinsfolk of Jehoiakim, king of Judah, chief of 
 whom is Nehushta, the princess. I heard that thou 
 wast absent from Shushan, and here I have waited for 
 
68 ZOROASTER. 
 
 thy coming. I also sent thee messengers to announce 
 that Daniel, surnamed Belteshazzar, who was Satrap 
 of Media from the time of Cambyses, is dead ; and I 
 have buried him fittingly in a new tomb in the garden 
 of the palace of Ecbatana." 
 
 Darius, quick and impulsive in every thought and 
 action, sprang to the ground as Zoroaster finished 
 speaking, and coming to him, took both his hands 
 and kissed him on both cheeks. 
 
 " What thou hast done is well done, I know thee 
 of old. Auramazda is with thee. He is also with 
 me. By his grace I have slain the rebels at Babylon. 
 They spoke lies, so I slew them. Show me Nehushta, 
 the daughter of the kings of Judah." 
 
 " I am thy servant. The princess is at hand," an 
 swered Zoroaster ; but as he spoke, he turned pale to 
 the lips. 
 
 By this time it had grown dark, and the moon, just 
 past the full, had not yet risen from behind the mound 
 of the fortress. The slaves brought torches of min 
 gled wax and fir-gum, and their black figures shone 
 strangely in the red glare, as they pressed toward the 
 door of Nehushta's tent, lighting the way for the king. 
 
 Darius strode quickly forward, his gilded harness 
 clanging as he walked, the strong flaring light illu 
 minating his bold dark features. Under the striped 
 curtain, drawn up to form the entrance of the tent, 
 stood Nehushta. She had thrown aside her veil and 
 her women had quickly placed upon her head the 
 linen tiara, where a single jewel shown like a star in 
 the white folds. Her thick black hair fell in masses 
 upon her shoulders, and her mantle was thrown back. 
 
ZOROASTER. 69 
 
 displaying the grand proportions of her figure, clad in 
 tunic and close-fitting belt. As the king came near, 
 she kneeled and prostrated herself before him, touch 
 ing her forehead to the ground, and waiting for him 
 to speak. 
 
 He stood still a full minute and his eyes flashed 
 fire, as he looked on her crouching figure, in very 
 pride that so queenly a woman should be forced to 
 kneel at his feet but more in sudden admiration of 
 her marvellous beauty. Then he bent down, and 
 took her hand and raised her to her feet. She sprang 
 up, and faced him with glowing cheeks and flashing 
 eyes ; and as she stood she was nearly as tall as he. 
 
 " I would not that a princess of thy line kneeled 
 before me," said he ; and in his voice there was a 
 strange touch of softness. " Wilt thou let me rest 
 here awhile before I go up to Shushan ? I am weary 
 of riding and thirsty from the road." 
 
 " Hail, king of the world ! I am thy servant 
 Rest thee and refresh thee here," answered Nehushta, 
 drawing back into the tent. The king beckoned to 
 Zoroaster to follow him and went in. 
 
 Darius sat upon the carved folding-chair that stood 
 in the midst of the tent by the main pole, and eagerly 
 drained the huge golden goblet of Shiraz wine which 
 Zoroaster poured for him. Then he took off his head 
 piece, and his thick, coarse hair fell in a mass of dark 
 curls to his neck, like the mane of a black lion. He 
 breathed a long breath as of relief and enjoyment of 
 well-earned repose, and leaned back in his chair, letting 
 his eyes rest on Nehushta's face as she stood before 
 him looking down to the ground. Zoroaster remained 
 
70 ZOROASTER. 
 
 on one side, holding the replenished goblet in his hand, 
 in case the king's thirst were not assuaged by a single 
 draught. 
 
 " Thou art fair, daughter of Jerusalem," said the 
 king presently. " I remember thy beauty, for I saw 
 thee in Ecbatana. I sent for thee and thy kinsfolk 
 that I might do thee honour ; and I will also fulfil 
 my words. I will take thee to be my wife." 
 
 Darius spoke quietly, in his usual tone of absolute 
 determination. But if the concentrated fury of a 
 thousand storms had suddenly broken loose in the 
 very midst of the tent, the effect could not have been 
 more terrible on his hearers. 
 
 Nehushta's face flushed suddenly, and for a moment 
 she trembled in every joint ; then she fell on her knees, 
 prostrate before the king's feet, all the wealth of her 
 splendid hair falling loose about her. Darius sat still, 
 as though watching the result of his speech. He 
 might have sat long, but in an instant, Zoroaster 
 sprang between the king and the kneeling woman; 
 and the golden goblet he had held rolled across the 
 thick carpet on the ground, while the rich red wine 
 ran in a slow stream towards the curtains of the door. 
 His face was livid and his eyes like coals of blue fire, 
 his fair locks and his long golden beard caught the 
 torchlight and shone about him like a glory, as he 
 stood up to his grand height and faced the king. 
 Darius never quailed nor moved ; his look met Zoro 
 aster's with fearless boldness. Zoroaster spoke first, 
 in low accents of concentrated fury : 
 
 "Nehushta the princess is my betrothed bride. 
 Though thou wert king of the stars as well as king of 
 the earth, thou shalt not have her for thy wife." 
 
ZOROASTEE. 71 
 
 Darius smiled, not scornfully, an honest smile of 
 amusement, as he stared at the wrathful figure of the 
 northern man before him. 
 
 " I am the king of kings," he answered. " I will 
 marry this princess of Judah to-morrow, and thee I 
 will crucify upon the highest turret of Shushan, be 
 cause thou speakest lies when thou sayest I shall not 
 marry her." 
 
 "Fool! tempt not thy God! Threaten not him 
 who is stronger than thou, lest he slay thee with his 
 hands where thou sittest." Zoroaster's voice sounded 
 low and distinct as the knell of relentless fate, and 
 his hand went out towards the king's throat. 
 
 Until this moment, Darius had sat in his indifferent 
 attitude, smiling carelessly, though never taking his 
 eye from his adversary. Brave as the bravest, he 
 scorned to move until he was attacked, and he would 
 have despised the thought of calling to his guards. 
 But when Zoroaster's hand went out to seize him, he 
 was ready. With a spring like a tiger, he flew at the 
 strong man's throat, and sought to drag him down, 
 striving to fasten his grip about the collar of his 
 cuirass, but Zoroaster slipped his hand quickly under 
 his adversary's, his sleeve went back and his long 
 white arm ran like a fetter of steel about the king's 
 neck, while his other hand gripped him by the mid 
 dle ; so they held each other like wrestlers, one arm 
 above the shoulder and one below, and strove with 
 all their might. 
 
 The king was short, but in his thick-set broad 
 shoulders and knotted arms there lurked the strength 
 of a bull and the quickness of a tiger. Zoroaster had 
 
72 ZOROASTER. 
 
 the advantage, for his right arm was round Darius's 
 neck, but while one might count a score, neither 
 moved a hairbreadth, and the blue veins stood out 
 like cords on the tall man's arm. The fiery might of 
 the southern prince was matched against the stately 
 strength of the fair northerner, whose face grew as 
 white as death, while the king's brow was purple 
 with the agony of effort. They both breathed hard 
 between their clenched teeth, but neither uttered a 
 word. 
 
 Nehushta had leaped to her feet in terror at the 
 first sign of the coming strife, but she did not cry 
 out, nor call in the slaves or guards. She stood, 
 holding the tent>-pole with one hand, and gathering 
 her mantle to her breast with the other, gazing in 
 absolute fascination at the fearful life and death 
 struggle, at the unspeakable and tremendous strength 
 so silently exerted by the two men before her. 
 
 Suddenly they moved and swayed. Darius had 
 attempted to trip Zoroaster with one foot, but slip 
 ping on the carpet wet with wine, had been bent 
 nearly double to the ground ; then by a violent effort, 
 he regained his footing. But the great exertion had 
 weakened his strength. Nehushta thought a smile 
 flickered on Zoroaster's pale face and his flashing 
 dark blue eyes met hers for a moment, and then the 
 end began. Slowly, and by imperceptible degrees, 
 Zoroaster forced the king down before him, doubling 
 him backwards with irresistible strength, till it seemed 
 as though bone and sinew and muscle must be broken 
 and torn asunder in the desperate resistance. Then, 
 at last, when his head almost touched the ground, 
 
ZOROASTER. 73 
 
 Darius groaned and his limbs relaxed. Instantly 
 Zoroaster threw him on his back and kneeled with 
 his whole weight upon his chest, the gilded scales 
 of the corselet cracking beneath the burden, and he 
 held the king's hands down on either side, pinioned 
 to the floor. Darius struggled desperately twice and 
 then lay quite still. Zoroaster gazed down upon 
 him with blazing eyes. 
 
 " Thou who wouldst crucify me upon Shushan," 
 he said through his teeth. "I will slay thee here 
 even as thou didst slay Smerdis. Hast thou any 
 thing to say ? Speak quickly, for thy hour is come." 
 
 Even in the extremity of his agony, vanquished 
 and at the point of death, Darius was brave, as brave 
 men are, to the very last. He would indeed have 
 called for help now, but there was no breath in him. 
 He still gazed fearlessly into the eyes of his terrible 
 conqueror. His voice came in a hoarse whisper. 
 
 " I fear not death. Slay on if thou wilt thou 
 hast conquered." 
 
 Nehushta had come near. She trembled now that 
 the fight was over, and looked anxiously to the heavy 
 curtains of the tent-door. 
 
 " Tell him," she whispered to Zoroaster, " that you 
 will spare him if he will do no harm to you, nor to 
 me." 
 
 " Spare him ! " echoed Zoroaster scornfully. " He 
 is almost dead now why should I spare him ? " 
 
 " For my sake, beloved," answered Nehushta, with 
 a sudden and passionate gesture of entreaty. " He is 
 the king he speaks truth; if he says he will not 
 harm you, trust him." 
 
74 ZOROASTER. 
 
 " If I slay thee not, swear thou wilt not harm me 
 nor Nehushta," said Zoroaster, removing one knee 
 from the chest of his adversary. 
 
 " By the name of Auramazda," gasped Darius, " I 
 will not harm thee nor her." 
 
 " It is well," said Zoroaster. " I will let thee go. 
 And as for taking her to be thy wife, thou mayest 
 ask her if she will wed thee," he added. He rose 
 and helped the king to his feet. Darius shook him 
 self and breathed hard for a few minutes. He felt 
 his limbs as a man might do who had fallen from his 
 horse, and then he sat down upon the chair, and 
 broke into a loud laugh. 
 
 Darius was well known to all Persia and Media 
 before the events of the last two months, and such 
 was his reputation for abiding by his promise that he 
 was universally trusted by those about him. Zoroas 
 ter had known him also, and he remembered his easy 
 familiarity and love of jesting, so that even when he 
 held the king at such vantage that he might have 
 killed him by a little additional pressure of his weight, 
 he felt not the least hesitation in accepting his prom 
 ise of safety. But remembering what a stake had 
 been played for in the desperate issue, he could not 
 join in the king's laugh. He stood silently apart, and 
 looked at Nehushta who leaned back against the tent- 
 pole in violent agitation ; her hands wringing each 
 other beneath her long sleeves, and her eyes turning 
 from the king to Zoroaster, and back again to the 
 king, in evident distress and fear. 
 
 u Thou hast a mighty arm, Zoroaster," cried Da 
 rius, as his laughter subsided, " and thou hadst well- 
 
ZOROASTER, T5 
 
 nigh made an end of the Great King and of Persia, 
 Media, Babylon and Egypt in thy grip." 
 
 " Let the king pardon his servant," answered Zo 
 roaster, " if his knee was heavy and his hand strong. 
 Had not the king slipped upon the spilt wine, his 
 servant would have been thrown down." 
 
 " And thou wouldst have been crucified at dawn," 
 added Darius, laughing again. " It is well for thee 
 that I am Darius and not Cambyses, or thou wouldst 
 not be standing there before me while my guards are 
 gossiping idly in the road. Give me a cup of wine 
 since thou hast spared my life ! " Again the king 
 laughed as though his sides would break. Zoroaster 
 hastily filled another goblet and offered it, kneeling 
 before the monarch. Darius paused before he took 
 the cup, and looked at the kneeling warrior's pale 
 proud face. Then he spoke and his voice dropped 
 to a less mirthful key, as he laid his hand on Zo 
 roaster's shoulder. 
 
 " I love thee, prince," he said, " because thou art 
 stronger than I ; and as brave and more merciful. 
 Therefore shalt thou stand ever at my right hand 
 and I will trust thee with my life in thy hand. And 
 in pledge hereunto I put my own chain of gold about 
 thy neck, and I drink this cup to thee ; and whoso 
 ever shall harm a hair of thine head shall perish in 
 torments." 
 
 The king drank; and Zoroaster, overcome with 
 genuine admiration of the great soul that could so 
 easily forgive so dire an offence, bent and embraced 
 the king's knees in token of adherence, and as a seal 
 of that friendship which was never to be broken until 
 death parted the two men asunder. 
 
76 ZOROASTER. 
 
 Then they arose, and at Zoroaster's order, the 
 princess's litter was brought, and leaving the en 
 campment to follow after them, they went up to the 
 palace. Nehushta was borne between the litters of 
 her women and her slaves on foot, but Zoroaster 
 mounted his horse and rode slowly and in silence by 
 the right side of the Great King. 
 
ZOROASTER. 77 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ATHWART the gleaming colonnades of the eastern 
 balcony, the early morning sun shone brightly, and 
 all the shadows of the white marble cornices and 
 capitals and jutting frieze work were blue with the 
 reflection of the cloudless sky. The swallows now 
 and then shot in under the overhanging roof and 
 flew up and down the covered terrace ; then with a 
 quick rush, they sped forth again into the dancing 
 sunshine with clean sudden sweep, as when a sharp 
 sword is whirled in the air. Far below, the soft mist 
 of the dawn still lay upon the city, whence the dis 
 tant cries of the water-carriers and fruitsellers came 
 echoing up from the waking streets, the call of the 
 women to one another from the housetops, and now 
 and then the neighing of a horse far out upon the 
 meadows ; while the fleet swallows circled over all in 
 swift wide curves, with a silvery fresh stream of un 
 ceasing twittering music. 
 
 Zoroaster paced the balcony alone. He was fully 
 armed, with his helmet upon his head ; the crest of 
 the winged wheels was replaced by the ensign Darius 
 had chosen for himself, the half-figure of a likeness 
 of the king with long straight wings on either side, 
 of wrought gold and very fine workmanship. The 
 long purple mantle hung to his heels and the royal 
 chain of gold was about his neck. As he walked the 
 
78 ZOROASTER. 
 
 gilded leather of his shoes was reflected in the pol 
 ished marble pavement and he trod cautiously, for 
 the clean surface was slippery as the face of a mirror. 
 At one end of the terrace a stairway led down to the 
 lower story of the palace, and at the other end a high 
 square door was masked by a heavy curtain of rich 
 purple and gold stuff, that fell in thick folds to the 
 glassy floor. Each time his walk brought him to this 
 end Zoroaster paused, as though expecting that some 
 one should come out. But as it generally happens 
 when a man is waiting for something or some one 
 that the object or person appears unexpectedly, so it 
 occurred that as he turned back from the staircase 
 towards the curtain, he saw that some one had already 
 advanced half the length of the balcony to meet 
 him and it was not the person for whom he was 
 looking. 
 
 At first, he was dazzled for a moment, but his 
 memory served him instantly and he recognised the 
 face and form of a woman he had known and often 
 seen before. She was not tall, but so perfectly pro 
 portioned that it was impossible to wish that she were 
 taller. Her close tunic of palest blue, bordered with 
 a gold embroidery at the neck, betrayed the matchless 
 symmetry of her figure, the unspeakable grace of de 
 velopment of a woman in the fullest bloom of beauty. 
 From her knees to her feet, her under tunic showed 
 the purple and white bands that none but the king 
 might wear, and which even for the queen was an un 
 due assumption of the royal insignia. But Zoroaster 
 did not look at her dress, nor at her mantle of royal 
 gea-purple, nor at the marvellous white hands that 
 
ZOROASTER. 79 
 
 held together a written scroll. His eyes rested on 
 her face, and he stood still where he was. 
 
 He knew those straight and perfect features, not 
 large nor heavy, but of such rare mould and faultless 
 type as man has not seen since, neither will see. The 
 perfect curve of the fresh mouth , the white forward 
 chin with its sunk depression in the midst , the deep- 
 set, blue eyes and the straight pencilled brows ; the 
 broad smooth forehead and the tiny ear half hidden 
 in the glory of sun-golden hair ; the milk-white skin 
 just tinged with the faint rose-light that never 
 changed or reddened in heat or cold, in anger or 
 in joy he knew them all ; the features of royal 
 Cyrus made soft and womanly in substance, but 
 unchanging still and faultlessly cold in his great 
 daughter Atossa, the child of kings, the wife of 
 kings, the mother of kings. 
 
 The heavy curtains had fallen together behind her, 
 and she came forward alone. She had seen Zoroaster 
 before he had seen her, and she moved on without 
 showing any surprise, the heels of her small golden 
 shoes clicking sharply on the polished floor. Zoroaster 
 remained standing for a moment, and then, removing 
 his helmet in salutation, went to one side of the head 
 of the staircase and waited respectfully for the queen 
 to pass. As she came on, passing alternately through 
 the shadow cast by the columns, and the sunlight 
 that blazed between, her advancing figure flashed 
 with a new illumination at every step. She made as 
 though she were going straight on, but as she passed 
 over the threshold to the staircase, she suddenly 
 stopped and turned half round, and looked straight 
 at Zoroaster. 
 
80 ZOROASTER. 
 
 "Thou art Zoroaster," she said in a smooth and 
 musical voice, like the ripple of a clear stream flowing 
 through summer meadows. 
 
 " I am Zoroaster, thy servant," he answered, bowing 
 his head. He spoke very coldly. 
 
 " I remember thee well," said the queen, lingering 
 by the head of the staircase. " Thou art little changed, 
 saving that thou art stronger, I should' think, and more 
 of a soldier than formerly." 
 
 Zoroaster stood turning his polished helmet in his 
 hands, but he answered nothing ; he cared little for 
 the queen's praises. But she, it seemed, was desirous 
 of pleasing him in proportion as he was less anxious 
 to be pleased, for she turned again and walked for 
 ward upon the terrace. 
 
 " Come into the sunlight the morning air is cold," 
 she said, "I would speak with thee awhile." 
 
 A carved chair stood in a corner of the balcony. 
 Zoroaster moved it into the sunshine, and Atossa sat 
 down, smiling her thanks to him, while he stood lean 
 ing against the balustrade, a magnificent figure as 
 the light caught his gilded harness and gold neck- 
 chain, and played on his long fair beard and nestled 
 in the folds of his purple mantle. 
 
 " Tell me you came last night? " she asked, spread 
 ing her dainty hands in the sunshine as though to 
 warm them. She never feared the sun, for he was 
 friendly to her nativity and never seemed to scorch 
 her fair skin like that of meaner women. 
 
 "Thy servant came last night," answered the 
 prince. 
 
 "Bringing Nehushta and the other Hebrews?" 
 added the queen. 
 
ZOROASTER. 81 
 
 Even so." 
 
 "Tell me something of this Nehushta," said Atossa. 
 She had dropped into a more familiar form of speech. 
 But Zoroaster was careful of his words and never 
 allowed his language to relapse from the distant form 
 of address of a subject to his sovereign. 
 
 " The queen knoweth her. She was here as a young 
 child a few years since," he replied. He chose to 
 let Atossa ask questions for all the information she 
 needed. 
 
 " It is so long ago," she said, with a little sigh. " Is 
 she fair?" 
 
 "Nay, she is dark, after the manner of the 
 Hebrews." 
 
 " And the Persians too," she interrupted. 
 
 " She is very beautiful," continued Zoroaster. " She 
 is very tall." Atossa looked up quickly with a smile. 
 She was not tall herself, with all her beauty. 
 
 " You admire tall women ? " 
 
 "Yes," said Zoroaster calmly well knowing what 
 he said. He did not wish to flatter the queen ; and 
 besides he knew her too well to do so if he wished to 
 please her. She was one of those women who are not 
 accustomed to doubt their own superiority over the 
 rest of their sex. 
 
 "Then you admire this Hebrew princess?" said 
 she, and paused for an answer. But her companion 
 was as cold and calm as she. Seeing himself directly 
 pressed by a suspicion, he changed his tactics and 
 flattered Atossa for the sake of putting a stop to her 
 questions. 
 
 " Height is not of itself beauty," he answered with 
 
82 ZOROASTER. 
 
 a courteous smile. " There is a kind of beauty which 
 no height can improve, a perfection which needs 
 not to be set high for all men to acknowledge it." 
 
 The queen simply took no notice of the compli 
 ment, but it had its desired effect, for she changed 
 the tone of her talk a little, speaking more seriously. 
 
 " Where is she ? I will go and see her," she said. 
 
 "She rested last night in the upper chambers in 
 the southern part of the palace. Thy servant will 
 bid her come if it be thy desire." 
 
 " Presently, presently," answered the queen. " It 
 is yet early, and she was doubtless weary of the 
 journey." 
 
 There was a pause. Zoroaster looked down at the 
 beautiful queen as she sat beside him, and wondered 
 whether she had changed ; and as he gazed, he fell to 
 comparing her beauty with Nehushta's, and his glance 
 grew more intent than he had meant it should be, so 
 that Atossa looked up suddenly and met his eyes rest 
 ing on her face. 
 
 " It is long since we have met, Zoroaster," she said 
 quickly. " Tell me of your life in that wild fortress. 
 You have prospered in your profession of arms you 
 wear the royal chain." She put up her hand and 
 touched the links as though to feel them. " Indeed 
 it is very like the chain Darius wore when he went to 
 Babylon the other day." She paused a moment as 
 though trying to recall something; then continued: 
 " Yes now I think of it, he had no chain when he 
 came back. It is his of course why has he given 
 It to you?" Her tones had a tinge of uncertainty 
 in the question, half imperious, as demanding an 
 
ZOROASTER. 83 
 
 answer, half persuading, as though not sure the 
 answer would be given. Zoroaster remembered that 
 intonation of her sweet voice, and he smiled in his 
 beard. 
 
 " Indeed," he answered, " the Great King who liveth 
 for ever, put this chain about my neck with his own 
 hands last night, when he halted by the roadside, as a 
 reward, I presume, for certain qualities he believeth 
 his servant Zoroaster to possess." 
 
 " Qualities what qualities ? " 
 
 " Nay, the queen cannot expect me to sing faith 
 fully my own praises. Nevertheless, I am ready to 
 die for the Great King. He knoweth that I am. 
 May he live for ever ! " 
 
 " It may be that one of the qualities was the suc 
 cessful performance of the extremely difficult task 
 you have lately accomplished," said Atossa, with a 
 touch of scorn. 
 
 " A task ? " repeated Zoroaster. 
 
 " Yes have you not brought a handful of Hebrew 
 women all the way from Ecbatana to Shushan, 
 through numberless dangers and difficulties, safe and 
 sound, and so carefully prudent of their comfort that 
 they are not even weary, nor have they once hungered 
 or thirsted by the way, nor lost the smallest box of 
 perfume, nor the tiniest of their golden hair-pins? 
 Surely you have deserved to have a royal chain hung 
 about your neck and to be called the king's friend." 
 
 " The reward was doubtless greater than my desert. 
 It was no great feat of arms that I had to perform ; 
 and yet, in these days a man may leave Media under 
 
 one king, and reach Shushan under another. The 
 Vol. 6 O 
 
84 ZOROASTER. 
 
 queen knoweth better than any one what sudden 
 changes may take place in the empire," answered 
 Zoroaster, looking calmly into her face as he stood ; 
 and she who had been the wife of Cambyses and the 
 wife of the murdered Gomata-Smerdis, and who was 
 now the wife of Darius, looked down and was silent, 
 turning over in her beautiful hands the sealed scroll 
 she bore. 
 
 The sun had risen higher while they talked, and 
 his rays were growing hot in the clear air. The mist 
 had lifted from the city below, and all the streets and 
 open places were alive with noisy buyers and sellers, 
 whose loud talking and disputing came up in a con 
 tinuous hum to the palace on the hill, like the drone 
 of a swarm of bees. The queen rose from her seat. 
 
 " It is too warm here," she said, and she once more 
 moved toward the stairway. Zoroaster followed her 
 respectfully, still holding his helmet in his hand. 
 Atossa did not speak till she reached the threshold. 
 Then, as Zoroaster bowed low before her, she paused 
 and looked at him with her clear, deep-blue eyes. 
 
 " You have grown very formal in four years," she 
 said softly. " You used to be more outspoken and 
 less of a courtier. I am not changed we must be 
 friends as we were formerly." 
 
 Zoroaster hesitated a moment before he answered: 
 
 " I am the Great King's man," he said slowly. " I 
 am, therefore, also the queen's servant." 
 
 Atossa raised her delicate eyebrows a little and a 
 shade of annoyance passed for the first time over her 
 perfect face, which gave her a look of sternness. 
 
 "I am the queen," she said coldly. "The king 
 
ZOROASTER. 85 
 
 may take other wives, but 1 am the queen. Take 
 heed that you be indeed my servant." Then, as she 
 gathered her mantle about her and put one foot upon 
 the stairs, she touched his shoulder gently with the 
 tips of her fingers and added with a sudden smile, 
 " And I will be your friend." So she passed down 
 the stairs out of sight, leaving Zoroaster alone. 
 
 Slowly he paced the terrace again, reflecting pro 
 foundly upon his situation. Indeed he had no small 
 cause for anxiety ; it was evident that the queen sus 
 pected his love for Nehushta, and he was more than 
 half convinced that there were reasons why such an 
 affection would inevitably meet with her disapproval. 
 In former days, before she was married to Cambyses, 
 and afterwards, before Zoroaster had been sent into 
 Media, Atossa had shown so marked a liking for him, 
 that a man more acquainted with the world, would 
 have guessed that she loved him. He had riot sus 
 pected such a thing, but with a keen perception of 
 character, he had understood that beneath the beauti 
 ful features and the frank gentleness of the young 
 princess, there lurked a profound intelligence, an 
 unbending ambition and a cold selfishness without 
 equal ; he had mistrusted her, but he had humoured 
 her caprices and been in truth a good friend to her, 
 without in the least wishing to accept her friendship 
 for himself in return. He was but a young captain 
 of five hundred then, although he was the favourite 
 of the court ; but his strong arm was dreaded as well 
 as the cutting force of his replies when questioned, 
 and no word of the court gossip had therefore reached 
 his ears concerning Atossa's admiration for him. It 
 
86 ZOROASTER. 
 
 was, moreover, so evident that he cared nothing for 
 her beyond the most unaffected friendliness, that her 
 disappointment in not moving his heart was a con 
 stant source of satisfaction to her enemies. There 
 had reigned in those days a great and unbridled 
 license in the court, and the fact of the daughter of 
 Cyrus loving and being loved by the handsomest of 
 the king's guards, would not of itself have attracted 
 overmuch notice. But the evident innocence of 
 Zoroaster in the whole affair, and the masterly 
 fashion in which Atossa concealed her anger, if she 
 felt any, caused the matter to be completely for 
 gotten as soon as Zoroaster left Shushan, and events 
 had, since then, succeeded each other too rapidly to 
 give the courtiers leisure for gossiping about old 
 scandals. The isolation in which Gomata had lived 
 during the seven months while he maintained the 
 popular impression that he was not Gomata-Smerdis, 
 but Smerdis the brother of Cambyses, had broken up 
 the court ; and the strong, manly character of Darius 
 had checked the license of the nobles suddenly, as a 
 horse-breaker brings up an unbroken colt by flinging 
 the noose about his neck. The king permitted that 
 the ancient custom of marrying as many as foui 
 wives should be maintained, and he himself soon set 
 an example by so doing ; but he had determined thai 
 the whole corrupt fabric of court life should be shat 
 tered at one blow ; and with his usual intrepid dis 
 regard of consequences and his iron determination to 
 maintain his opinions, he had suffered no contradic 
 tion of his will. He had married Atossa, in the 
 first place, because she was the most beautiful woman 
 
ZOROASTER. 87 
 
 in Persia; and secondly, because he comprehended 
 her great intelligence and capacity for affairs, and 
 believed himself able to make use of her at his 
 pleasure. As for Atossa herself, she had not hesi 
 tated a moment in concurring in the marriage, she 
 had ruled her former husbands, and she would rule 
 Darius in like manner, she thought, to her own com 
 plete aggrandisement and in tlje face of all rivals. As 
 yet, the king had taken no second wife, although he 
 looked with growing admiration upon the maiden 
 Artystone*, who was then but fifteen years of age, 
 the youngest daughter of Cyrus and own sister to 
 Atossa. 
 
 All this Zoroaster knew, and he recognised also 
 from the meeting he had just had with the queen, 
 that she was desirous of maintaining her friendship 
 with himself. But since the violent scene of the pre 
 vious night, he had determined to be the king's man 
 in truest loyalty, and he feared lest Atossa's plans 
 might, before long, cross her husband's. Therefore 
 he accepted her offer of friendship coldly, and treated 
 her with the most formal courtesy. On the other 
 hand, he understood well enough that if she resented 
 his manner of acting towards her, and ascertained that 
 he really loved Nehushta, it would be in her power to 
 produce difficulties and complications which he would 
 have every cause for fearing. She would certainly 
 discover the king's admiration for Nehushta. Darius 
 was a man almost incapable of concealment; with 
 whom to think was to act instantly and without hesi 
 tation. He generally acted rightly, for his instincts 
 were noble and kingly, and his heart as honest and 
 
88 ZOROASTER. 
 
 open as the very light of day. He said what he 
 thought and instantly fulfilled his words. He hated 
 a lie as poison, and the only untruth he had ever been 
 guilty of was told when, in order to gain access to the 
 dwelling of the false Smerdis, he had declared to the 
 guards that he brought news of importance from his 
 father. He had justified this falsehood by the most 
 elaborate and logical apology to his companions, the 
 six princes, and had explained that he only lied for 
 the purpose of saving Persia ; and when the lot fell 
 to himself to assume the royal authority, he fulfilled 
 most amply every promise he had given of freeing the 
 country from tyranny, religious despotism and, gen 
 erally, from what he termed " lies." As for the kill 
 ing of Gomata-Smerdis, it was an act of public justice, 
 approved by all sensible persons as soon as it was 
 known by what frauds that impostor had seized the 
 kingdom. 
 
 With regard to Atossa, Darius had abstained from 
 asking her questions about her seven months of 
 marriage with the usurper. She must have known 
 well enough who the man was, but Darius understood 
 her character well enough to know that she would 
 marry whomsoever she saw in the chief place, and 
 that her counsel and courage would be of inestimable 
 advantage to a ruler. She herself never mentioned 
 the past events to the king, knowing his hatred of lies 
 on the one hand, and that on the other, the plain truth 
 would redound to her discredit. He had given her to 
 understand as much from the first, telling her that he 
 took her for what she was, and not for what she had 
 been. Her mind was at rest about the past, and as 
 
ZOROASTER. 89 
 
 for the future, she promised herself her full share in 
 her husband's success, should he succeed, and un 
 bounded liberty in the choice of his successor, should 
 he fail. 
 
 But all these considerations did not tend to clear 
 Zoroaster's vision in regard to his own future. He 
 saw himself already placed in a position of extreme 
 difficulty between Nehushta and the king. On the 
 other hand, he dreaded lest he should before long fall 
 into disgrace with the king on account of Atossa's 
 treatment of himself, or incur Atossa's displeasure 
 through the great favour he received from Darius. 
 He knew the queen to be an ambitious woman, capa 
 ble of the wildest conceptions, and possessed of the 
 utmost skill for their execution. 
 
 He longed to see Nehushta and talk with her at 
 once, to tell her many things and to warn her of 
 many possibilities; above all, he desired to discuss 
 with her the scene of the previous night and the 
 strangely sudden determination the king had expressed 
 to make her his wife. 
 
 But he could not leave his post. His orders had 
 been to await the king in the morning upon the east 
 ern terrace ; and there he must abide until it pleased 
 Darius to come forth ; and he knew Nehushta would 
 not venture down into that part of the palace. He 
 wondered that the king did not come, and he chafed 
 at the delay as he saw the sun rising higher and higher, 
 and the shadows deepening in the terrace. Weary 
 of waiting he sat down at last upon the chair where 
 Atossa had rested, and folded his hands over his sword- 
 hilt, resigning himself to the situation with the 
 philosophy of a trained soldier- 
 
90 ZOEOASTEE. 
 
 Sitting thus alone, he fell to dreaming. As he 
 gazed out at the bright sky, he forgot his life and 
 his love, and all things of the present ; and his mind 
 wandered away among the thoughts most natural and 
 most congenial to his profound intellect. His atten 
 tion became fixed in the contemplation of a larger 
 dimension of intelligences, the veil of darkness 
 parted a little, and for a time he saw clearly in the 
 light of a Greater Universe. 
 
ZOROASTER. 91 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 ATOSSA quitted the terrace where she had been 
 talking with Zoroaster, in the full intention of re 
 turning speedily, but as she descended the steps, a 
 plan formed itself in her mind, which she determined 
 to put into immediate execution. Instead, therefore, 
 of pursuing her way into the portico of the inner 
 court, when she reached the foot of the staircase, she 
 turned into a narrow passage that led into a long 
 corridor, lighted only by occasional small openings 
 in the wall. A little door gave access to this cov 
 ered way, and when she entered, she closed it behind 
 her, and tried to fasten it. But the bolt was rusty, 
 and in order to draw it, she laid down the scroll she 
 carried, upon a narrow stone seat by the side of the 
 door ; and then, with a strong effort of both her small 
 white hands,- she succeeded in moving the lock into 
 its place. Then she turned quickly and hastened 
 down the dusky corridor. At the -opposite end a 
 small winding stair led upwards into darkness. There 
 were stains upon the lowest steps, just visible in the 
 half light. Atossa gathered up her mantle and her 
 under tunic, and trod daintily, with a look of repug 
 nance on her beautiful face. The stains were made 
 by the blood of the false Smerdis, her last husband, 
 slain in that dark stairway by Darius, scarcely three 
 months before. 
 
92 ZOROASTEK. 
 
 Cautiously the queen felt her way upward till she 
 reached a landing, where a narrow aperture admitted 
 a little light. Higher up there were windows, and 
 she looked carefully to her dress, and brushed away 
 a little dust that her mantle had swept from the wall 
 in passing; and once or twice, she looked back at 
 the dark staircase with an expression of something 
 akin to disgust. At last she reached a door which 
 opened upon a terrace, much like the one where she 
 had left Zoroaster a few moments before, saving that 
 the floor was less polished, and that the spaces be 
 tween the columns were half rilled with hanging 
 plants and creepers. Upon the pavement at one end 
 were spread rich carpets, and half a dozen enormous 
 cushions of soft-coloured silk were thrown negligently 
 one upon the other. Three doors, hung with curtains, 
 opened upon the balcony, and near to the middle 
 one, two slave-girls, clad in white, crouched upon 
 their heels and talked in an undertone. 
 
 Atossa stepped forward upon the marble, and the 
 rustle of her dress and the quick short sound of her 
 heeled shoes, roused the two slave-girls to spring to 
 their feet. They did not know the queen, but they 
 thought it best to make a low obeisance, while their 
 dark eyes endeavoured quickly to scan the details of 
 her dress, without exhibiting too much boldness. 
 Atossa beckoned to one of them to come to her, 
 and smiled graciously as the dark-skinned girl 
 approached. 
 
 " Is not thy mistress Nehushta ? " she inquired ; 
 but the girl looked stupidly at her, not comprehend 
 ing her speech. " Nehushta," repeated the queen. 
 
ZOROASTER. 93 
 
 pronouncing the name very distinctly with a ques 
 tioning intonation, and pointing to the curtained 
 door. The slave understood the name and the ques 
 tion, and quick as thought, she disappeared within, 
 leaving Atossa in some hesitation. She had not in 
 tended to send for the Hebrew princess, for she 
 thought it would be a greater compliment to leC 
 Nehushta find her waiting ; but since the barbarian 
 slave had gone to call her mistress, there was nothing 
 to be done but to abide the result. 
 
 Nehushta, however, seemed in no hurry to an 
 swer the summons, for the queen had ample time to 
 examine the terrace, and to glance through the hang 
 ing plants at the sunlit meadows and the flowing 
 stream to southward, before she heard steps behind 
 the curtain, and saw it lifted to allow the princess to 
 pass. 
 
 The dark maiden was now fully refreshed and 
 rested from the journey, and she came forward to 
 greet her guest in her tunic, without her mantle, a 
 cloud of soft white Indian gauze loosely pinned upon 
 her black hair and half covering her neck. Her 
 bodice-like belt was of scarlet and gold, and from one 
 side there hung a rich-hilted knife of Indian steel in 
 a jewelled sheath. The long sleeves of her tunic 
 were drawn upon her arms into hundreds of minute 
 folds, and where the delicate stuff hung in an oblong 
 lappet over her hands, there was fine needlework 
 and embroidery of gold. She moved easily, with a 
 languid grace of secure motion ; and she bent her 
 head a little as Atossa came quickly to meet her. 
 
 The queen's frank smile was on her face as she 
 
94 ZOROASTER. 
 
 grasped both Nehushta's hands in cordial welcome, 
 and for a moment, the two women looked into each 
 other's eyes. Nehushta had made up her mind to hate 
 Atossa from the first, but she did not belong to that 
 class of women who allow their feelings to show 
 themselves, and afterwards feel bound by the mem 
 ory of what they have shown. She, too, smiled most 
 sweetly as she surveyed the beautiful fair queen 
 from beneath her long drooping lids, and examined 
 her appearance with all possible minuteness. She 
 remembered her well enough, but so warm was the 
 welcome she received, that she almost thought she 
 had misjudged Atossa in calling her hard and cold. 
 She drew her guest to the cushions upon the carpets, 
 and they sat down side by side. 
 
 " I have been talking about you already this morn 
 ing, my princess," began Atossa, speaking at once in 
 familiar terms, as though she were conversing with 
 an intimate friend. Nehushta was very proud; she 
 knew herself to be of a race as royal as Atossa, 
 though now almost extinct ; and in answering, she 
 spoke in the same manner as the queen ; so that the 
 latter was inwardly amused at the self-confidence of 
 the Hebrew princess. 
 
 "Indeed?" said Nehushta, "there must be far 
 more interesting things than I in Shushan. I would 
 have talked of you had I found any one to talk 
 with." 
 
 The queen laughed a little. 
 
 " As I was coming out this morning, I met an old 
 friend of mine upon the balcony before the king's 
 apartment, Zoroaster, the handsome captain. We 
 
ZOROASTER. 95 
 
 fell into conversation, How handsome he has grown 
 since I saw him last ! " The queen watched Nehushta 
 closely while affecting the greatest unconcern, and 
 she thought the shadows about the princess's eyes 
 turned a shade darker at the mention of the brilliant 
 warrior. But Nehushta answered calmly enough : 
 
 " He took the most excellent care of us. I should 
 like to see him to-day, to thank him for all he did. I 
 was tired last night and must have seemed ungrate 
 ful." 
 
 "What need is there of ever telling men we are 
 grateful for what they do for us ? " returned the 
 queen. " I should think there were not a noble in the 
 Great King's guard who would not give his right 
 hand to take care of you for a month, even if you 
 never so much as noticed his existence." 
 
 Nehushta laughed lightly at the compliment. 
 
 " You honour me too much," she said, " but I sup 
 pose it is because most women think as you do that 
 men call us so ungrateful. I think you judge from 
 the standpoint of the queen, whereas I " 
 
 " Whereas you look at things from the position of 
 the beautiful princess, who is worshipped for herself 
 alone, and not for the bounty and favour she may, or 
 may not, dispense to her subjects." 
 
 " The queen is dispensing much bounty and fa 
 vour to one of her subjects at this very moment," 
 answered Nehushta quietly, as though deprecating 
 further flattery. 
 
 " How glad you must be to have left that dreadful 
 fortress at last ! " cried the queen sympathetically. 
 " My father used to go there every summer. I hated 
 
96 ZOROASTER. 
 
 the miserable place, with those tiresome mountains 
 and those endless gardens without the least variety 
 in them. You must be very glad to have come 
 here!" 
 
 "It is true," replied Nehushta, "I never ceased to 
 dream of Shushan. I love the great city, and the 
 people, and the court. I thought sometimes that I 
 should have died of the weariness of Ecbatana. The 
 winters were unbearable ! " 
 
 " You must learn to love us, too," said Atossa, very 
 sweetly. " The Great King wishes well to your race, 
 and will certainly do much for your country. There 
 is, moreover, a kinsman of yours, who is coming soon, 
 expressly to confer with the king concerning the fur 
 ther rebuilding of the temple and the city of Jeru 
 salem." 
 
 " Zorobabel ? " asked Nehushta, quickly. 
 
 "Yes that is his name, I believe. Do you say 
 Zerub-Ebel, or Zerub-Abel ? I know nothing of your 
 language." 
 
 "His name is Zorob-Abel," answered Nehushta. 
 " Oh, I wish he might persuade the Great King to do 
 something for my people ! Your father would have 
 done so much if he had lived." 
 
 " Doubtless the Great King will do all that is pos 
 sible for establishing the Hebrews and promoting 
 their welfare," said the queen ; but a distant look in 
 her eyes showed that her thoughts were no longer con 
 centrated on the subject. " Your friend Zoroaster," 
 she added presently, " could be of great service to you 
 and your cause, if he wished." 
 
 " I would that he were a Hebrew ! " exclaimed 
 
ZOROASTER. 97 
 
 Nehushta, with a little sigh, which did not escape 
 Atossa. 
 
 u Is he not ? I always thought that he had secretly 
 embraced your faith. With his love of study and 
 with his ideas, it seemed so natural." 
 
 " No," replied Nehushta, " he is not one of us, nor 
 will he ever be. After all, though, it is perhaps of 
 little moment what one believes when one is so just 
 as he." 
 
 " I have never been able to understand the impor 
 tance of religion," said the beautiful queen, spreading 
 her white hand upon the purple of her mantle, and 
 contemplating its delicate outline tenderly. "For 
 my own part, I am fond of the sacrifices and the mu 
 sic and the chants. I love to see the priests go up to 
 the altar, two and two, in their white robes, and 
 then to see how they struggle to hold up the bullock's 
 head, so that his eyes may see the sun, and how 
 the red blood gushes out like a beautiful fountain. 
 Have you ever seen a great sacrifice ? " 
 
 " Oh yes ! I remember when I was quite a little 
 girl, when Cambyses I mean when the king came 
 to the throne it was magnificent ! " Nehushta was 
 not used to hesitate in her speech, but as she recalled 
 the day when Cambyses was made king, it suddenly 
 came over her that any reminiscences of the past might 
 be painful to the extraordinary woman by her side. 
 But Atossa showed no signs of being disturbed. On 
 the contrary, she smiled more sweetly than ever, 
 though there was perhaps a slight affectation of sad 
 ness in her voice as she answered : 
 
 " Do not fear to hurt me by referring to those times, 
 
98 ZOROASTER. 
 
 dear princess. I am accustomed to speak of them well 
 enough. Yes, indeed I remember that great day, 
 with the bright sun shining upon the procession, and 
 the cars with four horses that they dedicated to the 
 sun, and the milk-white horse that they slaughtered 
 upon the steps of the temple. How I cried for him, 
 poor beast ! It seemed so cruel to sacrifice a horse ! 
 Even a few black slaves would have been a more 
 natural offering, or a couple of Scythians." 
 
 " I remember," said Nehushta, somewhat relieved 
 at the queen's tone. " Of course I have now and 
 then seen processions in Ecbatana, but Daniel would 
 not let me go to the temple. They say Ecbatana is 
 very much changed since the Great King has not gone 
 there in summer. It is very quiet it is given over 
 to horse-merchants and grain-sellers, and they bring 
 all the salted fish there from the Hyrcanian sea, so 
 that some of the streets smell horribly." 
 
 Atossa laughed at the description, more out of 
 courtesy than because it amused her. 
 
 " In my time," she answered, " the horse-market was 
 in the meadow by the road toward Zagros, and the 
 fish-sellers were not allowed to come within a f arsang 
 of the city. The royal nostrils were delicate. But 
 everything is changed here, everywhere. We have 
 had several revolutions religious ones, I mean of 
 course, and so many people have been killed that there 
 is a savour of death in the air. It is amazing how 
 much trouble people will give themselves about the 
 question of sacrificing a horse to the sun, or a calf to 
 Auramazda, or an Ethiopian to Nabon or Ashtaroth ! 
 And these Magians! They are really no more de- 
 
ZOROASTER. 9$ 
 
 ecendants of the priests in the Aryan home than I am 
 a Greek, Half of them are nearly black they are 
 Hindus and speak Persian with an accent. They be 
 lieve in a vast number of gods of all sizes and descrip 
 tions, and they sing hymns, in which they say that all 
 these gods are the same. It is most confusing, and 
 as the principal part of their chief sacrifice consists in 
 making themselves exceedingly drunk with the detest 
 able milkweed juice of which they are so fond, the 
 performance is disgusting. The Great King began 
 by saying that if they wished to sacrifice to their dei 
 ties, they might do so, provided no one could find 
 them doing it ; and if they wished to be drunk, they 
 might be drunk when and where they pleased ; but 
 that if they did the two together, he would crucify 
 every Magian in Persia. His argument was very 
 amusing. He said that a man who is drunk naturally 
 speaks the truth, whereas a man who sacrifices to 
 false gods inevitably tells lies ; wherefore a man who 
 sacrifices to false gods when he is drunk, runs the 
 risk of telling lies and speaking the truth at the same 
 time, and is consequently a creature revolting to logic, 
 and must be immediately destroyed for the good of 
 the whole race of mankind." 
 
 Nehushta had listened with varying attention to 
 the queen's account of the religious difficulties in the 
 kingdom, and she laughed at the Megoeric puzzle by 
 which Darius justified the death of the Magians. But 
 in her heart she longed to see Zoroaster, and was 
 weary of entertaining her royal guest. By way of 
 diversion she clapped her hands, and ordered tha 
 slaves who came at her summons to bring sweetmeats 
 and sherbet of crushed fruit and snow. 
 
100 ZOROASTER. 
 
 "Are you fond of hunting?" asked Atossa, deli 
 cately taking a little piece of white fig-paste. 
 
 "I have never been allowed to hunt," answered 
 Nehushta. " Besides, it must be very tiring." 
 
 " I delight in it the fig-paste is not so good as it 
 used to be there is a new confectioner. Darius 
 considered that the former one had religious convic 
 tions involving the telling of lies and this is the 
 result ! We are fallen low indeed when we cannot 
 eat a Magian's pastry ! I am passionately fond of 
 hunting, but it is far from here to the desert and the 
 lions are scarce. Besides, the men who are fit for 
 lion-hunting are generally engaged in hunting their 
 fellow-creatures." 
 
 " Does the Great King hunt ? " inquired Nehushta, 
 languidly sipping her sherbet from a green jade gob 
 let, as she lay among her cushions, supporting herself 
 upon one elbow. 
 
 " Whenever he has leisure. He will talk of nothing 
 else to you " 
 
 " Surely," interrupted Nehushta, with an air of per 
 fect innocence, " I shall not be so far honoured as that 
 the Great King should talk with me ? " 
 
 Atossa raised her blue eyes and looked curiously at 
 the dark princess. She knew nothing of what had 
 passed the night before, save that the king had seen 
 Nehushta for a few moments, but she knew his char 
 acter well enough to imagine that his frank and, as 
 she thought, undignified manner might have struck 
 Nehushta even in that brief interview. The idea that 
 the princess was already deceiving her flashed across 
 her mind. She smiled more tenderly than ever, with 
 
ZOROASTER, 101 
 
 a little added air of sadness that gave her a wonderful 
 charm. 
 
 " Yes, the Great King is very gracious to the ladies 
 of the court," she said. " You are so beautiful and so 
 different from them all that he will certainly talk long 
 with you after the banquet this evening when he has 
 drunk much wine." The last words were added with 
 a most special sweetness of tone. 
 
 Nehushta's face flushed a little as she drank more 
 sherbet before she answered. Then, letting her soft 
 dark eyes rest, as though in admiration, upon the 
 queen's face, she spoke in a tone of gentle depre 
 cation : 
 
 "Shall a man prefer the darkness of night to the 
 
 glories of risen day? 
 
 Or shall a man turn from the lilies to pluck the 
 lowly flower of the field ? " 
 
 "You know our poets, too?" exclaimed Atossa, 
 pleased with the graceful tone of the compliment, but 
 still looking at Nehushta with curious eyes. There 
 was a self-possession about the Hebrew princess that 
 she did not like ; it was as though some one had sud 
 denly taken a quality of her own and made it theirs 
 and displayed it before her eyes. There was indeed 
 this difference, that while Atossa's calm and undis 
 turbed manner was generally real, Nehushta's was as 
 sumed, and she herself felt that, at any moment, it 
 might desert her at her utmost need. 
 
 " So you know our poets ? " repeated the queen, and 
 this time she laughed lightly. " Indeed I fear the 
 king will talk to you more than ever, for he loves 
 
102 ZOROASTER. 
 
 poetry. I daresay Zoroaster, too, has repeated many 
 verses to you in the winter evenings at Ecbatana. 
 He used to know endless poetry when he was a boy." 
 
 This time Nehushta looked at the queen, and won 
 dered how she, who could not be more than two or 
 three and twenty years old, although now married to 
 her third husband, could speak of having known 
 Zoroaster as a boy, seeing that he was past thirty 
 years of age. She turned the question upon the 
 queen. 
 
 ** You must have seen Zoroaster very often before 
 he left Shushan," she said. "You know him so 
 well." 
 
 " Yes every one knew him. He was the favourite 
 of the court, with his beauty and his courage and his 
 strange affection for that old for the old Hebrew 
 prophet. That is why Cambyses sent them both 
 away," added she with a light laugh. " They were 
 far too good, both of them, to be endured among the 
 doings of those times." 
 
 Atossa spoke readily enough of Cambyses. Ne 
 hushta wondered whether she could be induced to 
 speak of Smerdis. Her supposed ignorance of the 
 true nature of what had occurred in the last few 
 months would permit her to speak of the dead usurper 
 with impunity. 
 
 " I suppose there have been great changes lately 
 in the manners of the court during this last year," 
 suggested Nehushta carelessly. She pulled a raisin 
 from the dry stem, and tried to peel it with her deli 
 cate fingers. 
 
 " Indeed there have been changes," answered Atossa, 
 
ZOROASTER. 103 
 
 calmly. " A great many things that used to be 
 tolerated will never be heard of now. On the whole, 
 the change has been rather in relation to religion 
 than otherwise. You will understand that in one 
 year we have had three court religions. Cambyses 
 sacrificed to Ashtaroth and I must say he made 
 a most appropriate choice of his tutelary goddess. 
 Smerdis " continued the queen in measured tones 
 and with the utmost calmness of manner " Smerdis 
 devoted himself wholly to the worship of Indra, who 
 appeared to be a convenient association of all the 
 most agreeable gods ; and the Great King now rules 
 the earth by the grace of Auramazda. I, for my 
 part, have always inclined to the Hebrew conception 
 of one God perhaps that is much the same as 
 Auramazda, the All- Wise. What do you think ? " 
 
 Nehushta smiled at the deft way in which the 
 queen avoided speaking of Smerdis by turning the 
 conversation again to religious topics. But fearing 
 another lecture on the comparative merits of idolatry, 
 human sacrifice, and monotheism, she manifested very 
 little interest in the subject. 
 
 "I daresay it is the same. Zoroaster always says 
 so, and that was the one point that Daniel could never 
 forgive him. The sun is coming through those plants 
 upon your head shall we not have our cushions 
 moved into the shade at the other end ? " She clapped 
 her hands and rose languidly, offering her hand to 
 Atossa. But the queen sprang lightly to her feet. 
 
 " I have stayed too long," she said. " Come with 
 me, dearest princess, and we will go out into the 
 orange gardens upon the upper terrace. Perhaps," 
 
104 ZOROASTER. 
 
 she added, adjusting the folds of her mantle, "we 
 shall find Zoroaster there, or some of the princes, or 
 even the Great King himself. Or, perhaps," it would 
 amuse you to see where I live ? " 
 
 Neiiushta received her mantle from her slaves, and 
 one of them brought her a linen tiara in place of the 
 gauze veil she had twisted about her hair. But 
 Atossa would not permit the change. 
 
 "It is too beautiful!" she cried enthusiastically. 
 " So new ! you must really not change it." 
 
 She put her arm around Nehushta affectionately 
 and led her towards the door of the inner staircase. 
 Then suddenly she paused, as though recollecting 
 herself. 
 
 " No," she said, " I will show you the way I came. 
 It is shorter and you should know it. It may be of 
 use to you." 
 
 So they left the balcony by the little door that was 
 almost masked by one of the great pillars, and de 
 scended the dark stairs. Nehushta detested every 
 sort of bodily inconvenience, and inwardly wished 
 the queen had not changed her mind, but had led 
 her by an easier way. 
 
 " It is not far," said the queen, descending rapidly 
 in front of her. 
 
 " It is dreadfully steep," objected Nehushta, " and 
 I can hardly see my way at all. How many steps 
 are there?" 
 
 " Only a score more," answered the queen's voice, 
 farther down. She seemed to be hurrying, but Ne 
 hushta had no intention of going any faster, and care 
 fully groped her way. As she began to see a glim- 
 
ZOROASTER. 105 
 
 mer of light at the last turn of the winding stair, she 
 heard loud voices in the corridor below. With the 
 cautious instinct of her race, she paused and listened. 
 The hard, quick tones of an angry man dominated 
 the rest. 
 
106 ZOROASTER. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 ZOROASTER had sat for nearly an hour, his eyes 
 fixed on the blue sky, his thoughts wandering in con 
 templation of things greater and higher than those of 
 earth, when he was roused by the measured tread of 
 armed men marching in a distant room. In an in 
 stant he stood up, his helmet on his head, the whole 
 force of military habit bringing him back suddenly to 
 the world of reality. In a moment the same heavy 
 curtain, from under which Atossa had issued two 
 hours before, was drawn aside, and a double file of 
 spearmen came out upon the balcony, ranging them 
 selves to right and left with well-drilled precision. 
 A moment more, and the king himself appeared, 
 walking alone, in his armour and winged helmet, his 
 left hand upon the hilt of his sword, his splendid 
 mantle hanging to the ground behind his shoulders. 
 As he came between the soldiers, he walked more 
 slowly, and his dark, deep-set eyes seemed to scan the 
 bearing and accoutrements of each separate spear 
 man. It was rarely indeed, in those early days of 
 his power, that he laid aside his breast-plate for the 
 tunic, or his helmet for the tiara and royal crown. 
 In his whole air and gait the character of the soldier 
 dominated, and the look of the conqueror was already 
 in his face. 
 
 Zoroaster strode forward a few paces, and stood 
 
ZOROASTER. 107 
 
 still as the king caught sight of him, preparing to 
 prostrate himself, according to the ancient custom. 
 But Darius checked him by a gesture ; turning half 
 round, he dismissed the guard, who filed back through 
 the door as they had come, and the curtain fell behind 
 them. 
 
 " I like not these elaborate customs," said the king. 
 ' A simple salutation, the hand to the lips and fore 
 head it is quite enough. A man might win a 
 battle if he had all the time that it takes him to fall 
 down at my feet and rise up again, twenty times in a 
 day." 
 
 As the king's speech seemed to require no answer, 
 Zoroaster stood silently waiting for his orders. Da 
 rius walked to the balustrade and stood in the full 
 glare of the sun for a moment, looking out. Then 
 he came back again. 
 
 " The town seems to be quiet this morning," he 
 said. " How long did the queen tarry here talking 
 with thee, Zoroaster?" 
 
 " The queen talked with her servant for the space 
 of half an hour," answered Zoroaster, without hesita 
 tion, though he was astonished at the suddenness 
 and directness of the question. 
 
 " She is gone to see thy princess," continued the 
 king. 
 
 " The queen told her servant it was yet too early 
 to see Nehushta," remarked the warrior. 
 
 "She is gone to see her, nevertheless," asserted 
 Darius, in a tone of conviction. " Now, it stands in 
 reason that when the most beautiful woman in the 
 world has been told that another woman is come 
 
 Vol. 6 P 
 
108 ZOROASTBB. 
 
 who is more beautiful than she, she will not lose a 
 moment in seeing her." He eyed Zoroaster curi 
 ously for a moment, and his thick black beard did 
 not altogether hide the smile on his face. " Come," 
 he added, " we shall find the two together." 
 
 The king led the way and Zoroaster gravely fol 
 lowed. They passed down the staircase by which 
 the queen had gone, and entering the low passage, 
 came to the small door which she had bolted behind 
 her with so much difficulty. The king pushed his 
 weight against it, but it was still fastened. 
 
 "Thou art stronger than I, Zoroaster," he said, 
 with a deep laugh. " Open this door." 
 
 The young warrior pushed heavily against the 
 planks, and felt that one of them yielded. Then, 
 standing back, he dealt a heavy blow on the spot 
 with his clenched fist ; a second, and the plank broke 
 in. He put his arm through the aperture, and easily 
 slipped the bolt back, and the door flew open. The 
 blood streamed from his hand. 
 
 "That is well done," said Darius as he entered. 
 His quick eye saw something white upon the stone 
 bench in the dusky corner by the door. He stooped 
 and picked it up quickly. It was the sealed scroll 
 Atossa had left there when she needed both her 
 hands to draw the bolt. Darius took it to one of the 
 narrow windows, looked at it curiously and broke 
 the seal. Zoroaster stood near and wiped the blood 
 from his bruised knuckle. 
 
 The contents of the scroll were short. It was ad 
 dressed to one Phraortes, of Ecbatana in Media, and 
 contained the information that the Great King had 
 
ZOROASTER. 109 
 
 returned in triumph from Babylon, having subdued 
 the rebels and slain many thousands in two battles. 
 Furthermore, that the said Phraortes should give in 
 stant information of the queen's affairs, and do noth 
 ing in regard to them until further intimation arrived. 
 
 The king stood a moment in deep thought. Then 
 he walked slowly down the corridor, holding the scroll 
 loose in his hand. Just at that instant Atossa emerged 
 from the dark staircase, and as she found herself face 
 to face with Darius, she uttered an exclamation and 
 stood still. 
 
 " This is a very convenient place for our interview,'* 
 said Darius quietly. " No one can hear us. There 
 fore speak the truth at once." He held up the scroll 
 to her eyes. 
 
 Atossa's ready wit did not desert her, nor did she 
 change colour, though she knew her life was in the 
 balance with her words. She laughed lightly as she 
 spoke : 
 
 " I came down the stairs this morning " 
 
 " To see the most beautiful woman in the world," 
 interrupted Darius, raising his voice. " You have 
 seen her. I am glad of it. Why did you bolt the 
 door of the passage ? " 
 
 " Because I thought it unfitting that the passage to 
 the women's apartments should be left open when so 
 many in the palace know the way," she answered 
 readily enough. 
 
 " Where were you taking this letter when you left 
 it at the door ? " asked the king, beginning to doubt 
 whether there were anything wrong after all. 
 
 "I was about to send it to Ecbatana," answered 
 Atossa with perfect simplicity. 
 
110 ZOROASTER. 
 
 " Who is this Phraortes ? " 
 
 " He is the governor of the lands my father gave 
 me for my own in Media. I wrote him to tell him of 
 the Great King's victory, and that he should send me 
 information concerning my affairs, and do nothing 
 further until he hears from me." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Because I thought it possible that the Great King 
 would spend the summer in Ecbatana, and that I 
 should therefore be there myself to give my own 
 directions. I forgot the letter because I had to take 
 both hands to draw the bolt, and I was coming back 
 to get it. Nehushta the princess is with me she is 
 now upon the staircase." 
 
 The king looked thoughtfully at his wife's beautiful 
 face. 
 
 " You have evidently spoken the truth," he said 
 slowly. " But it is not always easy to understand 
 what your truth signifies. I often think it would be 
 much wiser to strangle you. Say you that Nehushta 
 is near ? Call her, then. Why does she tarry ? " 
 
 In truth Nehushta had trembled as she crouched 
 upon the stairs, not knowing whether to descend or to 
 fly up the steps again. As she heard the queen pro 
 nounce her name, however, she judged it prudent to 
 seem to have been out of earshot, and with quick, 
 soft steps, she went up till she came to the lighted 
 part, and there she waited. 
 
 " Let the Great King go himself and find her," said 
 Atossa proudly, " if he doubts me any further." She 
 stood aside to let him pass. But Darius beckoned to 
 Zoroaster to gOo He had remained standing at some 
 
ZOROASTER, 111 
 
 distance, an unwilling witness to the royal altercation 
 that had taken place before him ; but as he passed 
 the queen, she gave him a glance of imploring sad 
 ness, as though beseeching his sympathy in what she 
 was made to suffer. He ran quickly up the steps in 
 spite of the darkness, and found Nehushta waiting by 
 the window higher up. She started as he appeared, 
 for he was the person she least expectedo But he 
 took her quickly in his arms, and kissed her passion 
 ately twice. 
 
 " Come quickly, my beloved," he whispered. " The 
 king waits below." 
 
 "I heard his voice and then I fled," she whis 
 pered hurriedly; and they began to descend again. 
 " I hate her I knew I should," she whispered, as 
 she leaned upon his arm. So they emerged into the 
 corridor, and met Darius waiting for them. The 
 queen was nowhere to be seen, and the door at the 
 farther extremity of the narrow way was wide open. 
 
 The king was as calm as though nothing had 
 occurred; he still held the open letter in his hand 
 as Nehushta entered the passage, and bowed herself 
 before him. He took her hand for a moment, and 
 then dropped it ; but his eyes flashed suddenly and 
 his arm trembled at her touch. 
 
 " Thou hadst almost lost thy way," he said. " The 
 palace is large and the passages are many and devious. 
 Come now, I will lead thee to the gardens. There 
 thou canst find friends among the queen's noble 
 women, and amusements of many kinds. Let thy 
 heart delight in the beauty of Shushan, and if there 
 is anything that thou desirest, ask and I will give it 
 thee." 
 
112 ZOROASTER. 
 
 Nehushta bent her head in thanks. The only thing 
 she desired was to be alone for half an hour with 
 Zoroaster ; and that seemed difficult. 
 
 " Thy servant desireth what is pleasant in thy 
 sight," she answered. And so they left the passage 
 by the open door, and the king himself conducted 
 Nehushta to the entrance of the garden, and bade the 
 slave-woman who met them to lead her to the pavilion 
 where the ladies of the palace spent the day in the 
 warm summer weather. Zoroaster knew that what 
 ever liberty his singular position allowed him in the 
 quarter of the building where the king himself lived, 
 he was not privileged to enter that place which was 
 set apart for the noble ladies. Darius hated to be 
 always surrounded by guards and slaves, and the ter 
 races and staircases of his dwelling were generally 
 totally deserted, only small detachments of spear 
 men guarding jealously the main entrances. But the 
 remainder of the palace swarmed with the gorgeously 
 dressed retinue of the court, with slaves of every 
 colour and degree, from the mute smooth-faced Ethi 
 opian to the accomplished Hebrew scribes of the great 
 nobles ; from the black and scantily-clad fan-girls to 
 the dainty Greek tirewomen of the queen's toilet, 
 who loitered near the carved marble fountain at the 
 entrance to the gardens ; and in the outer courts, 
 detachments of the horsemen of the guard rubbed 
 their weapons, or reddened their broad leather bridles 
 and trappings with red chalk, or groomed the horse 
 of some lately arrived officer or messenger, or hung 
 about and basked in the sun, with no clothing but 
 their short-sleeved linen tunics and breeches, discuss- 
 
ZOROASTER. 113 
 
 ing the affairs of the nation with the certainty of 
 decision peculiar to all soldiers, high and low. There 
 was only room for a squadron of horse in the palace ; 
 but though they were few, they were the picked men 
 of the guard, and every one of them felt himself as 
 justly entitled to an opinion concerning the position 
 of the new king, as though he were at least a general. 
 
 But Darius allowed no gossiping slaves nor wran 
 gling soldiers in his own dwelling. There all was 
 silent and apparently deserted, and thither he led 
 Zoroaster again. The young warrior was astonished 
 at the way in which the king moved about unattended, 
 as carelessly as though he were a mere soldier himself ; 
 he was not yet accustomed to the restless independence 
 of character, to the unceasing activity and perfect per 
 sonal fearlessness of the young Darius. It was hard to 
 realise that this simple, hard-handed, outspoken man 
 was the Great King, and occupied the throne of the 
 magnificent and stately Cyrus, who never stirred 
 abroad without the full state of the court about him ; 
 or that he reigned in the stead of the luxurious Cam- 
 byses, who feared to tread upon uncovered marble, or 
 to expose himself to the draught of a staircase ; arid 
 who, after seven years of caring for his body, had 
 destroyed himself in a fit of impotent passion. Darius 
 succeeded to the throne of Persia as a lion coming 
 into the place of jackals, as an eagle into a nest of 
 crows and carrion birds untiring, violent, relentless 
 and brave. 
 
 " Knowest thou one Phraortes, of Ecbatana ? " the 
 king asked suddenly when he was alone with Zo 
 roaster. 
 
114 ZOROASTER. 
 
 "I know him," answered the prince. "A man 
 rich and powerful, full of vanity as a peacock, and 
 of wiles like a serpent. Not noble. He is the son 
 of a fish-vendor, grown rich by selling salted stur 
 geons in the market-place. He is also the overseer 
 of the queen's farmlands in Media, and of the Great 
 King's horse-breeding stables." 
 
 "Go forth and bring him to me," said the king 
 shortly. Without a word, Zoroaster made a brief 
 salute and turned upon his heel to go. But it was 
 as though a man had thrust him through with a 
 knife. The king gazed after him in admiration of 
 his magnificent obedience. 
 
 " Stay ! " he called out. " How long wilt thou be 
 gone?" 
 
 Zoroaster turned sharply round in military fashion, 
 as he answered : 
 
 " It is a hundred and fifty f arsangs l to Ecbatana. 
 By the king's relays I can ride there in six days, and 
 I can bring back Phraortes in six days more if he 
 die not of the riding," he added, with a grim smile. 
 
 "Is he old, or young? Fat, or meagre?" asked 
 the king, laughing. 
 
 " He is a man of forty years, neither thin nor fat 
 a good horseman in his way, but not as we are." 
 
 " Bind him to his horse if he falls off from weari 
 ness. And tell him he is summoned to appear before 
 me. Tell him the business brooks no delay. Aura- 
 mazda be with thee and bring thee help. Go with 
 speed." 
 
 1 Between five and six hundred English miles. South American 
 postilions at the present day ride six hundred miles a week for a 
 bare living. 
 
ZOROASTER. 115 
 
 Again Zoroaster turned and in a moment he was 
 gone. He had sworn to be the king's faithful ser 
 vant, and he would keep his oath, cost what it might, 
 though it was bitterness to him to leave Nehushta 
 without a word. He bethought him as he hastily 
 put on light garments for the journey, that he might 
 send her a letter, and he wrote a few words upon a 
 piece of parchment, and folded it together. As he 
 passed by the entrance of the garden on his way to 
 the stables, he looked about for one of Nehushta's 
 slaves ; but seeing none, he beckoned to one of the 
 Greek tirewomen, and giving her a piece of gold, 
 bade her take the little scroll to Nehushta, the 
 Hebrew princess, who was in the gardens. Then he 
 went quickly on, and mounting the best horse in the 
 king's stables, galloped at a break-neck pace down 
 the steep incline. In five minutes he had crossed the 
 bridge, and was speeding over the straight, dusty 
 road toward Nineveh. In a quarter of an hour, a 
 person watching him from the palace would have 
 seen his flying figure disappearing as in a tiny speck 
 of dust far out upon the broad, green plain. 
 
 But the Greek slave-woman stood with Zoroaster's 
 letter in her hand and held the gold piece he had 
 given her in her mouth, debating what she should do. 
 She was one of the queen's women, as it chanced, and 
 she immediately reflected that she might turn the 
 writing to some better account than by delivering it 
 to Nehushta, whom she had seen for a moment that 
 morning as she passed, and whose dark Hebrew 
 face displeased the frivolous Greek, for some hidden 
 reason. She thought of giving the scroll to the queen, 
 
116 ZOROASTER. 
 
 but then she reflected that she did not know what it 
 contained. The words were written hastily and in 
 the Chaldean character. Their import might dis 
 please her mistress. The woman was not a new 
 comer, and she knew Zoroaster's face well enough 
 from former times ; she knew also, or suspected, that 
 the queen secretly loved him, and she argued from 
 the fact of Zoroaster, who was dressed for a journey, 
 sending so hastily a word to Nehushta, that he loved 
 the Hebrew princess. Therefore, if the letter were a 
 mere love greeting, with no name written in it, the 
 queen might apply it to herself, and she would be 
 pleased ; whereas, if it were in any way clear that 
 the writing was intended for Nehushta, the queen 
 would certainly be glad that it should never be 
 delivered. The result of this cunning argument was 
 that the Greek woman thrust the letter into her 
 bosom, and the gold piece into her girdle ; and went 
 to seek an opportunity of seeing the queen alone. 
 
 That day, towards evening, Atossa sat in an inner 
 chamber before her great mirror ; the table was cov 
 ered with jade boxes, silver combs, bowls of golden 
 hairpins, little ivory instruments, and all the appurte 
 nances of her toilet. Two or three magnificent jewels 
 lay among the many articles of use, gleaming in the 
 reflected light of the two tall lamps that stood on 
 bronze stands beside her chair. She was fully attired 
 and had dismissed her women ; but she lingered a 
 moment, poring over the little parchment scroll her 
 chief hairdresser had slipped into her hand when they 
 were alone for a moment. Only a black fan-girl stood 
 a few paces behind her, and resting the stem of the 
 
ZOROASTEE. 11 T 
 
 long palm against one foot thrust forward, swung the 
 broad round leaf quickly from side to side at arm's 
 length, sending a constant stream of fresh air upon 
 her royal mistress, just below the level of the lamps 
 which burned steadily above. 
 
 The queen turned the small letter again in her 
 hand, and smiled to herself as she looked into the 
 great burnished sheet of silver that surmounted the 
 table. With some difficulty she had mastered 
 the contents, for she knew enough of Hebrew and 
 of the Chaldean character to comprehend the few 
 simple words. 
 
 " I go hence for twelve days upon the king's 
 business. My beloved, my soul is with thy soul and 
 my heart with thy heart. As the dove that goeth 
 forth in the morning and returneth in the evening to 
 his mate, so I will return soon to thee." 
 
 Atossa knew well enough that the letter had been 
 intended for Nehushta. The woman had whispered 
 that Zoroaster had given it to her, and Zoroaster 
 would never have written those words to herself ; or, 
 writing anything, would not have written in the 
 Hebrew language. 
 
 But as the queen read, her heart rose up in wrath 
 against the Persian prince and against the woman he 
 loved, When she had talked with him that morning, 
 she had felt her old yearning affection rising again in 
 her breast. She had wondered at herself, being accus 
 tomed to think that she was beyond all feeling for 
 man, and the impression she had received from her 
 half-hour's talk with him was so strong, that she had 
 foolishly delayed sending her letter to Phraortes, ia 
 
118 ZOROASTER. 
 
 order to see the woman Zoroaster admired, and had, 
 in her absence of mind, forgotten the scroll upon the 
 seat in the corridor, and had brought herself into such 
 desperate danger through the discovery of the missiye, 
 that she hardly yet felt safe. The king had dismissed 
 her peremptorily from his presence while he waited 
 for Nehushta, and she had not seen him during the 
 test of the day. As for Zoroaster, she had soon heard 
 from her women that he had taken the road towards 
 Nineveh before noon, alone and almost unarmed, 
 mounted upon one of the fleetest horses in Persia. 
 She had not a doubt that Darius had despatched him 
 at once to Ecbatana to meet Phraortes, or at least to 
 inquire into the state of affairs in the city. She knew 
 that no one could outride Zoroaster, and that there 
 was nothing to be done but to await the issue. It was 
 not possible to send a word of warning to her agent 
 he must inevitably take his chance, and if his con 
 duct attracted suspicion, he would, in all probability, 
 be at once put to death. She believed that, even in 
 that event, she could easily clear herself; but she 
 resolved, if possible, to warn him as soon as he 
 reached Shushan, or even to induce the king to be 
 absent from the palace for a few days at the time 
 when Phraortes might be expected. There was 
 plenty of time at least eleven days. 
 
 Meanwhile, a desperate struggle was beginning 
 within her, and the letter her woman had brought her 
 hastened the conclusion to which her thoughts were 
 rapidly tending. 
 
 She felt keenly the fact that Zoroaster, who had 
 been so cold to her advances in former days, had 
 
ZOROASTER. 119 
 
 preferred before her a Hebrew woman, and was now 
 actually so deeply in love with Nehushta, that he 
 could not leave the palace for a few days without 
 writing her a word of love he, who had never loved 
 any one ! She fiercely hated this dark woman, who 
 was preferred before her by the man she secretly 
 loved, and whom the king had brutally declared to 
 be the most beautiful woman in the world. She 
 longed for her destruction as she had never longed for 
 anything in her life. Her whole soul rose in bitter 
 resentment; not only did Zoroaster love this black- 
 eyed, dark-browed child of captivity, but the king, 
 who had always maintained that Atossa was un 
 equalled in the world, even when he coldly informed 
 her that he would never trust her, now dared to say 
 before Zoroaster, almost before Nehushta herself, that 
 the princess was the more beautiful of the two. The 
 one man wounded her in her vanity, the other in her 
 heart. 
 
 It would not be possible at present to be revenged 
 upon the king. There was little chance of eluding 
 his sleepless vigilance, or of leading him into any 
 rash act of self-destruction. Besides, she knew him 
 too well not to understand that he was the only man 
 alive who could save Persia from further revolutions, 
 and keep the throne against all comers. She loved 
 power and the splendour of her royal existence, per 
 haps more than she loved Zoroaster. The idea of 
 another change in the monarchy was not to be 
 thought of, now that Darius had subdued Babylon. 
 She had indeed a half-concerted plan with Phraortes 
 to seize the power in Media in case the king were 
 
120 ZOROASTER. 
 
 defeated in Babylonia, and the scroll she had so 
 imprudently forgotten that very morning was merely 
 an order to lay aside all such plans for the present, 
 since the king had returned in triumph. 
 
 As far as her conscience was concerned, Atossa 
 would as soon have overthrown and murdered the 
 king to gratify the personal anger she felt against 
 him at the present moment, as she would have wrecked 
 the universe to possess a jewel she fancied. There 
 existed in her mind no idea of proportion between 
 the gratification of her passions and the means sne 
 might employ thereto ; provided one gratification did 
 not interfere with another which she always saw 
 beyond. Nothing startled her on account of its mere 
 magnitude ; no plan was rejected by her merely be 
 cause it implied ruin to a countless number of human 
 beings who were useless to her. She coldly calcu 
 lated the amount of satisfaction she could at any time 
 obtain for her wishes and desires, so as not to preju 
 dice the gratification of all the possible passions she 
 might hereafter experience. 
 
 As for injuring Zoroaster, she would not have 
 thought of it. She loved him in a way peculiar to 
 herself, but it was love, nevertheless, and she had 
 no idea of wreaking her disappointment upon the 
 object on which she had set her heart. As a logical 
 consequence, she determined to turn all her anger 
 against Nehushta, and she pictured to herself the 
 delicious pleasure of torturing the young princess's 
 jealousy to desperation. To convince Nehushta that 
 Zoroaster was deceiving her, and really loved herself, 
 the queen ; to force Zoroaster into some position where 
 
ZOROASTER. 121 
 
 he must either silently let Nehushta believe that he 
 was attached to Atossa, or, as an alternative, betray 
 the king's secrets by speaking the truth ; to let 
 Nehushta's vanity be flattered by the king's admira 
 tion, nay, even to force her into a marriage with 
 Darius, and then by suffering her again to fall into 
 her first love for Zoroaster, bring her to a public dis 
 grace by suddenly unmasking her to the king to 
 accomplish these things surely and quickly, reserving 
 for herself the final delight of scoffing at her worsted 
 rival all this seemed to Atossa to constitute a plan 
 at once worthy of her profound and scheming intelli 
 gence, and most sweetly satisfactory to her injured 
 vanity and rejected love. 
 
 It would be hard for her to see Nehushta married 
 to the king, and occupying the position of chief 
 favourite even for a time. But the triumph would 
 be the sweeter when Nehushta was finally overthrown, 
 and meanwhile there would be much daily delight in 
 tormenting the princess's jealousy. Chance, or rather 
 the cunning of her Greek tirewoman, had thrown a 
 weapon in her way which could easily be turned into 
 an instrument of torture, and as she sat before her 
 mirror, she twisted and untwisted the little bit of 
 parchment, and smiled to herself, a sweet bright 
 smile and leaned her head back to the pleasant 
 breeze of the fan. 
 
122 ZOEOASTEB. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE noonday air was hot and dry in the garden of 
 the palace, but in the graceful marble pavilion there 
 was coolness and the sound of gently plashing water. 
 Rose-trees and climbing plants screened the sunlight 
 from the long windows, and gave a soft green tinge 
 to the eight-sided hall, where a fountain played in 
 the midst, its little jet falling into a basin hollowed 
 in the floor. On the rippling surface a few water- 
 lilies swayed gently with the constant motion, an 
 chored by their long stems to the bottom. All was 
 cool and quiet and restful, and Nehushta stood look 
 ing at the fountain. 
 
 She was alone and very unhappy. Zoroaster had 
 left the palace without a word to her, and she knew 
 only by the vague reports her slaves brought her, 
 that he was gone for many days. Her heart sank at 
 the thought of all that might happen before he re 
 turned, and the tears stood in her eyes. 
 
 " Are you here alone, dear princess ? " said a soft, 
 clear voice behind her. Nehushta started, as though 
 something had stung her, as she recognised Atossa's 
 tones. There was nothing of her assumed cordiality 
 of the previous day as she answered. She was too 
 unhappy, too weary of the thought that her lover 
 was gone, to be able to act a part, or pretend a 
 iriendliness she did not feel. 
 
ZOROASTER. 123 
 
 jfes I am alone," she said quietly. 
 
 "So am I," answered Atossa, her blue eyes spark 
 ling with the sunshine she brought in with, her, and 
 all her wonderful beauty beaming, as it were, with 
 an overflowing happiness. " The ladies of the court 
 are gone in state to the city, in the Great King's 
 train, and you and I are alone in the palace. How 
 deliciously cool it is in here." 
 
 She sat down upon a heap of cushions by one of 
 the screened windows and contemplated Nehushta, 
 who still stood by the fountain. 
 
 "You look sad and tired, dearest Nehushta," 
 said she presently. "Indeed you must not be sad 
 here nobody is sad here ! " 
 
 " I am sad," repeated Nehushta, in a dreary, monot 
 onous way, as though scarcely conscious of what she 
 was saying. There was a moment's silence before 
 Atossa spoke again. 
 
 " Tell me what it is," she said at last, in persuasive 
 accents. "Tell me what is the matter. It maybe 
 that you lack something that you miss something 
 you were used to in Ecbatana. Will you not tell 
 me, dearest?" 
 
 " Tell you what ? " asked Nehushta, as though she 
 had not heard. 
 
 " Tell me what it is that makes you sad," repeated 
 the queen. 
 
 " Tell you ? " exclaimed the princess, suddenly 
 looking up, with flashing eyes, " tell you ? oh no ! " 
 
 Atossa looked a little sadly at Nehushta, as though 
 hurt at the want of confidence she showed. But the 
 Hebrew maiden turned away and went and looked 
 
124 ZOBOASTEB. 
 
 through the hanging plants at the garden without. 
 Then Atossa rose softly and came and stood behind 
 her, and put her arm about her, and let her own fair 
 cheek rest against the princess's dark face. Nehushta 
 said nothing, but she trembled, as though something 
 she hated were touching her. 
 
 "Is it because your friend has gone away sud 
 denly ? " asked Atossa almost in a whisper, with the 
 sweetest accent of sympathy. Nehushta started a 
 little. 
 
 " No ! " she answered, almost fiercely. " Why do 
 you say that ? " 
 
 "Only he wrote me a little word before he went. 
 I thought you might like to know he was safe," re 
 plied the queen, gently pressing her arm about Ne- 
 hushta's slender waist. 
 
 " Wrote to you ? " repeated the princess, in angry 
 surprise. 
 
 " Yes, dearest," answered the queen, looking down 
 in well-feigned embarrassment. " I would not have 
 told you, only I thought you would wish to hear of 
 him. If you like, I will read you a part of what he 
 says," she added, pioducing from her bosom the little 
 piece of parchment carefully rolled together. 
 
 It was more than Nehushta could bear. Her olive 
 skin turned suddenly pale, and she tore herself away 
 from the queen. 
 
 " Oh no ! no ! I will not hear it ! Leave me in 
 peace for your gods' sake, leave me in peace ! " 
 
 Atossa drew herself up and stared coldly at Ne 
 hushta, as though she were surprised beyond measure 
 and deeply offended. 
 
ZOKOASTEB. 126 
 
 " Truly, I need not be told twice to leave you in 
 peace," she said proudly. " I thought to comfort 
 you, because I saw you were sad even at the ex 
 pense of my own feelings. I will leave you now 
 but I bear no malice against you. You are very, 
 very young, and very, very foolish." 
 
 Atossa shook her head, thoughtfully, and swept 
 from the pavilion in stately and offended dignity. 
 But as she walked alone through the garden, she 
 smiled to herself and softly hummed a merry melody 
 she had heard from an Egyptian actor on the previous 
 evening. Darius had brought a company of Egyp 
 tians from Babylon, and after the banquet, had com 
 manded that they should perform their music, and 
 dancing, and mimicry, for the amusement of the 
 assembled court. 
 
 Atossa's sweet voice echoed faintly among the 
 orange trees and the roses, as she went towards the 
 palace, and the sound of it came distantly to Ne- 
 hushta's ears. She stood for a while where the queen 
 had left her, her face pale and her hands wringing 
 together ; and then, with a sudden impulse, she went 
 and threw herself upon the floor, and buried her head 
 in the deep, soft cushions. Her hands wandered in 
 the wealth of her black hair, and her quick, hot tears 
 stained the delicate silk of the pillows. 
 
 How could he ? How was it possible ? He said 
 he loved her, and now, when he was sent away for 
 many days, his only thought had been to write to the 
 queen not to herself ! An agony of jealousy over 
 whelmed her, and she could have torn out her very 
 soul, and trampled her own heart under her feet in 
 
126 ZOROASTER. 
 
 her anger. Passionately she clasped her hands to 
 her temples ; her head seemed splitting with a new 
 and dreadful pain that swallowed all her thoughts 
 for a moment, until the cold weight seemed again to 
 fall upon her breast and all her passion gushed out in 
 abundant tears. Suddenly a thought struck her. 
 She roused herself, leaning upon one hand, and stared 
 vacantly a moment at her small gilded shoe which 
 had fallen from her bare foot upon the marble pave 
 ment. She absently reached forward and took the 
 thing in her hand, and gravely contemplated the 
 delicate embroidery and thick gilding, through her 
 tears, as one will do a foolish and meaningless 
 thing in the midst of a great sorrow. 
 
 Was it possible that the queen had deceived her? 
 How she wished she had let her read the writing as 
 she had offered to do. She "did not imagine at first 
 that the letter was for herself and had gone astray. 
 But she thought the queen might easily have pre 
 tended to have received something, or had even 
 scratched a few words upon a bit of parchment, mean 
 ing to pass it off upon her as a letter from Zoroaster. 
 She longed to possess the thing and to judge of it 
 with her own eyes. It would hardly be possible to 
 say whether it were written by him or not, as far as 
 the handwriting was concerned ; but Nehushta was 
 sure she should recognise some word, some turn of 
 language that would assure her that it was his. She 
 could almost have risen and gone in search of the 
 queen at once, to prove the lie upon her to chal 
 lenge her to show the writing. But her pride forbade 
 her. She had been so weak she should not have 
 
ZOROASTER. 127 
 
 let Atossa see, even for a moment, that she was hurt, 
 not even that she loved Zoroaster. She had tried to 
 conceal her feelings, but Atossa had gone too far, had 
 tortured her beyond all endurance, and she -knew 
 that, even if she had known what to expect, she 
 could not have easily borne the soft, infuriating, 
 deadly, caressing, goading taunts of that fair, cruel 
 woman. 
 
 Then again, the whole possibility of Zoroaster's 
 unfaithfulness came and took shape before her. He 
 had known and loved Atossa of old, perhaps, and 
 now the old love had risen up and killed the new 
 he had sworn so truly under the ivory moonlight in 
 Ecbatana. And yet he had written to this other 
 woman and not to her. Was it true ? Was it Atossa's 
 cruel lie ? In a storm of doubt and furious passion, 
 her tears welled forth again ; and once more she hid 
 her face in the pale yellow cushions, and her whole 
 beautiful body trembled and was wrung with her 
 sobs. 
 
 Suddenly she was aware that some one entered the 
 fittle hall and stood beside her. She dared not look 
 up at first ; she was unstrung and wretched in her 
 grief and anger, and it was the strong, firm tread of a 
 man. The footsteps ceased, and the intruder, who 
 ever he might be, was standing still ; she took courage 
 and looked quickly up. It was the king himself. 
 Indeed, she might have known that no other man 
 would dare to penetrate into the recesses of the 
 garden set apart for the ladies of the palace. 
 
 Darius stood quietly gazing at her with an expres 
 sion of doubt and curiosity, that was almost amusing, 
 
128 ZOROASTER. 
 
 on his stern, dark face. Nehushta was frightened, 
 and sprang to her feet with the graceful quickness 
 of a startled deer. She was indolent by nature, but 
 as swift as light when she was roused by fear or 
 excitement. 
 
 " Are you so unhappy in my palace ? " asked Darius 
 gently. "Why are you weeping? Who has hurt 
 you?" 
 
 Nehushta turned her face away and dashed the 
 tears from her eyes, while her cheeks flushed hotly. 
 
 "I am not weeping no one has hurt me," she 
 answered, in a voice broken rather by embarrassment 
 and annoyance, than by the sorrow she had nearly 
 forgotten in her sudden astonishment at being face to 
 face with the king. 
 
 Darius smiled, and almost laughed, as he stroked 
 his thick beard with his broad brown hand. 
 
 "Princess," he said, "will you sit down again? 
 I will deliver you a discourse upon the extreme folly 
 of ever telling " he hesitated " of saying any 
 thing which is not precisely true." 
 
 There was something so simple and honest in his 
 manner of speaking, that Nehushta almost smiled 
 through her half-dried tears as she sat upon the cush 
 ions at the king's feet. He himself sat down upon 
 the broad marble seat that ran round the eight-sided 
 little building, and composing his face to a serious ex 
 pression, that was more than half -assumed, began to 
 deliver his lecture. 
 
 " I take it for granted that when one tells a lie, he 
 expects to be believed. The-re must, then, be some 
 thing or circumstance which can help to make his lies 
 
ZOROASTER. 129 
 
 credible. Now, my dear princess, in the present in- 
 stance, while I was looking you in the face and count 
 ing the tears upon your very beautiful cheeks, you 
 deliberately told me that you were not weeping. 
 There was, therefore, not even the shadow of a thing, 
 or circumstance which could make what you said 
 credible. It is evident that what you said was not 
 true. Is it not so ? " 
 
 Nehushta could not help smiling as she looked up 
 and saw the kindly light in the king's dark eyes. 
 She thought she understood he was amusing her for 
 the sake of giving her time to collect herself, and in 
 spite of the determined intention of marrying her he 
 had so lately expressed, she felt safe with him. 
 
 "The king lives for ever," she answered, in the 
 set phrase of assent common at the court. 
 
 " It is very probable," replied Darius gravely. " So 
 many people say so, that I should have to believe all 
 mankind liars if that were not true. But I must 
 return to your own particular case. It would have 
 been easy for you not to have said what you did. I 
 must therefore suppose that in going out of the way 
 to make an attempt to deceive me in the face of such 
 evidence by saying you were not weeping when the 
 tears were actually falling from those very soft eyes 
 of yours you had an object to gain. Men employ 
 truth and falsehood for much the same reason: A 
 man who does not respect truth will, therefore, lie 
 when he can hope to gain more by it. The man who 
 lies expects to gain something by his lie, and the 
 man who tells the truth hopes that, in so doing, he 
 will establish himself a credit which he can use upon 
 
130 ZOROASTER. 
 
 future occasions. 1 But the object is the same. Tell 
 me, therefore, princess, what did you hope to gain by 
 trying to deceive me ? " Darius laughed as he con 
 cluded his argument and looked at Nehushta to see 
 what she would say Nehushta laughed also, she 
 could hardly tell why. The king's brilliant, active 
 humour was catching. She reached out and thrust 
 her foot into the little slipper that still lay beside 
 her, before she answered. 
 
 "What I said was true in one way and not in 
 another," she said. " I had been crying bitterly, but 
 I stopped when I heard the king come and stand 
 beside me. So it was only the tears the king saw and 
 not the weeping. As for the object," she laughed 
 a little, " it was, perhaps, that I might gain time to 
 dry my eyes." 
 
 Darius shifted his position a little. 
 
 " I know," he said gravely. " And I know why 
 you were weeping, and it is my fault. Will you for 
 give me, princess? I am a hasty man, not accus 
 tomed to think twice when I give my commands." 
 
 Nehushta looked up suddenly with an expression 
 of inquiry. 
 
 "I sent him away very quickly," continued the 
 king. " If I had thought, I would have told him to 
 come and bid you farewell. He would not have will 
 ingly gone without seeing you it was my fault. 
 He will return in twelve days." 
 
 Nehushta was silent and bit her lip as the bitter 
 thought arose in her heart that it was not alone Zoro 
 aster's sudden departure that had pained her. Then 
 1 Herodotus, book iii. chap. Ixxii. 
 
ZOROASTER. 131 
 
 it floated across her mind that the king had purposely 
 sent away her lover in order that he might himself 
 try to win her heart. 
 
 " Why did you send him and not another? " she 
 asked, without looking up, and forgetting all formal 
 ity of speech. 
 
 " Because he is the man of all others whom I can 
 trust, and I needed a faithful messenger," answered 
 Darius, simply. 
 
 Nehushta gazed into the king's face searching for 
 some sign there, but he had spoken earnestly enough. 
 
 "I thought " she began, and then stopped 
 
 short, blushing crimson. 
 
 " You thought," answered Darius, " that I had sent 
 him away never to return because I desire you for my 
 wife. It was natural, but it was unjust. I sent him 
 because I was obliged to do so. If you wish it, I will 
 leave you now, and I will promise you that I will not 
 look upon your face till Zoroaster returns." 
 
 Nehushta looked down and she still blushed. She 
 could hardly believe her ears. 
 
 " Indeed," she faltered, " it were perhaps best 
 
 I mean " she could not finish the sentence. 
 
 Darius rose quietly from his seat: 
 
 " Farewell, princess ; it shall be as you desire," he 
 said gravely, and strode towards the door. His face 
 was pale and his lips set tight. 
 
 Nehushta hesitated and then, in a moment, she 
 comprehended the whole nobility of soul of the young 
 king, a man at whose words the whole land trem 
 bled, who crushed his enemies like empty egg-shells 
 "beneath his feet, and yet who, when he held the 
 
 Vol. 6 Q 
 
132 ZOROASTER. 
 
 woman he loved completely in his power, refused, 
 even for a moment, to intrude his presence upon her 
 against her wish. 
 
 She sprang from her seat and ran to him, and 
 kneeled on one knee and took his hand. He did not 
 look at her, but his own hand trembled violently in 
 hers, and he made as though he would lift her to her 
 feet. 
 
 44 Nay," she cried, " let not my lord be angry with 
 his handmaiden ! Let the king grant me my request, 
 for he is the king of men and of kings ! " In her 
 sudden emotion she spoke once more in the form of a 
 humble subject addressing her sovereign. 
 
 44 Speak, princess," answered Darius. " If it be 
 possible, I will grant your request." 
 
 44 1 would " she stopped, and again the gener 
 ous blood overspread her dark cheek. " I would 
 I know not what I would, saving to thank thee for 
 thy goodness and kindness I was unhappy, and 
 thou hast comforted me. I meant not that it was 
 best that I should not look upon the king's face." 
 She spoke the last words in so low a tone as she bent 
 her head, that Darius could scarcely hear them. But 
 his willing ears interpreted rightly what she said, and 
 he understood. 
 
 44 Shall I come to you to-morrow, princess, at the 
 same hour ? " he asked, almost humbly. 
 
 44 Nay, the king knoweth that the garden is ever 
 full of the women of the court," said Nehushta, hesi 
 tating ; for she thought that it would be a very differ 
 ent matter to be seen from a distance by all the ladies 
 of the palace in conversation with the king. 
 
ZOROASTER. 133 
 
 "Do not fear," answered Darius. "The garden 
 shall be yours. There are other bowers of roses in 
 Shushan whither the women can go. None but you 
 shall enter here, so long as it be your pleasure. 
 Farewell, I will come to you to-morrow at noon.'* 
 
 He turned and looked into her eyes, and then she 
 took his hand and silently placed it upon her forehead 
 in thanks. In a moment he was gone and she could 
 hear his quick tread upon the marble of the steps 
 outside, and in the path through the roses. When 
 she knew that he was out of sight, Nehushta went 
 out and stood in the broad blaze of the noonday sun. 
 She passed her hand over her forehead, as though she 
 had been dazed. It seemed as though a change had 
 come over her and she could not understand it. 
 
 In the glad security of being alone, she ran swiftly 
 down one of the paths, and across by another. Then 
 she stopped short and bent down a great bough of 
 blooming roses and buried her beautiful dark face 
 in the sweet leaves and smelled the perfume, and 
 laughed. 
 
 " Oh ! I am so happy ! " she cried aloud. But her 
 face suddenly became grave, as she tried to under 
 stand what she felt. After all, Zoroaster was only 
 gone for twelve days, and meanwhile she had secured 
 her liberty, the freedom of wandering all day in the 
 beautiful gardens, and she could dream of him to her 
 heart's content. And the letter ? It was a forgery, 
 of course. That wicked queen loved Zoroaster and 
 wished to make Nehushta give him up ! Perhaps she 
 might tell the king something of it when he came on 
 the next day. He would be so royally angry I He 
 
134 ZOROASTER. 
 
 would so hate the lie ! And yet, in some way, it 
 seemed to her that she could not tell Darius of this 
 trouble. He had been so kind, so gentle, as though 
 he had been her brother, instead of the Great King 
 himself, who bore life and death in his right hand 
 and his left, whose shadow was a terror to the world 
 already, and at whose brief, imperious word a nation 
 rose to arms and victory. Was this the terrible 
 Darius ? The man who had slain the impostor with 
 his own sword? who had vanquished rebel Babylon 
 in a few days and brought home four thousand cap 
 tives at his back? He was as gentle as a girl, this 
 savage warrior but when she recalled his features, 
 she remembered the stern look that came into his 
 face when he was serious, she grew thoughtful and 
 wandered slowly down the path, biting a rose-leaf 
 delicately with her small white teeth and thinking 
 many things ; most of all, how she might be revenged 
 upon Atossa for what she had suffered that morning. 
 But Atossa herself was enjoying at that very 
 moment the triumph of the morning and quietly 
 planning how she might continue the torment she 
 had imagined for Nehushta, without allowing its 
 cruelty to diminish, while keeping herself amused 
 and occupied to the fullest extent until Zoroaster 
 should return. It was not long before* she learned 
 from her chief tirewoman that the king had been 
 in the pavilion of the garden with Nehushta that 
 morning, and it at once occurred to her that, if the 
 king returned on the following day, it would be an 
 easy thing to appear while he was with the princess, 
 and by veiled words and allusions to Zoroaster, to 
 
ZOROASTER. 135 
 
 make her rival suffer the most excruciating torments, 
 which she would be forced to conceal from the king. 
 
 But, at the same time, the news gave her cause for 
 serious thought. She had certainly not intended that 
 Nehushta should be left alone for hours with Darius. 
 She knew indeed that the princess loved Zoroaster, 
 but she could not conceive that any woman should be 
 insensible to the consolation the Great King could 
 offer. If affairs took such a turn, she fully intended 
 to allow the king to marry Nehushta, while she con 
 fidently believed it in her power to destroy her just 
 when she had reached the summit of her ambition. 
 
 It chanced that the king chose that day to eat his 
 evening meal in the sole company of Atossa, as he 
 sometimes did when weary of the court ceremony. 
 When, therefore, they reclined at sundown upon a 
 small secluded terrace of the upper story, Atossa 
 found an excellent opportunity of discussing Ne 
 hushta and her doings. 
 
 Darius lay upon a couch on one side of the low 
 table, and Atossa was opposite to him. The air was 
 dry and intensely hot, and on each side two black 
 fan-girls plied their palm-leaves silently with all their 
 might. The king lay back upon his cushions, his 
 head uncovered, and all his shaggy curls of black 
 hair tossed behind him, his broad, strong hand cir 
 cling a plain goblet of gold that stood beside him on 
 the table. For once, he had laid aside his breast 
 plate, and a vest of white and purple fell loosely 
 over his tunic ; but his sword of keen Indian steel lay 
 within reach upon the floor. 
 
 Atossa had raised herself upon her elbow, and her 
 
136 ZOROASTEK. 
 
 clear blue eyes were fixed upon the king's face, 
 thoughtfully, as though expecting that he would say 
 something. Contrary to all custom, she wore a Greek 
 tunic with short sleeves caught at the shoulders by 
 golden buckles, and her fair hair was gathered into a 
 heavy knot, low down, behind her head. Her daz 
 zling arms and throat were bare, but above her right 
 elbow she wore a thick twisted snake of gold, her 
 only ornament. 
 
 " The king is not athirst to-night," said Atossa at 
 last, watching the full goblet that he grasped, but did 
 not raise. 
 
 " I am not always thirsty," answered Darius mood 
 ily. " Would you have me always drunk, like a 
 Babylonian dog?" 
 
 " No ; nor always sober, like a Persian captain." 
 
 "What Persian captain?" asked the king, sud 
 denly looking at her and knitting his brows. 
 
 "Why, like him, whom, for his sobriety you have 
 sent to-day on the way to Nineveh," answered Atossa. 
 
 " I have sent no one to Nineveh to-day." 
 
 44 To Ecbatana then, to inquire whether I told you 
 the truth about my poor servant Phraortes Fravar- 
 tish, as you call him," said the queen, with a flash of 
 spite in her blue eyes. 
 
 44 1 assure you," answered the king, laughing, 44 that 
 it is solely on account of your remarkable beauty that 
 I have not had you strangled. So soon as you grow 
 ugly you shall surely die. It is very unwise of me, 
 as it is!" 
 
 The queen, too, laughed, a low, silvery laugh. 
 
 "I am greatly indebted for my life," said she. "I 
 
ZOROASTEE. 131 
 
 am very beautiful, I am aware, but I am no longer 
 the most beautiful woman in the world." She spoke 
 without a trace of annoyance in her voice or face, as 
 though it were a good jest. 
 
 " No," said Darius, thoughtfully. " I used to think 
 that you were. It is in the nature of man to change 
 his opinion. You are, nevertheless, very beautiful 
 I admire your Greek dress." 
 
 "Shall I send my tirewoman with one like it ta 
 Nehushta?" inquired Atossa, raising her delicate 
 eyebrows, with a sweet smile. 
 
 " You will not need to improve her appearance in 
 order that she may find favour in my eyes," answered 
 Darius, laughing. " But the jest is good. You would 
 rather send her an Indian snake than an ornament." 
 
 "Yes," returned the queen, who understood the 
 king's strange character better than any one. " You 
 cannot in honesty expect me not to hate a woman 
 whom you think more beautiful than me ! It would 
 hardly be natural. It is unfortunate that she should 
 prefer the sober Persian captain to the king himself." 
 
 " It is unfortunate yes fortunate for you, how 
 ever." 
 
 " I mean, it will chafe sadly upon you when you 
 have married her," said Atossa, calmly. 
 
 Darius raised the goblet he still held and setting it 
 to his lips drank it at a draught. As he replaced it 
 on the table, Atossa rose swiftly, and with her own 
 hands refilled it from a golden ewer. The wine was 
 of Shiraz, dark and sweet and strong. The king took 
 her small white hand in his, as she stood beside him, 
 and looked at it. 
 
138 ZOKOASTER. 
 
 "It is a beautiful hand," he said. "Nehushta's 
 fingers are a trifle shorter than yours a little more 
 pointed a little less grasping. Shall I marry Ne- 
 hushta, or not?" He looked up as he asked the 
 question, and he laughed. 
 
 " No," answered Atossa, laughing too. 
 
 "Shall I marry her to Zoroaster?" 
 
 " No," she answered again, but her laugh was less 
 natural. 
 
 " What shall I do with her ? " asked the king. 
 
 " Strangle her ! " replied Atossa, with a little fierce 
 pressure on his hand as he held hers, and without 
 the least hesitation. 
 
 " There would be frequent sudden deaths in Per 
 sia, if you were king," said Darius. 
 
 " It seems to me there are enough slain, as it is," 
 answered the queen. " There are, perhaps, one or 
 two " 
 
 Suddenly the king's face grew grave, and he 
 dropped her hand. 
 
 " Look you ! " he said, " I love jesting. But jest 
 not overmuch with me. Do no harm to Nehushta, 
 or I will make an end of your jesting for ever, by 
 sure means. That white throat of yours would look 
 ill with a bow-string about it." 
 
 The queen bit her lip. The king seldom spoke to 
 her in earnest, and she was frightened. 
 
 On the following day, when she went to the gar 
 den, two tall spearmen guarded the entrance, and as 
 she was about to go in, they crossed their lances over 
 the marble door and silently barred the way. 
 
ZOKOASTER. 139 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 ATOSSA started back in pure astonishment and 
 stared for a moment at the two guards, looking from 
 one to the other, and trying to read their stolid faces. 
 Then she laid her hand on their spears, and would 
 have pushed them aside ; but she could not. 
 
 " Whose hounds are ye ? " she said angrily. " Know 
 ye not the queen ? Make way ! " 
 
 But the two strong soldiers neither answered nor 
 removed their weapons from before the door. 
 
 " Dog-faced slaves ! " she said between her teeth. 
 "I will crucify you both before sundown!" She 
 turned and went away, but she was glad that no one 
 was there in the narrow vestibule before the garden 
 to see her discomfiture. It was the first time in her 
 life she had ever been resisted by an inferior, and she 
 eould not bear it easily. But when she discovered, 
 half an hour later, that the guards were obeying the 
 Great King's orders, she bowed her head silently and 
 went to her apartments to consider what she should 
 do. 
 
 She could do nothing. There was no appeal against 
 the king's word. He had distinctly commanded that 
 no one save Nehushta, not even Atossa herself, was to 
 be allowed to enter ; he had placed the guards there 
 himself the previous day, and had himself given th6 
 order. 
 
140 ZOROASTER. 
 
 For eleven days the door was barred ; but Atossa 
 did not again attempt to enter. Darius would have 
 visited roughly such an offence, and she knew how 
 delicate her position was. She resigned herself and 
 occupied her mind with other things. Daily, an hour 
 before noon, Nehushta swept proudly through the 
 gate, and disappeared among the roses and myrtles of 
 the garden ; and daily, precisely as the sun reached 
 the meridian, the king went in between the spearmen, 
 and disappeared in like manner. 
 
 Darius had grown so suddenly stern and cold in 
 manner towards the queen, that she dared not even 
 mention the subject of the garden to him, fearing a 
 sudden outburst of his anger, which would surely put 
 an end to her existence in the court, and very likely 
 to her life. 
 
 As for Nehushta, she had plentiful cause for reflec 
 tion and much time for dreaming. If the days were 
 not happy, they were at least made bearable for her 
 by the absolute liberty she enjoyed. The king would 
 have given her slaves and jewels and rich gifts with 
 out end, had she been willing to accept them. She 
 said she had all she needed and she said it a little 
 proudly ; only the king's visits grew to be the centre 
 of the day, and each day the visit lengthened, till it 
 came to be nearly evening when Darius issued from 
 the gate. 
 
 She always waited for him in the eight-sided 
 pavilion, and as their familiarity grew, the king 
 would not even permit her to rise when he came, nor 
 to use any of those forms of the court speech which 
 were so distasteful to him. He simply sat himself 
 
ZOROASTER. 141 
 
 down beside her, and talked to her and listened to 
 her answers, as though he were one of his own sub 
 jects, no more hampered by the cares and state of 
 royalty than any soldier in the kingdom. 
 
 It was a week since Zoroaster had mounted to ride 
 to Ecbatana, and Darius sat as usual upon the mar 
 ble bench by the side of Nehushta, who rested among 
 the cushions, talking now without constraint upon 
 all matters that chanced to occur as subjects of con 
 versation. She thought Darius was more silent than 
 usual, and his dark face was pale. He seemed weary, 
 as though from some great struggle, and presently 
 Nehushta stopped speaking and waited to see whether 
 the king would say anything. 
 
 During the silence nothing was heard saving the 
 plash of the little fountain, and the low soft ripple of 
 the tiny waves that rocked themselves against the 
 edge of the basin. 
 
 "Do you know, Nehushta," he said at last, in a 
 weary voice, "that I am doing one of the worst 
 actions of my life ? " 
 
 Nehushta started, and the shadows in her face grew 
 darker. 
 
 " Say rather the kindest action you ever did," she 
 murmured. 
 
 " If it is not bad, it is foolish," said Darius, resting 
 his chin upon his hand and leaning forward. "I 
 would rather it were foolish than bad I fear me it 
 is both." 
 
 Nehushta could guess well enough what it was he 
 would say. She knew she could have turned the 
 subject, or laughed, or interrupted him in many 
 
142 ZOROASTER. 
 
 ways ; but she did none of these things. An inde* 
 scribable longing seized her to hear him say that he 
 loved her. What could it matter ? He was so loyal 
 and good that he could never be more than a friend. 
 He was the king of the world had he not been 
 honest and kind, he would have needed no wooing to 
 do as he pleased to do, utterly and entirely. A word 
 from his lips and the name of Zoroaster would be but 
 the memory of a man dead ; and again a word, and 
 Nehushta would be the king's wife ! What need had 
 he of concealment, or of devious ways ? He was the 
 king of the earth, whose shadow was life and death, 
 whose slightest wish was a law to be enforced by 
 hundreds of thousands of warriors ! There was noth 
 ing between him and his desires nothing but that 
 inborn justice and truth, in which he so royally be 
 lieved. Nehushta felt that she could trust him, and 
 she longed out of mere curiosity, she thought to 
 hear him speak words of love to her. It would only 
 be for a moment they would be so soon spoken; 
 and at her desire, he would surely not speak them 
 again. It seemed so sweet, she knew not why, to 
 make this giant of despotic power do as she pleased ; 
 to feel that she could check him, or let him speak 
 him whom all obeyed and feared, as they feared death 
 itself. 
 
 She looked up quietly, as she answered : 
 "How can it be either bad or foolish of you to 
 make others so happy? " 
 
 " It seems as though it could be neither and yet, 
 all my reason tells me it is both," replied the king 
 earnestly. "Here I sit beside you, day after day, 
 
ZOROASTER. 143 
 
 deceiving myself with the thought that I am making 
 your time pass pleasantly till " 
 
 " There is not any deception in that," interrupted 
 Nehushta gently. Somehow she did not wish him to 
 pronounce Zoroaster's name. " I can never tell you 
 how grateful I am " 
 
 "It is I who am grateful," interrupted the king in 
 his turn. " It is I who am grateful that I am allowed 
 to be daily with you, and that you speak with me, 
 
 and seem glad when I come " He hesitated and 
 
 stopped. 
 
 "What is there that is bad and foolish in that?" 
 asked Nehushta, with a sudden smile, as she looked 
 up into his face. 
 
 " There is more than I like to think," answered the 
 king. " You say the time passes pleasantly for you. 
 Do you think it is less pleasant for me ? " His voice 
 sank to a deep, soft tone, as he continued : " I sit here 
 day after day, and day after day I love you more and 
 more. I love you where is the use of concealing 
 that if I could conceal it ? You know it. Perhaps 
 you pity me, for you do not love me. You pity me 
 who hold the whole earth under my feet as an Egyp 
 tian juggler stands upon a ball, and rolls it whither 
 he will." He ceased suddenly. 
 
 "Indeed I would that you did not love me," said 
 Nehushta very gravely. She looked down. The 
 pleasure of hearing the king's words was indeed 
 exquisite, and she feared that her eyes might betray 
 her. But she did not love him. She wondered what 
 he would say next. 
 
 " You might as well wish that dry pastures should 
 
144 ZOROASTER. 
 
 not burn when the sun shines on them, and there is 
 no rain," he answered with a passing bitterness. " It 
 is at least a satisfaction that my love does not harm 
 you that you are willing to have me for your 
 friend " 
 
 " Willing ! Your friendship is almost the sweetest 
 thing I know," exclaimed the princess. The king's 
 eyes flashed darkly. 
 
 " Almost ! Yes, truly my friendship and another 
 man's love are the sweetest things ! What would my 
 friendship be without his love ? By Auramazda and 
 the six Amshaspands of Heaven, I would it were my 
 love and his friendship! I would that Zoroaster 
 were the king, and I Zoroaster, the king's servant 
 I would give all Persia and Media, Babylon and 
 Egypt, and all the uttermost parts of my kingdom, 
 to hear your sweet voice say : ' Darius, I love thee ! ' 
 I would give my right hand, I would give my heart 
 from my breast and my soul from my body my 
 life and my strength, and my glory and my kingdom 
 would I give to hear you say : 4 Come, my beloved, 
 and put thine arms about me ! ' Ah, child ! you 
 know not what my love is how it is higher than 
 the heavens in worshipping you, and broader than 
 the earth to be filled with you, and deeper than the 
 depths of the sea, to change not, but to abide for you 
 always." 
 
 The king's voice was strong, and the power of his 
 words found wings in it, and seemed to fly forth 
 irresistibly with a message that demanded an answer. 
 Nehushta regretted within herself that she had let 
 him speak but for all the world she could not have 
 
ZOROASTER. 145 
 
 given up the possession of the words he had spoken. 
 She covered her eyes with one hand and remained 
 silent for she could say nothing. A new emotion 
 had got possession of her, and seemed to close her 
 lips. 
 
 " You are silent," continued the king. " You are 
 right. What should you answer me ? My voice 
 sounds like the raving of a madman, chained by a 
 chain that he cannot break. If I had the strength of 
 the mountains, I could not move you. I know it. 
 All things I have but this this love of yours that 
 you have given to another. I would I had it! I 
 should have the strength to surpass the deeds of men, 
 had I your love ! Who is this whom you love ? A cap 
 tain ? A warrior ? I tell you because you have so 
 honoured him, so raised him upon the throne of your 
 heart, I will honour him too, and I will raise him 
 above all men, and all the nation shall bow before 
 him. I will make a decree that he shall be wor 
 shipped as a god this man whom you have made a 
 god of by your love. I will build a great temple for 
 you two, and I will go up with all the people, and 
 fall down and bow before you, and worship you, and 
 love you with every sinew and bone of my body, and 
 with every hope and joy and sorrow of my soul. He 
 whom you love shall ask, and whatsoever he asks I 
 will give to him and to you. There shall not be any 
 thing left in the whole world that you desire, but I 
 will give it to you. Am I not the king of the whole 
 earth the king of all living things but you ? " 
 
 Darius breathed savagely hard through his clenched 
 teeth, and rising suddenly, paced the pavement be- 
 
146 ZOROASTER. 
 
 tween Nehushta and the fountain. She was silent 
 still, overcome with a sort of terror at his words 
 words, every one of which he was able to fulfil, if he 
 so chose. Presently he stood still before her. 
 
 " Said I not well, that I rave as a madman that 
 I speak as a fool without understanding ? What can 
 I give you that you want? Or what thing can I 
 devise that you have need of ? Have you not all that 
 the world holds for mortal woman and living man ? 
 Do you not love, and are you not loved in return? 
 Have you not all all all ? Ah ! woe is me that 
 I am lord over the nations, and have not a drop of the 
 waters of peace wherewith to quench the thirst of my 
 tormented soul ! Woe is me that I rule the world 
 and trample the whole earth beneath my feet, and 
 cannot have the one thing that all the earth holds 
 which is good ! Woe is me, Nehushta, that you have 
 cruelly stolen my peace from me, and I find it not 
 nor shall find it for evermore ! " 
 
 The strong dark man stood wringing his hands 
 together ; his face was pale as the dead, his black eyes 
 were blazing with a mad fire. Nehushta dared not 
 look on the tempest she had roused, but she trembled 
 and clasped her hands to her breast and looked down. 
 
 "Nay, you are right," he cried bitterly. " Answer 
 me nothing, for you can have nothing to answer ! Is 
 it your fault that I am mad ? Or is it your doing 
 that I love you so ? Has any one sinned in this ? I 
 have seen you I saw you for a brief moment stand 
 ing in the door of your tent and seeing, I loved you, 
 and love you, and shall love you till the heavens are 
 rolled together and the scroll of all death is fullJ 
 
ZOROASTER. 147 
 
 There is nothing, nothing that you can say or do. It 
 is not your fault it is not your sin ; but it is by you 
 and through you that I am undone, broken as the 
 tree in the storm of the mountains, burned up and 
 parched as the beast perishing in the sun of the 
 desert for lack of water, torn asunder and rent into 
 pieces as the rope that breaks at the well ! By you, 
 and for you, and through you, I am ruined and lost 
 lost lost for ever in the hell of my wretched 
 greatness, in the immeasurable death of my own hor 
 rible despair ! " 
 
 With a wild movement of agony, Darius fell at 
 Nehushta's feet, prostrate upon the marble floor, and 
 buried his face in the skirts of her mantle, utterly 
 over-mastered and broken down by the tumult of his 
 passion. 
 
 Nehushta was not heartless. Of a certainty she 
 would have pitied any one in such distress and grief, 
 even had the cause thereof come less near to herself. 
 But, in all the sudden emotion she felt, the pity, the 
 fear, and the self-reproach, there was joined a vague 
 feeling that no man ever spoke as this man, that no 
 lover ever poured forth such abundant love before, 
 and in the dim suspicion of something greater than 
 she had ever known, her fear and her pity grew 
 stronger, and strove with each other. 
 
 At first she could not speak, but she put forth her 
 delicate hand and laid it tenderly on the king's 
 thick black hair, as gently as a mother might soothe 
 a passionate child ; and he suffered it to rest there. 
 And presently she raised his head and laid it in her 
 lap, and smoothed his forehead with her soft fingers, 
 and spoke to him. 
 
148 ZOBOASTER. 
 
 " You make me very sad," she almost whispered. 
 "I would that you might be loved as you deserve 
 love that one more worthy than I might give you 
 all I cannot give." 
 
 He opened his dark eyes that were now dull and 
 weary, and he looked up to her face. 
 
 "There is none more worthy than you," he an 
 swered in low and broken tones. 
 
 " Hush," she said gently, " there are many. Will 
 you forgive me and forget me ? Will you blot out 
 this hour from your remembrance, and go forth and 
 do those great and noble deeds which you came into 
 the world to perform ? There is none greater than 
 you, none nobler, none more generous." 
 
 Darius lifted his head from her knee, and sprang 
 to his feet. 
 
 "I will do all things, but I will not forget," he 
 said. " I will do the great and the good deeds, for 
 you. I will be generous, for you ; noble, for you ; 
 while the world lasts my deeds shall endure; and 
 with them, the memory that they were done for you ! 
 Grant me only one little thing." 
 
 " Ask anything everything," answered Nehushta, 
 in troubled tones. 
 
 " Nehushta, you know how truly I love you nay, 
 I will not be mad again ; fear not ! Tell me this 
 tell me that if you had not loved Zoroaster, you 
 would have loved me." 
 
 Nehushta blushed deeply and then turned pale. 
 She rose to her feet, and took the king's outstretched 
 hands. 
 
 "Indeed, indeed, you are most worthy of love 
 
ZOROASTER. 149 
 
 Darius, I could have loved you well." Her voice 
 was very low, and the tears stood in her eyes. 
 
 " The grace of the All- Wise God bless thee ! " cried 
 the king, and it was as though a sudden bright light 
 shone upon his face. Then he kissed her two hands 
 fervently, and with one long look into her sorrowful 
 eyes, he turned and left her. 
 
 But no man saw the king that day, nor did any 
 know where he was, saving the two spearmen who 
 stood at the door of his chamber. Within, he lay 
 upon his couch, dry-eyed and stark, staring at the 
 painted carvings of the ceiling. 
 
150 ZOROASTER. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE time passed, and it was eleven days since 
 Zoroaster had set out. The king and Nehushta had 
 continued to meet in the garden as before, and neither 
 had ever referred to the day when the torrent of his 
 heart had been suddenly let loose. The hours sped 
 quietly and swiftly, without any event of importance. 
 Only the strange bond, half friendship and half love, 
 had grown stronger than before ; and Nehushta won 
 dered how it was that she could love two men so 
 well, and yet so differently. Indeed they were very 
 different men. She loved Zoroaster, and yet it some 
 times seemed as though he would more properly have 
 filled the place of a friend than of a lover. Darius 
 she had accepted as her friend, but there were 
 moments when she almost forgot that he was not 
 something more. She tried to think of her meeting 
 with Zoroaster, whether it would be like former meet 
 ings, whether her heart would beat more strongly, 
 or not beat at all when her lips touched his as of old. 
 Her judgment was utterly disturbed and her heart 
 no longer knew itself. She gave herself over to the 
 pleasure of the king's society in the abandonment of 
 the moment, half foreseeing that some great change 
 was at hand, over which she could exercise no 
 control. 
 
 The sun was just risen, but the bridge over the 
 
ZOROASTER. 151 
 
 quickly flowing Choaspes was still in the shadow cast 
 over the plain by the fortress and the palace, when 
 two horsemen appeared upon the road from Nineven, 
 riding at full gallop, and, emerging from the blue 
 mist that still lay over the meadows, crossed the 
 bridge and continued at full speed towards the ascent 
 to the palace. 
 
 The one rider was a dark, ill-favoured man, whose 
 pale flaccid cheeks and drooping form betrayed the 
 utmost fatigue. A bolster was bound across the 
 withers of his horse and another on the croup, so that 
 he sat as in a sort of chair, but he seemed hardly able 
 to support himself even with this artificial assistance, 
 and his body swayed from side to side as his horse 
 bounded over the sharp curve at the foot of the hill. 
 His mantle was white with dust, and the tiara upon 
 his head was reduced to a shapeless and dusty piece 
 of crumpled linen, while his uncurled hair and tangled 
 beard hung forward together in disorderly and dust- 
 clotted ringlets. 
 
 His companion was Zoroaster, fair and erect upon 
 his horse, as though he had not ridden three hundred 
 farsangs in eleven days. There was dust indeed upon 
 his mantle and garments, as upon those of the man 
 he conducted, but his long fair hair and beard blew 
 back from his face as he held his head erect to the 
 breeze he made in riding, and the light steel cap 
 was bright and burnished on his forehead. A slight 
 flush reddened his pale cheeks as he looked upward 
 to the palace, and thought that his ride was over and 
 his errand accomplished. He was weary, almost to 
 death ; but his frame was elastic and erect still. 
 
152 ZOROASTER. 
 
 As they rode up the steep, the guards at the outer 
 gate, who had already watched them for twenty 
 minutes as they came up the road, mere moving 
 specks under the white mist, shouted to those within 
 that Zoroaster was returning, and the officer of the 
 gate went at once to announce his coming to the 
 king. Darius himself received the message, and fol 
 lowed the officer down the steps to the tower of the 
 gateway, reaching the open space within, just as the 
 two riders galloped under the square entrance and 
 drew rein upon the pavement of the little court. 
 The spearmen sprang to their feet and filed into rank 
 as the cry came down the steps that the king was 
 approaching, and Zoroaster leaped lightly from his 
 horse, and bid Phraortes do likewise ; but the wretched 
 Median could scarce move hand or foot without help, 
 and would have fallen headlong, had not two stout 
 spearmen lifted him to the ground, and held him upon 
 his legs. 
 
 Darius marched quickly up to the pair and stood 
 still, while Zoroaster made his brief salutation. Phra 
 ortes, who between deadly fatigue and deadly fear of 
 his life, had no strength left in him, fell forward upon 
 his knees as the two soldiers relaxed their hold upon 
 his arms. 
 
 " Hail, king of kings ! Live for ever ! " said Zoro 
 aster. " I have fulfilled thy bidding. He is alive." 
 
 Darius laughed grimly as he eyed the prostrate 
 figure of the Median. 
 
 " Thou art a faithful servant, Zoroaster/' he an 
 swered, " and thou ridest as the furies that pursue the 
 souls of the wicked as the devils of the mountains 
 
ZOROASTER. 153 
 
 after a liar. He would not have lasted much farther, 
 this bundle of sweating dust. Get up, fellow ! " he 
 said, touching Phraortes's head with his toe. " Thou 
 liest grovelling there like a swine in a ditch." 
 
 The soldiers raised the exhausted man to his feet. 
 The king turned to Zoroaster. 
 
 " Tell me, thou rider of whirlwinds," he said, laugh 
 ing, " will a man more readily tell the truth, or speak 
 lies, when he is tired ? " 
 
 " A man who is tired will do whichever will procure 
 him rest," returned Zoroaster, with a smile. 
 
 "Then I will tell this fellow that the sooner he 
 speaks the truth the sooner he may sleep," said the 
 king. Going near to Zoroaster, he added in an under 
 tone : " Before thou thyself restest, go and tell the 
 queen privately that she send away her slaves, and 
 await me and him thou hast brought in a few min 
 utes. This fellow must have a little refreshment, or 
 he will die upon the steps." 
 
 Zoroaster turned and went up the broad stairs, and 
 threaded the courts and passages, and mounted to the 
 terrace where he had first met Atossa before the king's 
 apartments. There was no one there, and he was 
 about to enter under the great curtain, when the 
 queen herself came out and met him face to face. 
 Though it was yet very early, she was attired with 
 more than usual care, and the faint colours of her 
 dress and the few ornaments she wore, shone and 
 gleamed brightly in the level beams of the morning 
 sun. She had guessed that Zoroaster would return 
 that day, and she was prepared for him. 
 
 As she came suddenly upon him, she gave a little 
 cry, that might well have been feigned. 
 
154 ZOROASTER. 
 
 " What I Are you already returned ? " she asked, 
 and the joy her voice expressed was genuine. He 
 looked so godlike as he stood there in the sunlight 
 her heart leaped for joy of only seeing him. 
 
 " Yes I bear this message from the Great King to 
 the queen. The Great King commands that the 
 queen send away her slaves, and await the king and 
 him I have brought with me, in the space of a few 
 minutes." 
 
 "It is well," answered Atossa. "There are no 
 slaves here and I await the king." She was silent a 
 moment. " Are you not glad to have come back ? " 
 she asked, presently. 
 
 " Yes," said Zoroaster, whose face brightened 
 quickly as he spoke. " I am indeed glad to be here 
 again. Would not any one be glad to have finished 
 such a journey ? " 
 
 The queen stood with her back to the curtained 
 doorway and could see down the whole length of the 
 balcony to the head of the staircase. Zoroaster faced 
 her and the door. As he spoke, Atossa's quick eyes 
 caught sight of a figure coming quickly up the last 
 steps of the stairway. She recognised Nehushta in 
 stantly, but no trembling of her lids or colouring of 
 her cheek, betrayed that she had seen the approach 
 of her enemy. She fixed her deep-blue eyes upon 
 Zoroaster's, and gazing somewhat sadly, she spoke in 
 low and gentle tones : 
 
 " The time has seemed long to me since you rode 
 away, Zoroaster," she said. 
 
 Zoroaster, astonished at the manner in which she 
 spoke, turned pale, and looked down coldly at her 
 
ZOROASTER. 155 
 
 beautiful face. At that moment Nehushta stepped 
 upon the smooth marble pavement of the balcony. 
 
 Still Atossa kept her QJQS fixed on Zoroaster's. 
 
 "You answer me nothing?" she said in broken 
 tones. Then suddenly, as though acting under an 
 irresistible impulse, she threw her arms wildly about 
 his neck and kissed him passionately again and again. 
 
 " Oh Zoroaster, Zoroaster, my beloved ! " she cried, 
 " you must never, never leave me again ! " And 
 again she kissed him, and fell forward upon his 
 breast, holding him so tightly that, for a moment, he 
 did not know which way to move. He put his hands 
 upon her shoulders, to her waist to try to push her 
 from him. But it was in vain ; she clung to him 
 desperately and sobbed upon his breast. 
 
 In the sudden and fearful embarrassment in which 
 he was placed, he did not hear a short, low groan far 
 off behind him, nor the sound of quickly retreating 
 steps upon the stairs. But Atossa heard and rejoiced 
 fiercely; and when she looked up, Nehushta was 
 gone, with the incurable wound in her breast. 
 
 Atossa suddenly let her arms fall from the war 
 rior's neck, looked into his eyes once, and then, with 
 a short, sharp cry, she buried her face in her hands 
 and leaned back against the door-post by the heavy 
 striped curtain. 
 
 " Oh, my God ! What have I done ? " she moaned. 
 
 Zoroaster stood for one moment in hesitation and 
 doubt. It seemed as though he had received a sud 
 den revelation of numberless things he had never 
 understood. He spoke quietly, at last, with a great 
 effort, and his voice sounded kindly. 
 Vol. 6 E 
 
156 ZOROASTER. 
 
 " I thank the good powers that I do not love thee 
 and I would that thou didst not love me. For I 
 am the Great King's servant, faithful to death and 
 if I loved thee I should be a liar, and a coward, and 
 the basest of all mankind. Forget, I pray thee, that 
 thou hast spoken, and let me depart in peace. For 
 the Great King is at hand, and thou must not suffer 
 that he find thee weeping, lest he think thou f earest 
 to meet Phraortes the Median face to face. Forget, 
 I pray thee and forgive thy servant if he have 
 done anything amiss." 
 
 Atossa looked up suddenly. Her eyes were bright 
 and clear, 'and there was not a trace of tears in them. 
 She laughed harshly. 
 
 "I weep before the king ! You do not know 
 me. Go, if thou wilt. Farewell, Zoroaster," her 
 voice softened a little, " farewell. It may be that 
 you shall live, but it may be that you shall die, 
 because I love you." 
 
 Zoroaster bent his head in respectful homage, and 
 turned and went his way. The queen looked after 
 him, and as he disappeared upon the staircase, she 
 began to smooth her head-dress and the locks of her 
 golden hair, and for a moment, she smiled sweetly to 
 herself. 
 
 " That was a mortal wound, well dealt," she said 
 aloud. But as she gazed out over the city, her face 
 grew grave and thoughtful. " But I do love him," 
 she added softly, "I do I do I loved him long 
 ago," She turned quickly, as though fearing some 
 one had overheard her. " How foolish I am ! " she 
 exclaimed impatiently; and she turned and passed 
 
ZOROASTER. 157 
 
 away under the heavy curtain, leaving the long 
 balcony once more empty, save for the rush of a 
 swallow that now and then flew in between the 
 pillars, and hovered for a moment high up by the 
 cornice, and sped out again into the golden sunshine 
 of the summer morning. 
 
 Zoroaster left Atossa with the hope of finding 
 some means of seeing Nehushta. But it was impos 
 sible. He knew well that he could not so far pre 
 sume as to go to her apartment by the lower passage 
 where he had last seen her on the day of his depart 
 ure for Ecfoatana, and the slave whom he despatched 
 from the main entrance of the women's part of the 
 palace returned with the brief information that Ne 
 hushta was alone in her chamber, and that no one 
 dared disturb her. 
 
 Worn cut with fatigue and excitement, and scarcely 
 able to think connectedly upon the strange event of 
 the morning, Zoroaster wearily resigned himself to 
 seeing Nehushta at a later hour, and entering his 
 own cool chamber, lay down to rest. It was evening 
 when he awoke. 
 
 Meanwhile the king commanded that Phraortes 
 should be fed and refreshed, and immediately brought 
 to the queen's apartment. Half an hour after Zoro 
 aster had left her, Atossa was in the chamber which 
 was devoted to her toilet. She sat alone before her 
 great silver mirror, calmly awaiting the turn of 
 events. Some instinct had told her that she would 
 feel stronger to resist an attack in the sanctuary of 
 her small inner room, where every object was im 
 pregnated with her atmosphere, and where the lat- 
 
158 ZOROASTER. 
 
 tices of the two windows were so disposed that she 
 would be able to see the expression of her adver 
 saries without exposing her own face to the light. 
 
 She leaned forward and looked closely at herself 
 in the glass, and with a delicate brush of camel's 
 hair smoothed one eyebrow that was a little ruffled. 
 It had touched Zoroaster's tunic when she threw 
 herself upon his breast ; she looked at herself with a 
 genuine artistic pleasure, and smiled. 
 
 Before long she heard the sound of leathern shoes 
 upon the pavement outside, and the curtain was sud 
 denly lifted. Darius pushed Phraortes into the 
 room by the shoulders and made him stand before 
 the queen. She rose and made a salutation, and 
 then sat down again in her carved chair. The king 
 threw himself upon a heap of thick, hard cushions 
 that formed a divan on one side of the room, and 
 prepared to watch attentively the two persons before 
 him. 
 
 Phraortes, trembling with fear and excessive 
 fatigue, fell upon his knees before Atossa, and 
 touched the floor with his forehead. 
 
 " Get upon thy feet, man," said the king shortly, 
 " and render an account of the queen's affairs." 
 
 "Stay," said Atossa, calmly, "for what purpose 
 has the Great King brought this man before me ? " 
 
 "For my pleasure," answered Darius. "Speak 
 fellow ! Render thy account, and if I like not the 
 manner of thy counting, I will crucify thee." 
 
 "The king liveth for ever," said Phraortes feebly, 
 his flaccid cheeks trembling, as his limbs moved un 
 easily. 
 
ZOROASTER. 159 
 
 "The queen also liveth for ever," remarked 
 Darius. " What is the state of the queen's lands at 
 Ecbatana?" 
 
 At this question Phraortes seemed to take courage, 
 and began a rapid enumeration of the goods, cattle 
 and slaves. 
 
 "This year I have sown two thousand acres of 
 wheat which will soon be ripe for the harvest. I 
 have sown also a thousand acres with other grain. 
 The fields of water-melons are yielding with amazing 
 abundance since I caused the great ditches to be dug 
 last winter towards the road. As for the fruit trees 
 and the vinelands, they are prospering ; but at pres 
 ent we have not had rain to push the first budding 
 of the grapes. The olives will doubtless be very 
 abundant this year, for last year there were few, as is 
 the manner with that fruit. As for the yielding of 
 these harvests of grain and wine and oil and fruit, I 
 doubt not that the whole sales will amount to an 
 hundred talents of gold." 
 
 " Last year they only yielded eighty-five," remarked 
 the queen, who had affected to listen to the whole 
 account with the greatest interest. " I am well 
 pleased, Phraortes. Tell me of the cattle and sheep 
 and of the slaves ; whether many have died this 
 year." 
 
 " There are five hundred head of cattle, and one 
 hundred calves dropped in the last two months. 
 From the scarcity of rain this year, the fodder has 
 been almost destroyed, and there is little hay from 
 the winter. I have, therefore, sent great numbers 
 of slaves with camels to the farther plains to east- 
 
160 ZOROASTER. 
 
 ward, whence they return daily with great loads of 
 hay of a coarse kind, but serviceable. As for the 
 flocks, they are now pasturing for the summer upon 
 the slopes of the Zagros mountains. There were 
 six thousand head of sheep and two thousand head 
 of goats at the shearing in the spring, and the wool 
 is already sold for eight talents. As for the slaves, 
 I have provided for them after a new fashion. There 
 were many young men from the captives that came 
 after the war two -years ago. For these I have pur 
 chased wives of the dealers from Scythia. These 
 Scythians sell all their women at a low price. They 
 are hideous barbarians, speaking a strange tongue, 
 but they are very strong and enduring, and I doubt 
 not they will multiply exceedingly and bring large 
 profits " 
 
 " Thou art extraordinarily fluent in thy speech," 
 interrupted the king. "But there are details that 
 the queen wishes to know. Thou art aware that in 
 a frontier country like the province of Ecbatana, it is 
 often necessary to protect the crops and the flocks 
 from robbers. Hast thou therefore thought of arm 
 ing any of these slaves for this purpose ? " 
 
 " Let not the king be angry with his servant," 
 returned Phraortes, without hesitation. " There are 
 many thousand soldiers of the king in Ecbatana, and 
 the horsemen traverse the country continually. 1 
 have not armed any of the slaves, for I supposed we 
 were safe in the protection of the king's men. 
 Nevertheless, if the Great King command me " 
 
 " Thou couldst arm them immediately, I suppose ? " 
 interrupted Darius. He watched Atossa narrowly; 
 her face was in the shadow. 
 
ZOROASTER. 161 
 
 " Nay," replied Phraortes, " for we have no arms. 
 But if the king will give us swords and spear 
 heads " 
 
 " To what end ? " asked Atossa. She was perfectly 
 calm since she saw that there was no fear of Phraortes 
 making a mistake upon this vital point. " What need 
 have I of a force to protect lands that are all within 
 a day's journey of the king's fortress ? The idea of 
 carrying weapons would make all the slaves idle and 
 quarrelsome. Leave them their spades and their 
 ploughs, and let them labour while the soldiers fight. 
 How many slaves have I now, Phraortes ? " 
 
 " There were, at the last return, fourteen thousand 
 seven hundred and fifty-three men, ten thousand two 
 hundred and sixteen women, and not less than five 
 thousand children. But I expect " 
 
 " What can you do with so many? " asked Darius, 
 turning sharply to the queen. 
 
 " Many of them work in the carpet-looms," answered 
 Phraortes. " The queen receives fifty talents yearly 
 from the sales of the carpets." 
 
 " All the carpets in the king's apartments are made 
 in my looms," said Atossa, with a smile. "I am a 
 great merchant." 
 
 "I have no doubt I paid you dearly enough for 
 them, too," said the king, who was beginning to be 
 weary of the examination. He had firmly expected 
 that either the Median agent, or the queen herself, 
 would betray some emotion at the mention of arming 
 the slaves, for he imagined that if Atossa had really 
 planned any outbreak, she would undoubtedly have 
 employed the large force of men she had at her dis- 
 
162 ZOROASTER 
 
 posal, by finding them weapons and promising them 
 their liberty in the event of success. 
 
 He was disappointed at the appearance of the man 
 Phraortes. He had supposed him a strong, determined 
 man of imperious ways and turbulent instincts, who 
 could be easily led into revolution and sedition from 
 the side of his ambition. He saw before him the 
 traditional cunning, quick-witted merchant of Media, 
 pale-faced and easily frightened ; no more capable of a 
 daring stroke of usurpation than a Jewish pedlar of 
 Babylon. He was evidently a mere tool in the hands 
 of the queen ; and Darius stamped impatiently upon 
 the floor when he thought that he had perhaps been 
 deceived after all that the queen had really written 
 to Phraortes simply on account of her property, and 
 that there was no revolution at all to be feared. 
 Impulsive to the last degree, when the king had read 
 the letter to Phraortes, his first thought had been to 
 see the man for himself, to ask him a few questions 
 and to put him at once to death if he found him un 
 truthful. The man had arrived, broken with exces 
 sive fatigue and weak from the fearful journey ; but 
 under the very eye of the king, he had nevertheless 
 given a clear and concise account of himself; and, 
 though he betrayed considerable fear, he gave no 
 reason for supposing that what he said was not true. 
 As for the queen, she sat calmly by, polishing her 
 nails with a small instrument of ivory, occasionally 
 asking a question, or making a remark, as though it 
 were all the most natural occurrence in the world. 
 
 Darius was impetuous and fierce. His intuitive 
 decisions were generally right, and he acted upon 
 
ZOEOASTER. 163 
 
 them instantly, without hesitation; but he had no 
 cunning and little strategy. He was always for doing 
 and never for waiting ; and to the extreme rapidity 
 of his movements he owed the success he had. In 
 the first three years of his reign he fought nineteen 
 battles and vanquished nine self-styled kings ; but he 
 never, on any occasion, detected a conspiracy, nor de 
 stroyed a revolution before it had broken out openly. 
 He was often, therefore, at the mercy of Atossa and 
 frequently found himself baffled by her power of 
 concealing a subtle lie under the letter of truth, and 
 by her supreme indifference and coldness of manner 
 under the most trying circumstances. In his simple 
 judgment it was absolutely impossible for any one to 
 lie directly without betraying some hesitation, and 
 each time he endeavoured to place Atossa in some 
 difficult position, when she must, he thought, inevi 
 tably betray herself, he was met by her inexplicable 
 calm ; which he was forced to attribute to the fact 
 that she was in the right no matter how the evi 
 dence might be against her. 
 
 The king decided that he had made a mistake in 
 the present instance and that Phraortes was innocent 
 of any idea of revolution. He could not conceive 
 how such a man should be capable of executing a 
 daring stroke of policy. He determined to let him 
 
 g- 
 
 " You ought to be well satisfied with the result of 
 
 these accounts," he said, staring hard at Atossa. 
 " You see you know more of your affairs, and sooner, 
 than you could have known if you had sent your 
 letter. Let this fellow go, and tell him to send his 
 
164 ZOROASTER. 
 
 accounts regularly in future, or he will have the 
 pains of riding hither in haste to deliver them. 
 Thou mayest go now and take thy rest," he added, 
 rising and pushing the willing Phraortes before him 
 out of the room. 
 
 " Thou hast done well. I am satisfied with thee, 
 Phraortes," said Atossa coldly. 
 
 Once more the beautiful queen was left alone, and 
 once more she looked at herself in the silver mirror, 
 somewhat more critically than before. It seemed to 
 her as she gazed and turned first one side of her face 
 to the light and then the other, that she was a shade 
 paler than usual. The change would have been im 
 perceptible to any one else, but she noticed it with 
 a little frown of disapproval. But presently she 
 smoothed her brow and smiled happily to herself. 
 She had sustained a terrible danger successfully. 
 
 She had hoped to have been able to warn Phraortes 
 how to act; but, partly because the meeting had 
 taken place so soon after his arrival, and partly 
 because she had employed a portion of that brief 
 interval with Zoroaster and in the scene she had 
 suddenly invented and acted, she had been obliged 
 to meet her chief agent without a moment's prepa 
 ration, and she knew enough of his cowardly char 
 acter to fear lest he should betray her and throw 
 himself upon the king's mercy as a reward for the 
 information he could give. But the crucial moment 
 had passed successfully and there was nothing more 
 to fear. Atossa threw herself upon the couch where 
 the king had sat, and abandoned herself to the deli 
 cious contemplation of the pain she must have given 
 
ZOROASTER. 165 
 
 in showing herself to Nehushta in Zoroaster's arms. 
 She was sure that as the princess could not have seen 
 Zoroaster's face, she must have thought that it was 
 he who was embracing the queen. She must have 
 suffered horribly, if she really loved him 1 
 
166 ZOROASTER. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 WHEN Darius left the queen, he gave over the 
 miserable Phraortes to the guards, to be cared for, 
 and bent his steps towards the gardens. It was yet 
 early, but he wished to be alone, and he supposed 
 that Nehushta would come there before noon, as was 
 her wont. Meanwhile, he wished to be free of the 
 court and of the queen. Slowly he entered the mar 
 ble gate and walked up the long walk of roses, pluck 
 ing a leaf now and then, and twisting it in his fingers, 
 scenting the fresh blossoms with an almost boyish 
 gladness, and breathing in all the sweet warmth of 
 the summer morning. He had made a mistake, and 
 he was glad to be away, where he could calmly reflect 
 upon the reason of his being deceived. 
 
 He wandered on until he came to the marble pavil 
 ion, and would have gone on to stray farther into the 
 gardens, but that he caught sight of a woman's man 
 tle upon the floor as he passed by the open doorway. 
 He went up the few steps and entered. 
 
 Nehushta lay upon the marble pavement at her full 
 length, her arms extended above her head. Her face 
 was ghastly pale and her parted lips were white. She 
 looked as one dead. Her white linen tiara had almost 
 fallen from her heavy hair, and the long black locks 
 streamed upon the stone in thick confusion. Her 
 fingers were tightly clenched, and on her face was 
 
ZOROASTER. 167 
 
 such an expression of agony, as Darius had never 
 dreamed of, nor seen in those dead in battle. 
 
 The king started back in horror as he caught sight 
 of the prostrate figure. He thought she was dead 
 murdered, perhaps until, as he gazed, he saw a faint 
 movement of breathing. Then he sprang forward, 
 and kneeled, and raised her head upon his knee, and 
 chafed her temples and her hands. He could reach 
 the little fountain as he knelt, and he gathered some 
 water in his palm and sprinkled it upon her face. 
 
 At last she opened her eyes then closed them 
 wearily again then opened them once more in qu^ck 
 astonishment, and recognised the king. She would 
 have made an effort to rise, but he checked her, and 
 she let her head sink back upon his knee. Still he 
 chafed her temples with his broad, brown hand, and 
 gazed with anxious tenderness into her eyes, that 
 looked at him for a moment, and then wandered and 
 then looked again. 
 
 " What is this ? " she asked, vacantly, at last. 
 
 " I know not," answered the king. " I found you 
 here lying upon the floor. Are you hurt?" he 
 asked tenderly. 
 
 " Hurt ? No yes, I am hurt hurt even to 
 death," she added suddenly. " Oh, Darius, I would 
 I could tell you ! Are you really my friend ? " 
 
 She raised herself without his help and sat up. 
 The hot blood rushed back to her cheeks and her 
 eyes regained their light. 
 
 " Can you doubt that I am your friend, your best 
 friend ? " asked the king. 
 
 Nehushta rose to her feet and paced the little hall 
 
168 ZOROASTER. 
 
 in great emotion. Her hands played nervously with 
 the golden tassels of her mantle, her head-dress had 
 fallen quite back upon her shoulders, and the masses 
 of her hair were let loose. From time to time she 
 glanced at the king, who eyed her anxiously as he 
 stood beside the fountain. 
 
 Presently she stopped before him, and very gravely 
 fixed her eyes on him. 
 
 " I will tell you something," she said, beginning in 
 low tones. " I will tell you this I cannot tell you 
 all. I have been horribly deceived, betrayed, made a 
 sport of. I cannot tell you how you will believe 
 me, will you not ? This man I loved I love him 
 not has cast me off as an old garment, as a thing 
 of no price as a shoe that is worn out and that is 
 not fit for his feet to tread upon. I love him not 
 I hate him oh, I love him not at all ! " 
 
 Darius's face grew dark and his teeth ground hard 
 together, but he stood still, awaiting what she should 
 say. But Nehushta ceased, and suddenly she began 
 again to walk up and down, putting her hand to her 
 temples, as though in pain. Once more she paused, 
 and, in her great emotion laid her two hands upon 
 the shoulder of the king, who trembled at her touch, 
 as though a strong man had struck him. 
 
 " You said you loved me, once," said Nehushta, in 
 short, nervous tones, almost under her breath. " Do 
 you love me still ? " 
 
 " Is it so long since I told you I loved you ? " asked 
 Darius, with a shade of bitterness. " Ah ! do not 
 tempt me do not stir my sickness. Love you? 
 Yea as the earth loves the sun as man never 
 
ZOROASTER. 169 
 
 loved woman. Love you ? Ay ! I love you, and I 
 am the most miserable of men." He shook from head 
 to foot with strong emotion, and the stern lines of 
 his face darkened as he went on speaking. u Yet, 
 though I love you so, I cannot harm him, for my 
 great oath's sake I cannot yet for you, almost I 
 could. Ah Nehushta, Nehushta ! " he cried passion 
 ately, "tempt me not! Ask me not this, for you 
 can almost make a liar of the Great King if you 
 will ! " 
 
 "I tempt you not," answered the princess. "I 
 will not that you harm a hair of his head. He is 
 not worthy that you should lift the least of your 
 
 fingers to slay him. But this I tell you " she 
 
 hesitated. The king in his violent excitement, as 
 though foreseeing what she would say, seized her 
 hands and held them tightly while he gazed into her 
 eyes. 
 
 " Darius," she said, almost hurriedly, " if you love 
 me, and if you desire it, I will be your wife." 
 
 A wild light broke from the king's eyes. He 
 dropped her hands and stepped backwards from her, 
 staring hard. Then, with a quick motion, he turned 
 and threw himself upon the marble seat that ran 
 around the hall, and buried his face and sobbed 
 aloud. 
 
 Nehushta seemed to regain some of her calmness, 
 when once she had said the fatal words. She went 
 and knelt beside him and smoothed his brow and wild, 
 rough hair. The great tears stained his dark cheek. 
 He raised himself and looked at her and put one arm 
 about her neck. 
 
170 ZOROASTER. 
 
 " Nehushta," he whispered, " is it true ? " 
 
 She bowed her head silently. Darius drew her 
 towards him and laid her cheek upon his breast. His 
 face bent down to hers, most tenderly, as though he 
 would have kissed her. But suddenly he drew back, 
 and turned his eyes away. 
 
 "No," he said, as though he had regained the 
 mastery over himself. " It is too much to ask that 
 I might kiss you! It is too much too much that 
 you give me. I am not worthy that you should be 
 my wife. Nay ! " he cried, as she would not let him 
 rise from his seat. " Nay, let me go, it is not right 
 it is not worthy I must not see you any more. Oh, 
 you have tempted me till I am too weak " 
 
 " Darius, you are the noblest of men, the best and 
 bravest." Then with a sudden impulse it seemed to 
 Nehushta that she really loved him. The majestic 
 strength of Zoroaster seemed cold and meaningless 
 beside the fervour of the brave young king, striving 
 so hard to do right under the sorest temptation, striv 
 ing to leave her free, even against her will. For the 
 moment she loved him, as such women do, with a 
 passionate impulse. She put her arms about him and 
 drew him down to her. 
 
 " Darius, it is truth I never loved you, but I love 
 you now, for, of all living men, you have the bravest 
 heart." She pressed a 'kiss hotly upon his forehead 
 and her head sank upon his shoulder. For one 
 moment the king trembled, and then, as though all 
 resistance were gone from him, his arms went round 
 her, locking with hers that held him, and he kissed 
 her passionately. 
 
ZOROASTER. 171 
 
 When Zoroaster awoke from his long sleep it was 
 night. He had dreamed evil dreams, and he woke 
 with a sense of some great disaster impending. He 
 heard unwonted sounds in the hall outside his cham 
 ber, and he sprang to his feet and called one of the 
 soldiers of his guard. 
 
 " What is happening ? " asked Zoroaster quickly. 
 
 "The Great King, who lives for ever, has taken a 
 new wife to-day," answered the soldier, standing 
 erect, but eyeing Zoroaster somewhat curiously. Zo 
 roaster's heart sank within him. 
 
 " What ? Who is she ? " he asked, coming nearer 
 to the man. 
 
 tc The new queen is Nehushta the Hebrew prin 
 cess," answered the spearman. " There is a great 
 banquet, and a feast for the guard, and much food 
 and wine for the slaves " 
 
 " It is well," answered Zoroaster. " Go thou, and 
 feast with the rest." 
 
 The man saluted, and left the room. Zoroaster 
 remained standing alone, his teeth chattering to 
 gether and his strong limbs shaking beneath him. 
 But he abandoned himself to no frenzy of grief, nor 
 weeping; one seeing him would have said he was 
 sick of a fever. His blue eyes stared hard at the 
 lamp-light and his face was white, but he did not so 
 much as utter an exclamation, nor give one groan. 
 He went and sat down upon a chair and folded his 
 hands together, as though waiting for some event. 
 But nothing happened; no one came to disturb him 
 in his solitude, though he could hear the tramping 
 feet and the unceasing talk of the slaves and soldiers 
 
1T2 ZOROASTER. 
 
 without. In the vast palace, where thousands dwelt, 
 where all were feasting or talking of the coming ban 
 quet, Zoroaster was utterly alone. 
 
 At last he rose, slowly, as though with an effort, 
 and paced twice from one end of the room to the other. 
 Upon a low shelf on one side, his garments were 
 folded together, while his burnished cuirass and hel 
 met and other arms which he had not worn upon his 
 rapid journey to Ecbatana, hung upon nails in the 
 wall above. He looked at all these things and turned 
 the clothes over piece by piece, till he had found 
 a great dark mantle and a black hood such as was 
 worn in Media. These he put on, and beneath the 
 cloak he girded a broad, sharp knife about him. 
 Then wrapping himself closely round with the dark- 
 coloured stuff and drawing the hood over his eyes, he 
 lifted the curtain of his door and went out, without 
 casting a look behind him. 
 
 In the crowd of slaves he passed unnoticed ; for 
 the hall was but dimly lighted by a few torches, and 
 every one's attention was upon the doings of the day 
 and the coming feast. 
 
 Zoroaster soon gathered from the words he heard 
 spoken, that the banquet had not yet begun, and he 
 hastened to the columned porch through which the 
 royal party must pass on the way to the great hall 
 which formed the centre of the main building. Files 
 of spearmen, in their bronze breastplates and scarlet 
 and blue mantles, lined the way, which was strewn 
 with yellow sand and myrtle leaves and roses. At 
 every pillar stood a huge bronze candlestick, in which 
 a torch of wax and fir-gum burned, and flared, and 
 
ZOROASTER. 173 
 
 sent up a cloud of half pungent, half aromatic smoke. 
 Throngs of slaves and soldiers pressed close behind 
 the lines of spearmen, elbowing each other with loud 
 jests and surly complaints, to get a better place, a 
 sea of moving, shouting, gesticulating humanity. 
 Zoroaster's great height and broad shoulders enabled 
 him easily to push to the front, and he stood there, 
 disguised and unknown, peering between the heads of 
 two of his own soldiers to obtain the first view of the 
 procession as it came down the broad staircase at the 
 end of the porch. 
 
 Suddenly the blast of deep-toned trumpets was 
 heard in the distance, and silence fell upon the great 
 multitude. With a rhythmic sway of warlike tone 
 the clangour rose and fell, and rose again as the 
 trumpeters came out upon the great staircase and 
 began to descend. After them came other musicians, 
 whose softer instruments began to be heard in har 
 mony with the resounding bass of the horns, and 
 then, behind them, came singers, whose strong, high 
 voices completed the full burst of music that went 
 before the king. 
 
 With measured tread the procession advanced. 
 There were neither priests, nor sacrificers, nor any 
 connected with any kind of temple ; but after the 
 singers came two hundred noble children clad in 
 white, bearing long garlands of flowers that trailed 
 upon the ground, so that many of the blossoms were 
 torn off and strewed the sand. 
 
 But Zoroaster looked neither on the singers, nor 
 on the children. His eyes were fixed intently on the 
 two figures that followed them Darius, the king, 
 
174 ZOROASTER. 
 
 and Nehushta, the bride. They walked side by side, 
 and the procession left an open space, ten paces be 
 fore and ten paces behind the royal pair. Darius 
 wore the tunic of purple and white stripes, the 
 mantle of Tyrian purple on his shoulders and upon 
 his head the royal crown of gold surrounded the linen 
 tiara ; his left hand, bare and brown and soldier-like, 
 rested upon the golden hilt of his sword, and in his 
 right, as he walked, he carried a long golden rod 
 surmounted by a ball, twined with myrtle from end 
 to end. He walked proudly forward, and as he 
 passed, many a spearman thought with pride that 
 the Great King looked as much a soldier as he 
 himself. 
 
 By his left side came Nehushta, clad entirely in 
 cloth of gold, while a mantle of the royal purple 
 hung down behind her. Her white linen tiara was 
 bound round with myrtle and roses, and in her hands 
 she bore a myrtle bough. 
 
 Her face was pale in the torchlight, but she seemed 
 composed in manner, and from time to time she 
 glanced at the king with a look which was certainly 
 not one of aversion. 
 
 Zoroaster felt himself growing as cold as ice as 
 they approached, and his teeth chattered in his head. 
 His brain reeled with the smoke of the torches, the 
 powerful, moving tones of the music and the strange 
 ness of the whole sight. It seemed as though it 
 could not be real. He fixed his eyes upon Nehushta, 
 but his face was shaded all around by his dark hood. 
 Nevertheless, so intently did he gaze upon her that, 
 as she came near, she felt his look, as it were, and, 
 
ZOROASTER. 175 
 
 searching in the crowd behind the soldiers, met his 
 eyes. She must have known it was he, even under 
 the disguise that hid his features, for, though she 
 walked calmly on, the angry blood rushed to her face 
 and brow, overspreading her features with a sudden, 
 dark flush. 
 
 Just as she came up to where Zoroaster stood, he 
 thrust his covered head far out between the soldiers. 
 His eyes gleamed like coals of blue fire and his voice 
 came low, with a cold, clear ring, like the blade of a 
 good sword striking upon a piece of iron. 
 
 " Faithless ! " 
 
 That was all he said, but all around heard the cut 
 ting tone, that neither the voices of the singers, nor 
 the clangour of the trumpets could drown. 
 
 Nehushta drew herself up and paused for one mo 
 ment, and turned upon the dark-robed figure a look of 
 such unutterable loathing and scorn as one would not 
 have deemed could be concentrated in a human face. 
 Then she passed on. 
 
 The two spearmen turned quickly upon the man 
 between them, who had uttered the insult against the 
 new queen, and laid hold of him roughly by the 
 shoulders. A moment more and his life would have 
 been ended by their swords. But his strong, white 
 hands stole out like lightning, and seized each soldier 
 by the wrist, and twisted their arms so suddenly and 
 with such furious strength, that they cried aloud 
 with pain and fell headlong at his feet. The people 
 parted for a space in awe and wonder, and Zoroaster 
 turned, with his dark mantle close drawn around 
 him, and strode out through the gaping crowd. 
 
176 ZOROASTER. 
 
 u It is a devil of the mountains ! " cried one. 
 
 " It is Ahriman himself ! " said another. 
 
 " It is the soul of the priest of Bel whom the king 
 slew at Babylon ! " 
 
 " It is the Evil Spirit of Cambyses ! " 
 
 " Nay," quoth one of the spearmen, rubbing his 
 injured hand, " it was Zoroaster, the captain. I saw 
 his face beneath that hood he wore." 
 
 " It may be," answered his fellow. " They say he 
 can break a bar of iron, as thick as a man's three 
 fingers, with his hand. But I believe it was a devil 
 of the mountains." 
 
 But the procession marched on, and long before the 
 crowd had recovered enough from its astonishment to 
 give utterance to these surmises, Zoroaster had passed 
 out of the porch and back through the deserted courts, 
 and down the wide staircase to the palace gate, and 
 out into tho quiet, starlit night, alone and on foot. 
 
 He would have no compromise with his grief ; he 
 would be alone with it. He needed not mortal sym 
 pathy and he would not have the pity of man. The 
 blow had struck home with deadly certainty and the 
 wound was such as man cannot heal, neither woman. 
 The fabric of happiness, which in a year he had built 
 himself, was shattered to its foundation, and the fall 
 of it was fearful. The ruin of it reached over the 
 whole dominion of his soul and rent all the palace 
 of his body. The temple that had stood so fair, 
 whither his heart had gone up to worship his beloved 
 one, was destroyed and utterly beaten to pieces ; and 
 the ruin of it was as a heap of dead bones, so loath 
 some in decay, that the eyes of his spirit turned in 
 
ZOBOASTEB. 177 
 
 horror and disgust from the inward contemplation of 
 so miserable a sight. 
 
 Alone and on foot, he went upon his dreary way, 
 dry-eyed and calm. There was nothing left of all his 
 past life that he cared for. His armour hung in his 
 chamber in the palace and with it he left the Zoroaster 
 he had known the strong, the young, the beautiful; 
 the warrior, the lover, the singer of sweet songs, 
 the smiter of swift blows, the peerless horseman, the 
 matchless man. He who went out alone into the 
 great night, was a moving sorrow, a horror of grief 
 made visible as a walking shadow among things real, 
 a man familiar already with death as with a friend, 
 and with the angel of death as with a lover. 
 
 Alone it was a beginning of satisfaction to be 
 away from all the crowd of known and unknown faces 
 familiar to his life but the end and attainment of 
 satisfaction could only come when he should be away 
 from himself, from the heavy body that wearied him, 
 and from the heavier soul that was crushed with itself 
 as with a burden. For sorrow was his companion 
 from that day forth, and grief undying was his coun 
 sellor. 
 
 Ah God ! She was so beautiful and her love was 
 so sweet and strong ! Her face had been as the face 
 of an angel, and her virgin-heart as the innermost 
 leaves of the rose that are folded together in the bud 
 before the rising of the sun. Her kiss was as the 
 breath of spring that gladdens the earth into new life, 
 her eyes as crystal wells, from the depths whereof 
 truth rose blushing to the golden light of day. Her 
 lips were so sweet that a man wondered how they 
 
178 ZOROASTER, 
 
 could ever part, till, when they parted, her gentle 
 breath bore forth the music of her words, that was 
 sweeter than all created sounds. She was of all 
 earthly women the most beautiful the very most 
 lovely thing that God had made; and of all mortal 
 women that have loved, her love had been the purest, 
 the gentlest, the truest. There was never woman 
 like to her, nor would be again. 
 
 And yet scarce ten days had changed her, had 
 so altered and disturbed the pure elements of her 
 wondrous nature that she had lied to herself and lied 
 to her lover the very lie of lies for what ? To wear 
 a piece of purple of a richer dye than other women 
 wore, to bind her hair with a bit of gold, to be called 
 a queen - a queen forsooth ! when she had been 
 from her birth up the sovereign queen of all created 
 women ! 
 
 The very lie of lies ! Was there ever" such a 
 monstrous lie since the world first learned the un 
 truths of the serpent's wisdom ? Had she not sworn 
 and promised, by the holiness of her God, to love 
 Zoroaster for ever? For ever. O word, that had 
 meant heaven, and now meant hell ! that had meant 
 joy without any end and peace and all love ! that 
 meant now only pain eternal, and sorrow, and gnaw 
 ing torment of a wound that would never heal ! O 
 Death, that yesterday would have seemed Life for 
 her ! O Life, that to-day, by her, was made the Death 
 of deaths! 
 
 Emptiness of emptiness the whole world one 
 hollow cavern of vanity lifeless and lightless, where 
 the ghosts of the sorrows of men moan dismally, and 
 
ZOROASTER. 179 
 
 the shadows of men's griefs scream out their wild 
 agony upon the ghastly darkness ! Night, through 
 which no dawn shall ever gleam, fleet and fair, to 
 touch with rosy fingers the eyes of a dead world and 
 give them sight! Winter, of unearthly cold, that 
 through all the revolving ages of untiring time, shall 
 never see the face of another spring, nor feel its icy 
 veins thawing with the pulses of a forgotten life, 
 quickened from within with the thrilling hope of a 
 new and glorious birth ! 
 
 Far out upon the southern plain Zoroaster lay 
 upon the dew-wet ground and gazed up into the 
 measureless depths of heaven, where the stars shone 
 out like myriads of jewels set in the dark mantle of 
 night ! 
 
 Gradually, as he lay, the tempest of his heart sub 
 sided, and the calm of the vast solitude descended 
 upon him, even as the dew had descended upon the 
 earth. His temples ceased to throb with the wild 
 pulse that sent lightnings through his brain at every 
 beat, and from the intensity of his sorrow, his soul 
 seemed to float upwards to those cool depths of the 
 outer firmament where no sorrow is. His eyes grew 
 glassy and fixed, and his body rigid in the night- 
 dews ; and his spirit, soaring beyond the power of 
 earthly forces to weigh down its flight, rose to that 
 lofty sphere where the morning and the evening are 
 but one eternal day, where the mighty unison of the 
 heavenly chorus sends up its grand plain-chant to 
 God Most High. 
 
 Vol. 6 s 
 
180 ZOROASTER. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 FAR in the wild mountains of the south, where a 
 primeval race of shepherds pastures its flocks of 
 shaggy goats upon the scanty vegetation of rocky 
 slopes, there is a deep gorge whither men seldom 
 penetrate, and where the rays of the sun fall but for 
 a short hour at noonday. A man may walk, or rather 
 climb, along the side of the little stream that rushes 
 impetuously down among the black rocks, for a full 
 hour and a half before he reaches the end of the nar 
 row valley. Then he will come upon a sunken place, 
 like a great natural amphitheatre, the steep walls of 
 boulders rising on all sides to a lofty circle of dark 
 crags. In the midst of this open space a spring rises 
 suddenly from beneath a mass of black stone, with a 
 rushing, gurgling sound, and makes a broad pool, 
 whence the waters flow down in a little torrent 
 through the gorge till they emerge far below into 
 the fertile plain and empty themselves into the 
 Araxes, which flows by the towers and palaces of 
 lordly Stakhar, more than two days' journey from the 
 hidden circle in the mountains. 
 
 It would have been a hard thing to recognise 
 Zoroaster in the man who sat day after day beside 
 the spring, absorbed in profound meditation. His tall 
 figure was wasted almost to emaciation by fasting and 
 exposure ; his hair and beard had turned snow-white, 
 
ZOROASTER. 181 
 
 and hung down in abundant masses to his waist, and 
 his fair young face was pale and transparent. But 
 in his deep blue eyes there was a light different from 
 the light of other days the strange calm fire of a 
 sight that looks on wondrous things, and sees what 
 the eyes of men may not see, and live. 
 
 Nearly three years had passed since he went forth 
 from the palace of Shushan, to wander southwards in 
 search of a resting-place, and he was but three-and- 
 thirty years of age. But between him and the past 
 there was a great gulf the interval between the 
 man and the prophet, between the cares of mortality 
 and the divine calm of the higher life. 
 
 From time to time indeed, he ascended the steep 
 path he had made among the stones and rocks, to the 
 summit of the mountain ; and there he met one of 
 the shepherds of the hills, who brought him once 
 every month a bag of parched grain and a few small, 
 hard cheeses of goats' milk ; and in return for these 
 scanty provisions, he gave the man each time a link 
 from the golden chain he had worn and which was 
 still about his neck when he left the palace. Three- 
 and-thirty links were gone since he had come there, 
 and the chain was shorter by more than half its length. 
 It would last until the thousand days were accom 
 plished, and there would still be much left. Aura- 
 mazda, the All-Wise, would provide. 
 
 Zoroaster sat by the spring and watched the crystal 
 waters sparkle in the brief hour of sunshine at noon 
 day, and turn dark and deep again when the light 
 was gone. He moved not through the long hours of 
 day, sitting as he had sat in that place now for three 
 
182 ZOROASTER. 
 
 years neither scorched by the short hours of sunlight, 
 nor chilled by winter's frost and snow. The wild 
 long-haired sheep of the mountain came down to 
 drink at noon, and timidly gazed with their stupid 
 eyes at the immovable figure ; and at evening the 
 long-bodied, fierce-eyed wolves would steal stealthily 
 among the rocks and come and snuff the ground 
 about his feet, presently raising their pointed heads 
 with a long howl of fear, and galloping away through 
 the dusk in terror, as though at something unearthly. 
 
 And when at last the night was come, Zoroaster 
 arose and went to the spot where the rocks, overhang 
 ing together, left a space through which one might 
 enter ; and the white-haired man gave one long look 
 at the stars overhead, and disappeared within. 
 
 There was a vast cave, the roof reaching high up 
 in a great vault; the sides black and polished, as 
 though smoothed by the hands of cunning workmen ; 
 the floor a bed of soft, black sand, dry and even as 
 the untrodden desert. In the midst, a boulder of 
 black rock lay like a huge ball, and upon its summit 
 burned a fire that was never quenched, and that 
 needed no replenishing with fuel. The tall pointed 
 flame shed a strangely white light around, that 
 flashed and sparkled upon the smooth black walls 
 of the cavern, as though they were mirrors. The 
 flame also was immovable ; it neither flickered, nor 
 rose, nor fell; but stood as it were a spear-head of 
 incandescent gold upon the centre of the dark altar. 
 There was no smoke from that strange fire, nor any 
 heat near it, as from other fires. 
 
 Then Zoroaster bent and put forth his forefinger 
 
ZOROASTER. 183 
 
 and traced a figure upon the sand, which was like a 
 circle, save that it was cut from north-west to south 
 east by two straight lines, and from north-east to 
 south-west by two straight lines ; and at each of the 
 four small arcs, where the straight lines cut the cir 
 cumference of the great circle, a part of a smaller 
 circle outside the great one united the points over 
 each other. And upon the east side, toward the 
 altar, the great circle was not joined, but open for a 
 short distance. 1 
 
 When the figure was traced, Zoroaster came out 
 from it and touched the black rock whereon the fire 
 burned; and then he turned back and entered the 
 circle, and with his fingers joined it where it was 
 open on the east side through which he had entered. 
 And immediately, as the circle was completed, there 
 sprung up over the whole line he had traced a soft 
 light; like that of the fire, but less strong. Then 
 Zoroaster lay v down upon his back, with his feet to 
 the west and his head toward the altar, and he 
 folded his hands upon his breast and closed his eyes. 
 As he lay, his body became rigid and his face as the 
 face of the dead; and his spirit was loosed in the 
 trance and freed from the bonds of earth, while his 
 limbs rested. 
 
 Lying there, separated from the world, cut off 
 within the circle of a symbolised death by the light 
 of the universal agent, 2 Zoroaster dreamed dreams 
 and saw visions. 
 
 1 The Mazdayashnian Dakhma, or place of death. This figure 
 represents the ground-plan of the modern Parsi Tower of Silence. 
 2 The term " universal agent" has been used in the mysticism of 
 
184 ZOROASTER. 
 
 His mind was first opened to the understanding of 
 those broader conceptions of space and time of which 
 he had read in the books of Daniel, his master. He 
 had understood the principles then, but he had not 
 realised their truth. He was too intimately con 
 nected with the life around him, to be able to see in 
 the clearer light which penetrates with universal truth 
 all the base forms of perishable matter. 
 
 Daniel had taught him the first great principles. 
 All men, in their ignorance, speak of the infinities of 
 space and time as being those ideas which man can 
 not of himself grasp or understand. Man, they say, 
 is limited in capacity ; he can, therefore, not compre 
 hend the infinite. A greater fault than this could not 
 be committed by a thinking being. For infinity 
 being unending, it is incapable of being limited ; it 
 rejects definition, which belongs, by its nature, to finite 
 things. For definition means the placing of bounds, 
 and that which is in-finite can have no bounds. The 
 man, therefore, who seeks to bound what has no 
 bounds, endeavours to define what is, by its nature, 
 undefinable ; and finding that the one poor means 
 which he has of conveying fallacious impressions of 
 illusory things to hie mind through his deadened 
 senses, is utterly insufficient to give him an idea of 
 what alone is real, he takes refuge in his crass igno 
 rance and coarse grossness of language, and asserts 
 boldly that the human mind is too limited in its nature 
 to conceive of infinite space, or of infinite time. 
 
 ages, to designate that subtle and all- pervading fluid, of which the 
 phenomena of light, heat, electricity and vitality are considered to 
 be but the grosser and more palpable manifestations. 
 
EOROASTEB. 185 
 
 Not only is the untrammelled mind of man capable 
 of these bolder conceptions, but even the wretched 
 fool who sees in the material world the whole of what 
 man can know, could never get so far as to think even 
 of the delusive objects on which he pins his foolish 
 faith, unless the very mind which he insults and mis 
 understands, had by its nature that infinite capacity 
 of comprehension which, he says, exists not. For 
 otherwise, if the mind be limited, there must be a 
 definite limit to its comprehensive faculty, and it is 
 easy to conceive that such a limit would soon become 
 apparent to every student ; as apparent as it is that a 
 being, confined within three dimensions of space, can 
 not, without altering his nature, escape from these 
 three dimensions, nor from the laws which govern 
 matter having length, breadth and thickness alone, 
 without the external fourth dimension, with its inter- 
 changeability of exterior and interior angles. 
 
 The very thought that infinite space cannot be un 
 derstood, is itself a proof that the mind uncon 
 sciously realises the precise nature of such infinity, in 
 attributing to it at once the all-comprehensiveness 
 from which there is no escape, in which all dimensions 
 exist, and by virtue of which all other conceptions 
 become possible; since this infinite space contains in 
 itself all dimensions of existence transitory, real 
 and potential; and if the capacity of the mind is 
 co-extensive with the capacity of infinite space, 
 since it feels itself undoubtedly capable of grasping 
 any limited idea contained in any portion of the illim 
 itable whole, it follows that the mind is of itself as 
 infinite as the space in which all created things have 
 
186 ZOROASTER. 
 
 their transitory form of being, and in which all 
 uncreated truths exist eternally. The mind is aware 
 of infinity by that true sort of knowledge which is an 
 intimate conviction not dependent upon the operation 
 of the senses. 
 
 Gradually, too, as Zoroaster fixed his intuition upon 
 the first main principle of all possible knowledge, he 
 became aware of the chief cause of the universal 
 principal of vivifying essence, which pervades all 
 things, and in which arises motion as the original 
 generator of transitory being. The great law of divi 
 sion became clear to him the separation for a time 
 of the universal agent into two parts, by the separa 
 tion and reuniting of which comes light and heat and 
 the hidden force of life, and the prime rules of attrac 
 tive action; all things that are accounted material. 
 He saw the division of darkness and light, and how 
 all things that are in the darkness are reflected in the 
 light ; and how the light which we call light is in 
 reality darkness made visible, whereas the true light 
 is not visible to the eyes that are darkened by the 
 gross veil of transitory being. And as from the night 
 of earth, his eyes were gradually opened to the astral 
 day, he knew that the forms that move and have 
 being in the night are perishable and utterly unreal ; 
 whereas the purer being which is reflected in the real 
 light is true and endures for ever. 
 
 Then, by his knowledge and power, and by the 
 light that was in him, he divided the portion of the 
 universal agent that was in the cave where he dwelt 
 into two portions, and caused them to reunite in the 
 midst upon the stone that was there ; and the flame 
 
ZOBOASTER. 187 
 
 burned silently and without heat upon his altar, day 
 and night, without intermission ; and by the division 
 of the power within him, he could divide the power 
 also that was latent in other transitory beings, accord 
 ing to those laws which, being eternal, are manifested 
 in things not eternal, but perishable. 
 
 And further, he meditated upon the seven parts of 
 man, and upon their separation, and upon the differ 
 ence of their nature. 
 
 For the first element of man is perishable matter. 
 
 And the second element of man is the portion of 
 the universal agent which gives him life. 
 
 And the third element of man is the reflection of 
 his perishable substance in the astral light, coincident 
 with him, but not visible to his earthly eye. 
 
 The fourth element of man is made up of all the 
 desires he feels by his material senses. This part is 
 not real being, nor transitory being, but a result. 
 
 The fifth element of man is that which says : " I 
 am," whereby a man knows himself from other men ; 
 and with it there is an intelligence of lower things, 
 but no intelligence of things higher. 
 
 The sixth element is the pure understanding, eter 
 nal and co-extensive with all infinity of time and 
 space real, imperishable, invisible to the eye of man. 
 
 The seventh element is the soul from God. 
 
 Upon these things Zoroaster meditated long, and 
 as his perishable body became weakened and emaci 
 ated with fasting and contemplation, he was aware 
 that, at times, the universal agent ceased to be de 
 composed and recomposed in the nerves of his mate 
 rial part, so that his body became as though dead, 
 
188 ZOROASTER. 
 
 and with it the fourth element which represents the 
 sense of mortal desires ; and he himself, the three 
 highest elements of him, his individuality, his in 
 telligence and his soul, became separated for a 
 time from all that weighed them down ; and his 
 mind's eyes were opened, and he saw clearly in the 
 astral light, with an intuitive knowledge of true 
 things, and false. 
 
 And so, night after night, he lay upon the floor of 
 his cavern, rigid and immovable ; his body protected 
 from all outer harmful influences by the circle of 
 light he had acquired the power of producing. For 
 though there was no heat in the flame, no mortal 
 breathing animal could so much as touch it with the 
 smallest part of his body without being instantly de 
 stroyed as by lightning. And so he was protected 
 from all harm in his trances ; and he left his body at 
 will and returned to it, and it breathed again, and 
 was alive. 
 
 So he saw into the past and into the present and 
 into the future, and his soul was purified beyond the 
 purity of man, and soared upwards, and dreamed of 
 the eternal good and of the endless truth; and at last 
 it seemed to him that he should leave his body in its 
 trance, and never return to it, nor let it breathe 
 again. For since it was possible thus to cast off mor 
 tality and put on immortality, it seemed to him that 
 it was but a weariness to take up the flesh and wear 
 it, when it was so easy to lay it down. Almost he 
 had determined that he would then let death come, 
 as it were unawares, upon his perishable substance, 
 and remain for ever in the new life he had found. 
 
ZOROASTER. 189 
 
 But as his spirit thought in this wise, he heard a 
 voice speaking to him, and he listened. 
 
 " One moment is as another, and there is no differ 
 ence between one time and another time. 
 
 " One moment in eternity is of as great value as 
 another moment, for eternity changes not, neither is 
 one part of it better than another part. 
 
 "Though man be immortal as to his soul, he is 
 mortal as to his body, and the time which his soul 
 shall spend in his body is of as great worth to him as 
 the time which he shall spend without it. 
 
 " Think not that by wilfully abandoning the body, 
 even though you have the power and the knowledge 
 to do so, you will escape from the state in which it 
 has pleased God to put you. 
 
 "Rather shall your pain and the time of your 
 suffering be increased, because you have not done 
 with the body that which the body shall do. 
 
 " The life of the soul while it is in the body, has 
 as much value as when it has left it. You shall not 
 shorten the time of dwelling in the flesh. 
 
 " Though you know all things, you know not God. 
 For though you know your body which is in the 
 world, and the world which is in time, and time which 
 is in space, yet your knowledge goeth no farther, for 
 space and all that therein is, is in God. 1 
 
 "You have learned earthly things and heavenly 
 things. Learn then that you shall not escape the 
 laws of earth while you are on earth, nor the laws of 
 heaven when you are in heaven. Lift up your heart 
 to God, but do in the body those things which are of 
 
 the body. 
 
 1 Hermes Trismegistus, Pwmandres xi. 2. 
 
190 ZOKOASTER. 
 
 " There are other men put into the world besides 
 you. If you leave the world, what does your knowl 
 edge profit other men ? And yet it is to profit other 
 men that God has put you into the world. 
 
 " And not you only, but every man. The labour of 
 man is to man, and the labour of angels to angels. 
 But the time of man is as valuable in the sight of 
 God, as the time of angels. 
 
 "All things that are not accomplished in their 
 time shall be left unaccomplished for ever and ever. 
 If while you are in the flesh, you accomplish not the 
 things of the flesh after the manner of your humanity, 
 you shall enter into the life of the spirit as one blind, 
 or maimed ; for your part is not fulfilled. 
 
 " Wisdom is this. A man shall not care for the 
 things of the world for himself, and his soul shall be 
 lifted and raised above all that is mean and perishable ; 
 but he shall perform his part without murmuring. 
 He shall not forget the perishable things, though he 
 soar to the imperishable. 
 
 " For man is to man as one portion of eternity to 
 another ; and as eternity would be imperfect if one 
 moment could be removed, so also the earth would be 
 imperfect if one man should be taken from it before 
 his appointed time. 
 
 " If a man therefore take himself out of the world, 
 he causes imperfection, and sins against perfection, 
 which is the law of God. 
 
 " Though the world be in darkness, the darkness is 
 necessary to the light. Though the world perish, 
 and heaven perish not for ever, yet is the perishable 
 necessary to the eternal. 
 
ZOROASTER. 191 
 
 "For the transitory and the unchangeable exist 
 alike in eternity and are portions of it. And one 
 moment is as another, and there is no difference be 
 tween one time and another time. 
 
 " Go, therefore, and take up your body, and do 
 with it the deeds of the body among men ; for you 
 have deeds to do, and unless they are done in their 
 time, which is now, they will be unfulfilled for ever, 
 and you will become an imperfect spirit. 
 
 " The imperfect spirit shall be finally destroyed, for 
 nothing that is imperfect shall endure. To be perfect 
 all things must be fulfilled, all deeds done, in the 
 season while the spirit is in darkness with the body. 
 The deeds perish, and the body which doeth them, 
 but the soul of the perfect man is eternal, and the re 
 flection of what he has done, abides for ever in the light. 
 
 " Hasten, for your time is short. You have learned 
 all things that are lawful to be learnt, and your deeds 
 shall be sooner accomplished. 
 
 " Hasten, for one moment is as another, and there 
 is no difference between the value of one time and of 
 another time. 
 
 "The moment which passes returns not, and the 
 thing which a man should do in one time cannot be 
 done in another time." 
 
 The voice ceased, and the spirit of Zoroaster re 
 turned to his body in the cave, and his eyes opened. 
 Then he rose, and standing within the circle, cast 
 sand upon the portion towards the east ; and so soon 
 as the circle was broken, it was extinguished and 
 there remained nothing but the marks Zoroaster had 
 traced with his fingers upon the black sand. 
 
192 ZOROASTER. 
 
 He drew his tattered mantle around him, and went 
 to the entrance of the cave, and passed out. And it 
 was night. 
 
 Overhead, the full moon cast her broad rays verti 
 cally into the little valley, and the smooth black 
 stones gleamed darkly. The reflection caught the 
 surface of the little pool by the spring, and it was 
 turned to a silver shield of light. 
 
 Zoroaster came forward and stood beside the foun 
 tain, and the glory of the moon fell upon his white 
 locks and beard and on the long white hand he laid 
 upon the rock. 
 
 His acute senses, sharpened beyond those of men 
 by long solitude and fasting, distinguished the step 
 of a man far up the height on the distant crags, and 
 his keen sight soon detected a figure descending 
 cautiously, but surely, towards the deep abyss where 
 Zoroaster stood. More and more clearly he saw him, 
 till the man was near, and stood upon an overhang 
 ing boulder within speaking distance. He was the 
 shepherd who, from time to time, brought food to 
 the solitary mystic ; and who alone, of all the goat 
 herds in those hills, would have dared to invade the 
 sacred precincts of Zoroaster's retreat. He was a 
 brave fellow, but the sight of the lonely man by the 
 fountain awed him; it seemed as though his white 
 hair emitted a light of its own under the rays of the 
 moon, and he paused in fear lest the unearthly ascetic 
 should do him some mortal hurt. 
 
 "Wilt thou harm me if I descend?" he called out 
 timidly. 
 
 " I harm no man," answered Zoroaster. " Come in 
 peace o" 
 
ZOROASTER. 193 
 
 The active shepherd swung himself from the boul 
 der, and in a few moments he stood among the stones 
 at the bottom, a few paces from the man he sought. 
 He was a dark fellow, clad in goat-skins, with pieces 
 of leather bound around his short, stout legs. His 
 voice was hoarse, perhaps with some still uncon- 
 quered fear, and his staff rattled as he steadied him 
 self among the stones. 
 
 "Art not thou he who is called Zoroaster?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " I am he," answered the mystic. " What wouldest 
 thou?" 
 
 "Thou knowest that the Great King with his 
 queens and his court are at the palace of Stakhar," 
 replied the man. " I go thither from time to time to 
 sell cheeses to the slaves. The Great King has made 
 a proclamation that whosoever shall bring before him 
 Zoroaster shall receive a talent of gold and a robe of 
 purple. I am a poor shepherd fearest thou to go 
 to the palace ? " 
 
 " I fear nothing. I am past fear these three years." 
 
 "Will the Great King harm thee, thinkest thou? 
 Thou hast paid me well for my pains since I first 
 saw thee, and I would not have thee hurt." 
 
 " No man can harm me. My time is not yet come." 
 
 " Wilt thou go with me ? " cried the shepherd, in 
 sudden delight. " And shall I have the gold and the 
 robe?" 
 
 " I will go with thee. Thou shalt have all thou 
 wouldest," answered Zoroaster. "Art thou ready? 
 I have no goods to burden me." 
 
 " But thou art old," objected the shepherd, coming 
 
194 ZOROASTER. 
 
 nearer. " Canst thou go so far on foot ? I have a 
 beast; I will return with him in the morning, and 
 meet thee upon the height. I came hither in haste, 
 being but just returned from Stakhar with the news." 
 
 " I am younger than thou, though my hair is white. 
 I will go with thee. Lead the way." 
 
 He stooped and drank of the fountain in the moon 
 light, from the hollow of his hand. Then he turned, 
 and began to ascend the steep side of the valley. 
 The shepherd led the way in silence, overcome be 
 tween his awe of the man and his delight at his own 
 good fortune. 
 
ZOROASTER. 195 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 IT was now three years since Nehushta had been 
 married to Darius, and the king loved her well. But 
 often, in that time, he had been away from her, called 
 to different parts of the kingdom by the sudden out 
 breaks of revolution which filled the early years of 
 his reign. Each time he had come back in triumph, 
 and each time he had given her some rich gift. He 
 found indeed that he had no easy task to perform 
 in keeping the peace between his two queens ; for 
 Atossa seemed to delight in annoying Nehushta and 
 in making her feel that she was but the second in 
 the king's favour, whatever distinctions might be 
 offered her. But Darius was just and was careful 
 that Atossa should receive her due, neither more nor 
 less. 
 
 Nehushta was glad when Zoroaster was gone. She 
 had suffered terribly in that moment when he had 
 spoken to her out of the crowd, and the winged word 
 had made a wound that rankled still. In those three 
 years that passed, Ato^a never undeceived her con 
 cerning the sight she had seen, and she still believed 
 that Zoroaster had basely betrayed her. It was im 
 possible, in her view, that it could be otherwise. 
 Had she not seen him herself? Could any man do 
 such an action who was not utterly base and heart 
 less ? She had, of course, never spoken to Darius of 
 
196 ZOROASTER. 
 
 the scene upon the terrace. She did not desire the 
 destruction of Atossa, nor of her faithless lover. 
 Amid all the tender kindness the king lavished upon 
 her, the memory of her first love endured still, and 
 she could not have suffered the pain of going over 
 the whole story again. He was gone, perhaps dead, 
 and she would never see him again. He would not 
 dare to set foot in the court. She remembered the 
 king's furious anger against him, when he suspected 
 that the hooded man in the procession was Zoro 
 aster. But Darius had afterwards said, in his usual 
 careless way, that he himself would have done as 
 much, and that for his oath's sake, he would never 
 harm the young Persian. By the grace of Aura- 
 mazda he swore, he was the king of kings and did 
 not make war upon disappointed lovers ! 
 
 Meanwhile, Darius had built himself a magnificent 
 palace, below the fortress of Stakhar, in the valley of 
 the Araxes, and there he spent the winter and the 
 spring, when the manifold cares of the state would 
 permit him. He had been almost unceasingly at war 
 with the numerous pretenders who set themselves up 
 for petty kings in the provinces. With unheard-of 
 rapidity, he moved from one quarter of his dominions 
 to another, from east to west, from north to south ; 
 but each time that he returned, he found some little 
 disturbance going on at the court, and he bent his 
 brows and declared that a parcel of women were 
 harder to govern than all Media, Persia, and Babylon 
 together. 
 
 Atossa wearied him with her suggestions. 
 
 " When the king is gone upon an expedition," she 
 
ZOBOASTEB. 197 
 
 said, " there is no head in the palace. Otanes is a 
 weak man. The king will not give me the control 
 of the household, neither will he give it to any one 
 else." 
 
 " There is no one whom I can trust," answered 
 Darius. " Can you not dwell together in peace for a 
 month?" 
 
 " No," answered Atossa, with her winning smile, " it 
 is impossible ; the king's wives will never agree among 
 themselves. Let the king choose some one and make 
 a head over the palace." 
 
 " Whom shall I choose ? " asked Darius, moodily. 
 
 " The king had a faithful servant once," suggested 
 Atossa. 
 
 " Have I none now? " 
 
 " Yea, but none so faithful as this man of whom I 
 speak, nor so ready to do the king's bidding. He de 
 parted from Shushan when the king took Nehushta 
 to wife " 
 
 " Mean you Zoroaster ? " asked Darius, bending his 
 brows, and eyeing Atossa somewhat fiercely. But she 
 met his glance with indifference. 
 
 " The same," she answered. " Why not send for 
 him and make him governor of the palace ? He was 
 indeed a faithful servant and a willing one." 
 
 Still the king gazed hard at her face, as though 
 trying to fathom the reason of her request, or at least 
 to detect some scornful look upon her face to agree 
 with her sneering words. But he was no match for 
 the unparalleled astuteness of Atossa, though he had a 
 vague suspicion that she wished to annoy him by calling 
 up a memory which she knew could not be pleasant, 
 and he retorted in his own fashion. 
 
198 ZOROASTER. 
 
 " If Zoroaster be yet alive I will have him brougTit, 
 and I will make him governor of the palace. He was 
 indeed a faithful servant he shall rule you all and 
 there shall be no more discord among you." 
 
 And forthwith the king issued a proclamation that 
 whosoever should bring Zoroaster before him should 
 receive a talent of gold and a robe of purple as a 
 reward. 
 
 But when Nehushta heard of it she was greatly 
 troubled ; for Atossa began to tell her that Zoroaster 
 was to return and to be made governor of the palace ; 
 but Nehushta rose and left her forthwith, with such a 
 look of dire hatred and scorn that even the cold queen 
 thought she had, perhaps, gone too far. 
 
 There were other reasons why the king desired 
 Zoroaster's return. He had often wondered secretly 
 how the man could so have injured Nehushta as to 
 turn her love into hate in a few moments ; but he had 
 never questioned her. It was a subject neither of 
 them could have approached, and Darius was far too 
 happy in his marriage to risk endangering that hap 
 piness by any untoward discovery. Nehushta's grief 
 and anger had been so genuine when she told him of 
 Zoroaster's treachery that it had never occurred to 
 him that he might be injuring the latter in marrying 
 the princess, though his generous heart had told him 
 more than once, that Nehushta had married him half 
 from gratitude for his kindness, and half out of 
 anger with her false lover; but, capricious as she 
 was in all other things, towards the king she was 
 always the same, gentle and affectionate, though 
 there was nothing passionate in her love. And now, 
 
ZOROASTER. 199 
 
 the idea of seeing the man who had betrayed her 
 installed in an official position in the palace, was 
 terrible to her pride. She could not sleep for think 
 ing how she should meet him, and what she should 
 do. She grew pale and hollow-eyed with the antici 
 pation of evil and all her peace went from her. 
 Deep down in her heart there was yet a clinging 
 affection for the old love, which she smothered and 
 choked down bravely ; but it was there nevertheless, 
 a sleeping giant, ready to rise and overthrow her 
 whole nature in a moment, if only she could wash 
 away the stain of faithlessness which sullied his fair 
 memory, and lift the load of dishonour which had 
 crushed him from the sovereign place he had held in 
 the dominion of her soul. 
 
 Darius was himself curious to ascertain the truth 
 about Zoroaster's conduct. But another and a weigh 
 tier reason existed for which he wished him to return. 
 The king was disturbed about a matter of vital im 
 portance to his kingdom, and he knew that, among 
 all his subjects, there was not one more able to give 
 him assistance and advice than Zoroaster, the pupil 
 of the dead prophet Daniel. 
 
 The religion of the kingdom was of a most uncer 
 tain kind. So many changes had passed over the 
 various provinces which made up the great empire 
 that, for generations, there had been almost a new 
 religion for every monarch. Cyrus, inclining to the 
 idolatry of the Phoenicians, had worshipped the sun 
 and moon, and had built temples and done sacrifice 
 to them and to a multitude of deities. Cambyses had 
 converted the temples of his father into places of fire- 
 
200 ZOBOASTBE. 
 
 worship, and had burnt thousands of human victims ; 
 rejoicing in the splendour of his ceremonies and in 
 the fierce love of blood that grew upon him as his 
 Vices obtained the mastery over his better sense. But 
 under both kings the old Aryan worship of the 
 Magians had existed among the people, and the 
 Magians themselves had asserted, whenever they 
 dared, their right to be considered the priesfty caste, 
 the children of the Brahmins of the Aryan house. 
 Gomata the false Smerdis was a Brahmin, at 
 least in name, and probably in descent ; and during 
 his brief reign the only decrees he issued fi'om his 
 retirement in the palace of Shushan, were for the 
 destruction of the existing temples and the establish 
 ment of the Magian worship throughout the kingdom* 
 When Darius had slain Smerdis, he naturally pro 
 ceeded to the destruction of the Magi, and the streets 
 of Shushan ran with their blood for many days. He 
 then restored the temples and the worship of Aura- 
 mazda, as well as he was able ; but it soon became 
 evident that the religion was in a disorganised state 
 and that it would be no easy matter to enforce a pure 
 monotheism upon a nation of men who, in their hearts, 
 were Magians, nature- worshippers ; and who, through 
 successive reigns, had been driven by force to the 
 adoration of * strange idols. It followed that the 
 people resisted the change and revolted whenever 
 they could find a leader. The numerous revolutions, 
 which cost Darius no less than nineteen battles, were, 
 almost without exception, brought about in the at 
 tempt to restore the Magian worship in various prov 
 inces of the kingdom, and it may well be doubted 
 
ZOROASTER. 201 
 
 whether, at any time in the world's history, an equal 
 amount of blood was ever shed in so short a period in 
 the defence of religious convictions. 
 
 Darius himself was a man who had the strongest 
 belief in the power of Auramazda, the All- Wise God, 
 and who did not hesitate to attribute all the evil in 
 the world to Ahriman, the devil. He had a bitter 
 contempt for all idolatry, nature-worship and super 
 stition generally, and he adhered in his daily life to 
 the simple practices of the ancient Mazdayashnians. 
 But he was totally unfitted to be the head of a 
 religious movement ; and, although he had collected 
 such of the priesthood as seemed most worthy, and had 
 built them temples and given them privileges of all 
 kinds, he was far from satisfied with their mode of 
 worship. He could not frame a new doctrine, but he 
 had serious doubts whether the ceremonies his priests 
 performed were as simple and religious as he wished 
 them to be. The chants, long hymns of endless repe 
 tition and monotony, were well enough, perhaps ; the 
 fire that was kept burning perpetually was a fitting 
 emblem of the sleepless wisdom and activity of the 
 Supreme Being in overcoming darkness with light. 
 But the boundless intoxication into which the priests 
 threw themselves by the excessive drinking of the 
 Haoma, the wild and irregular acts of frenzy by 
 which they expressed their religious fervour when 
 under the influence of the subtle drink, were adjuncts 
 to the simple purity of the bloodless sacrifice which 
 disgusted the king, and he hesitated long as to some 
 reform in these matters. The oldest Mazdayashnians 
 declared that the drinking of Haoma was an act, at 
 
202 ZOROASTER. 
 
 once pleasing to God and necessary to stimulate the 
 zeal of the priests in the long and monotonous chant 
 ing, which would otherwise soon sink to a mere 
 perfunctory performance of a wearisome task. The 
 very repetition which the hymns contained seemed to 
 prove that they were not intended to be recited by 
 men not under some extraordinary influence. Only 
 the wild madness of the Haoma drinker could sustain 
 such an endless series of repeated prayers with fitting 
 devotion and energy. 
 
 All this the king heard and was not satisfied. He 
 attended the ceremonies with becoming regularity and 
 sat through the performance of the rites with exem 
 plary patience. But he was disgusted, and he desired 
 a reform. Then he remembered how Zoroaster him 
 self was a good Mazdayashnian, and how he had occu 
 pied himself with religious studies from his youth up, 
 and how he had enjoyed the advantage of being the 
 companion of Daniel, the Hebrew governor, whose 
 grand simplicity of faith had descended, to some 
 degree, upon his pupil. The Hebrews, Darius knew, 
 were a sober people of the strongest religious convic 
 tions, and he had heard that, although eating formed, 
 in some way, a part of their ceremonies, there was no 
 intoxication connected with their worship. Zoroaster, 
 he thought, would be able to give him advice upon 
 this point, which would be good. In sending for the 
 man he would fulfil the double purpose of seeming 
 to grant the queen's request, and at the same time, of 
 providing himself with a sage counsellor in his diffi 
 culties. With his usual impetuosity, he at once ful 
 filled his purpose, assuring himself that Zoroaster 
 
ZOBOASTER. 203 
 
 must have forgotten Nehushta by this time, and that 
 he, the king, was strong enough to prevent trouble 
 if he had not. 
 
 But many days passed, and though the proclama 
 tion was sent to all parts of the kingdom, nothing was 
 heard of Zoroaster. His retreat was a sure one and 
 there was no possibility of his being found. 
 
 Atossa, who in her heart longed for Zoroaster's 
 return, both because by his means she hoped to bring 
 trouble upon Nehushta, and because she still felt 
 something akin to love for him, began to fear that 
 he might be dead, or might have wandered out of the 
 kingdom ; but Nehushta herself knew not whether to 
 hope that he would return, or to rejoice that she was 
 to escape the ordeal of meeting him. She would have 
 given anything to see him for a moment, to decide, as 
 it were, whether she wished to see him, or not. She 
 was deeply disturbed by the anxiety she felt and longed 
 to know definitely what she was to expect. 
 
 She began to hate Stakhar with its splendid gar 
 dens and gorgeous colonnades, with its soft southern 
 air that blew across the valley of roses all day long, 
 wafting up a wondrous perfume to the south windows. 
 She hated the indolent pomp in which she lived and 
 the idle luxury of her days. Something in her hot- 
 blooded Hebrew nature craved for the blazing sun 
 and the sand-wastes of Syria, for the breath of the 
 desert and for the burning heat of the wilderness. 
 She had scarcely ever seen these things, for she had 
 sojourned during the one-and-twenty years of her 
 life, in the most magnificent palaces of the kingdom, 
 and amid the fairest gardens the hand of man could 
 
 Vol. 6 I 
 
204 ZOROASTER. 
 
 plant. But the love of the sun and of the sand was 
 bred in the blood. She began to hate the soft cush 
 ions and the delicate silks and the endless flowers 
 scenting the heavy air. 
 
 Stakhar 1 itself was a mighty fortress, in the valley 
 of the Araxes, rising dark and forbidding from the 
 banks of the little river, crowned with towers and 
 turrets and massive battlements, that overlooked the 
 fertile extent of gardens, as a stern schoolmaster 
 frowning over a crowd of fair young children. But 
 Darius had chosen the site of his palace at some dis 
 tance from the stronghold ; where the river bent sud 
 denly round a spur of the mountain, and watered a 
 wider extent of land. The spur of the hill ran down, 
 by an easy gradation, into the valley ; and beyond it 
 the hills separated into the wide plain of Merodasht 
 that stretched southward many farsangs to the south 
 ern pass. Upon this promontory the king had caused 
 to be built a huge platform which was ascended by 
 the broadest flight of steps in the whole world, so easy 
 of gradation that a man might easily have ridden up 
 and then down again without danger to his horse. 
 Upon the platform was raised the palace, a mighty 
 structure resting on the vast columned porticoes and 
 halls, built entirely of polished black marble, tha 1 
 contrasted strangely with the green slopes of the hills 
 above and with the bright colours of the rose-gardens. 
 Endless buildings rose behind the palace, and stretched 
 far down towards the river below it. Most prominent 
 of those above was the great temple of Auramazda, 
 where the ceremonies were performed which gave 
 
 1 Istakkar, called since the conquest of Alexander, Persepolis. 
 
ZOKOASTBR. 205 
 
 Darius so much anxiety. It was a massive, square 
 building, lower than the palace, consisting of stone 
 walls surrounded by a deep portico of polished col 
 umns. It was not visible from the great staircase, 
 being placed immediately behind the palace and hid 
 den by it. 
 
 The walls and the cornices and the capitals of the 
 pillars were richly sculptured with sacrificial proces 
 sions, and long trains of soldiers and captives, with 
 great inscriptions of wedge-shaped letters, and with 
 animals of all sorts. The work was executed by 
 Egyptian captives; and so carefully was the hard 
 black marble carved and polished, that a man could 
 see his face in the even surfaces, and they sent back 
 the light like dark mirrors. 
 
 The valley above Stakhar was grand in its great 
 outlines of crags and sharp, dark peaks, and the 
 beetling fortress upon its rocky base, far up the 
 gorge, seemed only a jutting fragment of the great 
 mountain, thrown off and separated from the main 
 chain by an earthquake, or some vast accident of 
 nature. But from the palace itself the contrast of 
 the views was great. On one side, the rugged hills, 
 crag-crowned and bristling black against the north 
 western sky; on the other, the great bed of rose- 
 gardens and orangeries and cultivated enclosures 
 filled the plain, till in the dim distance rose the level 
 line of the soft blue southern hills, blending mistily 
 in the lazy light of a far-off warmth. It seemed as 
 though on one side of the palace were winter, and on 
 the other summer ; on the one side cold, and on the 
 other heat ; on the one side rough strength, and on 
 the other gentle rest. 
 
206 ZOROASTEK. 
 
 But Nehushta gazed northward and was weary of 
 the cold, and southward, and she wearied of the heat. 
 There was nothing nothing in it all that was worth 
 one moment of the old sweet moonlit evenings among 
 the myrtles at Ecbatana. When she thought, there 
 was nothing of all her royal state and luxury that 
 she would not readily give to have had Zoroaster re 
 main faithful to her. She had put him away from 
 her heart, driven him out utterly, as she believed; 
 but now that he was spoken of again, she knew not 
 whether she loved him a little in spite of all his un 
 faithfulness, or whether it was only the memory of 
 the love she had felt before which stirred in her 
 breast, and made her unconsciously speak his name 
 when she was alone. 
 
 She looked back over the three years that were 
 passed, and she knew that she had done her duty by 
 the king. She knew also that she had done it will 
 ingly, and that there had been many moments when 
 she said to herself that she loved Darius dearly. In 
 deed, it was not hard to find a reason for loving him, 
 for he was brave and honest and noble in all his 
 thoughts and ways ; and whatever he had been able 
 to do to show his love for Nehushta, he had done. 
 It was not the least of the things that had made her 
 life pass so easily, that she felt daily how she was 
 loved before her rival, and how, in her inmost heart, 
 Atossa chafed at seeing Darius forsake her society for 
 that of the Hebrew princess. If the king had wearied 
 of her, Nehushta would very likely have escaped 
 from the palace, and gone out to face any misfortunes 
 the world might hold for her, rather than remain to 
 
ZOKOASTBR. 207 
 
 bear the scoffing of the fair smiling woman she so 
 hated. Or, she would have stolen in by night to 
 where Atossa slept, and the wicked-looking Indian 
 knife she wore, would have gone down, swift and 
 sure, to the very haft, into the queen's heart. She 
 would not have borne tamely any slight upon her 
 beauty or her claims. But, as it was, she reigned 
 supreme. The king was just, and showed no differ 
 ence in the state and attendance of the two queens, 
 but it was to Nehushta he turned, when he drank 
 deep at the banquet and pledged the loving cup. It 
 was to Nehushta that he went when the cares of state 
 were heavy and he needed counsel ; and it was upon 
 her lap he laid his weary head, when he had ridden 
 far and fast for many days, returning from some hard- 
 fought field. 
 
 But the queens hated each other with a fierce 
 hatred, and when Darius was absent, their divisions 
 broke out sometimes into something like open strife. 
 Their guards buffeted each other in the courts, and 
 their slave-women tore out each other's hair upon the 
 stairways. Then, when the king returned, there 
 reigned an armed peace for a time, which none dared 
 break. But rumours of the disturbances that had 
 taken place often reached the royal ears, and Darius 
 was angry and swore great oaths, but could do noth 
 ing ; being no wiser than many great men who have 
 had to choose between the caprices of two women 
 who hated each other. 
 
 Now the rumour went abroad that Zoroaster would 
 return to the court ; and for a space, the two queens 
 kept aloof, for both knew that if he came back, some 
 
208 ZOROASTER. 
 
 mortal conflict would of necessity arise between them ; 
 and each watched the other, and was cautious. 
 
 The days passed by, but no one answered the proc 
 lamation. No one had seen or heard of Zoroaster, 
 since the night when he left the palace at Shushan. 
 He had taken nothing with him, and had left no trace 
 behind to guide the search. Many said he had left 
 the kingdom ; some said he was dead in the wilder 
 ness. But Nehushta sighed and took little rest, for 
 do what she would, she had hoped to see him once 
 more. 
 
ZOROASTER. 209 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE interior of the temple was lighted with innum 
 erable lamps, suspended from the ceiling, of bronze 
 and of the simplest workmanship, like everything 
 which pertained to the worship of Auramazda. In 
 the midst, upon a small altar of black stone, stood a 
 bronze brazier, shaped like a goblet, wherein a small 
 fire of wood burned quietly, sending up little wreaths 
 of smoke, which spread over the flat ceiling and hung 
 like a mist about the lamps ; before the altar lay a 
 supply of fuel fine, evenly-cut sticks of white pine- 
 wood, piled in regular order in a symmetrical heap. 
 At one extremity of the oblong hall stood a huge 
 mortar of black marble, having a heavy wooden pestle, 
 and standing upon a circular base, in which was cut 
 a channel all around, with an opening in the front from 
 which the Haoma juice poured out abundantly when 
 the fresh milkweed was moistened and pounded to 
 gether in the mortar. A square receptacle of marble 
 received the fluid, which remained until it had fer 
 mented during several days, and had acquired the 
 intoxicating strength for which it was prized, and to 
 which it owed its sacred character. By the side of 
 this vessel, upon a low marble table, lay a huge 
 wooden ladle ; and two golden cups, short and wide, 
 but made smaller in the middle like a sand-glass, stood 
 there also. 
 
210 ZOROASTER. 
 
 At the opposite end of the temple, before a marble 
 screen which shielded the doorway, was placed a great 
 carved chair of ebony and gold and silver, raised upon 
 a step above the level of the floor. 
 
 It was already dark when the king entered the 
 temple, dressed in his robes of state, with his sword 
 by his side, his long sceptre tipped with the royal 
 sphere in his right hand, and the many-pointed crown 
 upon his head. His heavy black beard had grown 
 longer in the three years that had passed, and flowed 
 down over his vest of purple and white halfway to 
 his belt. His face was stern, and the deep lines of 
 his strong features had grown more massive in out 
 line. With the pride of every successive triumph 
 had come also something more of repose and con 
 scious power. His step was slower, and his broad 
 brown hand grasped the golden sceptre with less of 
 nervous energy and more unrelenting force. But his 
 brows were bent, and his expression, as he took his 
 seat before the screen, over against the altar of the 
 fire, was that of a man who was prepared to be dis 
 contented and cared little to conceal what he felt. 
 
 After him came the chief priest, completely robed 
 in white, with a thick, white linen sash rolled for a 
 girdle about his waist, the fringed ends hanging stiffly 
 down upon one side. Upon his head he wore a great 
 mitre, also of white linen, and a broad fringed stole 
 of the same material fell in two wide bands from each 
 side of his neck to his feet. His beard was black and 
 glossy, fine as silk, and reached almost to his waist. 
 He came and stood with his back to the king and his 
 face to the altar, ten paces from the second fire. 
 
ZOROASTER. 211 
 
 Then, from behind the screen and from each side of 
 it, the other priests filed out, two and two, all clad in 
 white like the chief priest, save that their mitres were 
 smaller and they wore no stole. They came out and 
 ranged themselves around the walls of the temple, 
 threescore and nine men, of holy order, trained in 
 the ancient chanting of the Mazdayashnian hymns; 
 men in the prime and strength of life, black-bearded 
 and broad-shouldered, whose massive brows and 
 straight features indicated noble powers of mind 
 and body. 
 
 The two who stood nearest to the chief priest came 
 forward, and taking from his hands a square linen 
 cloth he bore, bound it across his mouth and tied it 
 behind his neck in a firm knot by means of strings. 
 Then, one of them put into his left hand a fan of 
 eagles' feathers, and the other gave him a pair of 
 wrought-iron pincers. Then they left him to advance 
 alone to the altar. 
 
 He went forward till he was close to the bronze 
 brazier, and stooping down, he took from the heap of 
 fuel a clean white stick, with the pincers, which he 
 carefully laid upon the fire. Then with his left hand 
 he gently fanned the flames, and his mouth being 
 protected by the linen cloth in such a manner that 
 his breath could not defile the sacred fire, he began 
 slowly and in a voice muffled by the bandage he wore, 
 to recite the beginning of the sacrificial hymn: 
 
 u Best of all goods is purity. 
 Glory, glory to him 
 Who is best and purest in purity. 
 
212 ZOROASTER. 
 
 For he who ruleth from purity, he abideth according 
 
 to the will of the Lord. 
 The All- Wise giveth gifts for the works which man 
 
 doeth in the world for the Lord. 
 He who protecteth the poor giveth the kingdom to 
 
 Ahura." * 
 
 Then all the priests repeated the verses together 
 in chorus, their voices sounding in a unison which, 
 though not precisely song, seemed tending to a musi 
 cal cadence as the tones rose and fell again upon the 
 last two syllables of each verse. And then again, the 
 chief priest and the other priests together repeated 
 the hymn, many times, in louder and louder chorus, 
 with more and more force of intonation ; till the chief 
 priest stepped back from the fire, and delivering up 
 the pincers and the fan, allowed the two assistants to 
 unbind the cloth from his mouth. 
 
 He walked slowly up the temple on the left side, 
 and keeping his right hand toward the altar, he 
 walked seven times around it, repeating a hymn alone 
 in low tones ; till, after the seventh time, he went up 
 to the farther end of the hall, and stood before the 
 black marble trough in which the fermented Haoma 
 stood ready, having been prepared with due cere 
 mony three days before. 
 
 Then, in a loud voice, he intoned the chant in 
 praise of Zaothra and Bareshma, holding high in his 
 right hand the bundle of sacred stalks; which he, 
 from time to time, moistened a little in the water 
 from a vessel which stood ready, and sprinkled to 
 
 1 Probably the oldest hymns in the Avesta language. 
 
ZOEOASTBB. 213 
 
 the four corners of the temple. The priests again 
 took up the strain in chorus, repeating over and over 
 the burden of the song. 
 
 " Zaothra, I praise thee and desire thee with praise ! 
 Bareshma, I praise thee and desire thee with praise! 
 Zaothra, with Bareshma united, I praise you and 
 
 desire you with praise ! 
 Bareshma, with Zaothra united, I praise you and 
 
 desire you with praise ! " 
 
 Suddenly the chief priest laid down the Bareshma, 
 and seizing one of the golden goblets, filled it, with 
 the wooden ladle, from the dark receptacle of the 
 juice. As he poured it high, the yellow light of the 
 lamp caught the transparent greenish fluid, and 
 made it sparkle strangely. He put the goblet to his 
 lips and drank. 
 
 The king, sitting in silence upon his carved 
 throne at the other extremity of the temple, bent his 
 brows in a dark frown as he saw the hated ceremony 
 begin. He knew how it ended, and grand as the 
 words were which they would recite when the sub 
 tle fluid had fired their veins, he loathed to see the 
 intoxication that got possession of them; and the 
 frenzy with which they howled the sacred strains 
 seemed to him to destroy the solemnity and dignity 
 of a hymn, in which all that was solemn and high 
 would otherwise have seemed to be united. 
 
 The chief priest drank and then, filling both gob 
 lets, gave them to the priests at his right and left 
 hand; who, after drinking, passed each other, and 
 made way for those next them; and so the whole 
 
214 ZOROASTER. 
 
 number filed past the Haoma vessel and drank their 
 share till they all had changed places, and those who 
 had stood upon the right, now stood upon the left ; 
 and those who were first upon the left hand, were 
 now upon the right. And when all had drunk, the 
 chief priest intoned the great hymn of praise, and all 
 the chorus united with him in high, clear tones : 
 
 " The All- Wise Creator, Ahura Mazda, the greatest, 
 the best, the most fair in glory and majesty, 
 
 " The mightiest in his strength, the wisest in his 
 wisdom, the holiest in his holiness, whose power is of all 
 power the fairest, 
 
 " Who is very wise, who maketh all things to rejoice 
 afar, 
 
 " Who hath made us and formed us, who hath saved 
 us, the holiest among the heavenly ones, 
 
 " Him I adore and praise, unto him I declare the 
 sacrifice, him I invite, 
 
 " I declare the sacrifice to the Protector, the Peace 
 maker, who maketh the fire to burn, who preserveth the 
 wealth of the earth ; the whole earth and the wisdom 
 thereof, the seas and the waters, the land and all grow 
 ing things, I invite to the sacrifice. 
 
 " Cattle and living things, and the fire of Ahura, the 
 sure helper, the lord of the archangels, 
 
 " The nights and the days, I call upon, the purity of 
 all created light, 
 
 " The Lord of light, the sun in his glory, glorious in 
 name and worthy of honour, 
 
 " Who giveth food unto men, and multiplied the 
 cattle upon the earth, who causeth mankind to increase^ 
 I call upon and invite to the sacrifice. 
 
ZOROASTER. 215 
 
 " Water, and the centre of all waters, given and made 
 of Crod, that refresheth all things and maketh all things 
 to grow, I call upon and invite. 
 
 " The souls of the righteous and pure, the whole 
 multitude of living men and women upon earth, I call 
 upon and invite. 
 
 " / call upon the triumph and the mighty strength of 
 God, 
 
 " / call upon the archangels who keep the world, upon 
 the months, upon the pure, new moon, the lordship of 
 purity in heaven, 
 
 " I call upon the feasts of the years and the seasons, 
 upon the years and the months and days, 
 
 " / call upon the star Ahura, 1 and upon the one great 
 and eternal in purity, and upon all the stars, the works 
 of G-od, 
 
 " Upon the star Tistrya I call, the far-shining, the 
 magnificent upon the fair moon that shineth upon 
 the young cattle, upon the glorious sun swift in the race 
 of his flight, the eye of the Lord. 
 
 " I call upon the spirits and souls of the righteous, on 
 the fire-begotten of the Lord, and upon all fires. 
 
 " Mountains and all hills, lightened and full of light. 
 
 " Majesty of kingly honour, the Majesty of the king 
 which dieth not, is not diminished, 
 
 "All wisdom and blessings and true promises, all 
 men who are full of strength and power and might, 
 
 " All places and lands and countries beneath the 
 heavens, and above the heavens, light without beginning, 
 existing, and without end, 
 
 " All creatures pure and good, male and female upon 
 the earth. 
 
 1 Ahura, Jupiter. Tistrya, Sirius. 
 
216 ZOROASTER. 
 
 " All you I invite and call upon to the sacrifice. 
 
 " Havani, pure, lord of purity ! 
 
 " Shavanghi, pure, lord of purity ! 
 
 " Rapithwina, pure, lord of purity ! 
 
 " Uzayirina, pure, lord of purity ! 
 
 " A iwishruthrema, Aibigaya, pure, lord of purity t 
 
 " Ushahina, pure, lord of purity ! 
 
 " To Havani, Shavanghi and Vishya, the pure, the 
 lords of purity most glorious, be honour and prayer and 
 fulfilment and praise. 
 
 " To the days, and the nights, and the hours, the 
 months and the years and the feasts of years, be honour 
 and prayer and fulfilment and praise before Aura- 
 mazda, the All- Wise, for ever and ever and ever." l 
 
 As the white-robed priests shouted the verses of 
 the long hymn, their eyes flashed and their bodies 
 moved rhythmically from side to side with an ever- 
 increasing motion. From time to time, the golden 
 goblets were filled with the sweet Haoma juice, and 
 passed rapidly from hand to hand along the line, and 
 as each priest drank more freely of the subtle fer 
 mented liquor, his eyes gained a new and more unnat 
 ural light, and his gestures grew more wild, while 
 the whole body of voices rose together from an even 
 and dignified chant to an indistinguishable discord of 
 deafening yells. 
 
 Ever more and more they drank, repeating the 
 verses of the hymn without order or sequence. One 
 man repeated a verse over and over again in ear- 
 
 1 Partly a translation, partly a close imitation in a condensed 
 form of Yashna L 
 
ZOROASTER. 217 
 
 piercing shrieks, swaying his body to and fro till he 
 dropped forward upon the ground, foaming at the 
 mouth, his features distorted with a wild convulsion, 
 and his limbs as rigid as stone. Here, a band of five 
 locked their arms together, and, back to back, whirled 
 madly round, screaming out the names of the arch 
 angels, in an indiscriminate rage of sound and broken 
 syllables. One, less enduring than the rest, relaxed 
 his hold upon his fellow's arm and fell headlong on 
 the pavement, while the remaining four were carried 
 on by the force of their whirling, and fell together 
 against others who steadied themselves against the 
 wall, swaying their heads and arms from side to side. 
 Overthrown by the fall of their companions, these in 
 their turn fell forward upon the others, and in a few 
 moments, the whole company of priests lay grovelling 
 one upon the other, foaming at the mouth, but still 
 howling out detached verses of their hymn a mass 
 of raging, convulsed humanity, tearing each other in 
 the frenzy of drunkenness, rolling over and over each 
 other in the twisted contortions of frenzied maniacs. 
 The air grew thick with the smoke of the fire and of 
 the lamps, and the unceasing, indescribable din of 
 the hoarsely howling voices seemed to make the very 
 roof rock upon the pillars that held it up, as though 
 the stones themselves must go mad and shriek in the 
 universal fury of sound. The golden goblets rolled 
 upon the marble pavement, and the sweet green juice 
 ran in slimy streams upon the floor. The high priest 
 himself, utterly intoxicated and screaming with a 
 voice like a wild beast in agony, fell backwards across 
 the marble vase at the foot of the mortar and hia 
 
218 ZOROASTER. 
 
 hand and arm plashed into the dregs of the fermented 
 Haoma. 
 
 Never had the drunken frenzy reached such a 
 point before. The king had sat motionless and 
 frowning upon his seat until he saw the high priest 
 fall headlong into the receptacle of the sacred Haoma. 
 Then, with a groan, he laid his two hands upon the 
 arms of his carved chair, and rose to his feet in utter 
 disgust and horror. But, as he turned to go, he stood 
 still and shook from head to foot, for he saw beside 
 him a figure that might, at such a moment, have 
 startled the boldest. 
 
 A tall man of unearthly looks stood there, whose 
 features he seemed to know, but could not recognise. 
 His face was thin to emaciation, and his long, white 
 hair fell in tangled masses, with his huge beard, upon 
 his half-naked shoulders and bare chest. The torn, 
 dark mantle he wore was falling to the ground as he 
 faced the drunken herd of howling priests and lifted 
 up his thin blanched arms and bony fingers, as though 
 in protest at the hideous sight. His deep-set eyes 
 were blue and fiery, flashing with a strange light. 
 He seemed not to see Darius, but he gazed in deepest 
 horror upon the writhing mass of bestial humanity 
 below. 
 
 Suddenly his arms shook, and standing there, 
 against the dark marble screen, like the very figure 
 and incarnation of fate, he spoke in a voice that, 
 without effort, seemed to dominate the hideous din of 
 yelling voices a voice that was calm and clear as a 
 crystal bell, but having that in it which carried in 
 stantly the words he spoke to the ears of the very 
 
ZOROASTER. 219 
 
 most besotted wretch that lay among the heaps upon 
 the floor a voice that struck like a sharp steel blade 
 upon iron. 
 
 "I am the prophet of the Lord. Hold 'ye your 
 peace." 
 
 As a wild beast's howling suddenly diminishes and 
 grows less and dies away to silence, when the hun 
 ter's arrow has sped close to the heart with a mortal 
 wound, so in one moment, the incoherent din sank 
 down, and the dead stillness that followed was dread 
 ful by contrast. Darius stood with his hand upon 
 the arm of his chair, not understanding the words of 
 the fearful stranger; still less the mastering power 
 those words had upon the drunken priests. But his 
 courage did not desert him, and he feared not to speak. 
 
 " How sayest thou that thou art a prophet ? Who 
 art thou ? " he asked. 
 
 "Thou knowest me and hast sent for me," an 
 swered the white-haired man, in his calm tones ; but 
 his fiery eyes rested on the king's, and Darius almost 
 quailed under the glance. " I am Zoroaster ; I am 
 come to proclaim the truth to thee and to these mis 
 erable men, thy priests." 
 
 The fear they felt had restored the frenzied men to 
 their senses. One by one, they rose and crept back 
 towards the high priest himself, who had struggled to 
 his feet, and stood upon the basement of the mortar 
 above all the rest. 
 
 Then Darius looked, and he knew that it was Zoro 
 aster, but he knew not the strange look upon his face, 
 and the light in his eyes was not as the light of other 
 days. He turned to the priests. 
 
220 ZOROASTER. 
 
 " Ye are unworthy priests," he cried angrily, " for 
 ye are drunk with your own sacrifice, and ye defile 
 God's temple with unseemly cries. Behold this man 
 can ye tell me whether he be indeed a prophet ? " 
 Darius, whose anger was fast taking the place of the 
 awe he had felt when he first saw Zoroaster beside 
 him, strode a step forward, with his hand upon his 
 sword-hilt, as though he would take summary ven 
 geance upon the desecrators of the temple. 
 
 44 He is surely a liar ! " cried the high priest from 
 his position beyond the altar, as though hurling de 
 fiance at Zoroaster through the flames. 
 
 " He is surely a liar ! " repeated all the priests 
 together, following their head. 
 
 " He is a Magian, a worshipper of idols, a liar and 
 the father of lies ! Down with him ! Slay him be 
 fore the altar ; destroy the unbeliever that entereth 
 the temple of Ahura Mazda ! " 
 
 " Down with the Magian ! Down with the idol 
 ater ! " cried the priests, and moved forward in a 
 body toward the thin white-haired man who stood 
 facing them, serene and high. 
 
 Darius drew his short sword and rushed before 
 Zoroaster to strike down the foremost of the priests. 
 But Zoroaster seized the keen blade in the air as 
 though it had been a reed, and wrenched it from the 
 king's strong grip, and broke it in pieces like glass, 
 and cast the fragments at his feet. Darius staggered 
 back in amazement, and the herd of angry men, in 
 whose eyes still blazed the drunkenness of the Haoma, 
 huddled together for a moment like frightened 
 sheep. 
 
ZOROASTER. 221 
 
 " I have no need of swords," said Zoroaster, in his 
 cold, clear voice. 
 
 Then the high priest cried aloud, and ran forward 
 and seized a brand from the sacred fire. 
 
 " It is Angramainyus, the Power of Evil," he yelled 
 fiercely. " He is come to fight with Auramazda in 
 his temple ! But the fire of the Lord shall destroy 
 him!" 
 
 As the priest rushed upon him, with the blazing 
 brand raised high to strike, Zoroaster faced him and 
 fixed his eyes upon the angry man. The priest sud 
 denly stood still, his hand in mid-air, and the stout 
 piece of burning wood fell to the floor, and lay smoul 
 dering and smoking upon the pavement. 
 
 " Tempt not the All- Wise Lord, lest he destroy 
 thee," said Zoroaster solemnly. " Harken, ye priests, 
 and obey the word from heaven. Take the brazier 
 from your altar, and scatter the embers upon the 
 floor, for the fire is defiled." 
 
 Silent and trembling, the priests obeyed, for they 
 were afraid; but the high priest stood looking in 
 amazement upon Zoroaster. 
 
 When the brazier was gone, and the coals were 
 scattered out upon the pavement, and the priests had 
 trodden out the fire with their leathern shoes, Zoroaster 
 went to the black marble altar, and faced the east, 
 looking towards the stone mortar at the end. He laid 
 his long, thin hands upon the flat surface and drew 
 them slowly together ; and, in the sight of the priests, 
 a light sprang up softly between his fingers ; gradually 
 at first, then higher and higher, till it stood like a 
 blazing spear-head in the midst, emitting a calm, 
 
222 ZOROASTER. 
 
 white effulgence that darkened the lamps overhead, 
 and shed an unearthly whiteness on Zoroaster's white 
 face. 
 
 He stepped back from the altar, and a low murmur 
 of astonishment rose from all the crowd of white- 
 robed men. Darius stood in silent wonder, gazing 
 alternately upon the figure of Zoroaster, and upon 
 the fragments of his good sword that lay scattered 
 upon the pavement. 
 
 Zoroaster looked round upon the faces of the priests 
 with blazing eyes : 
 
 " If ye be true priests of Ahura Mazda, raise with 
 me the hymn of praise," he said. " Let it be heard 
 in the heavens, and let it echo beyond the spheres ! " 
 
 Then his voice rose calm and clear above all the 
 others, and lifting up his eyes and hands, he intoned 
 the solemn chant : 
 
 "He, who by truth ruleth in purity, abideth accord 
 ing to the will of the Lord. 
 
 " The Lord All- Wise is the giver of gifts to men for 
 the works which men in the world shall do in the truth 
 of the Lord. 
 
 " He who protecteth the poor giveth the kingdom to 
 God. 
 
 " Best of all earthly goods is truth. 
 
 " Glory, glory on high for ever to him who is best in 
 heaven, and truest in truth on earth ! " 
 
 Zoroaster's grand voice rang out, and all the priests 
 sang melodiously together; and upon the place which 
 had been the scene of such frenzy and fury and 
 drunkenness, there descended a peace as holy and 
 
ZOBOASTEK. 223 
 
 calm as the quiet flame that burned without fuel upon 
 the black stone in the midst. One by one, the priests 
 came and fell at Zoroaster's feet; the chief priest 
 first of all. 
 
 i4 Thou art the prophet and priest of the Lord," 
 each said, one after another. "I acknowledge thee 
 to be the chief priest, and I swear to be a true priest 
 with thee." 
 
 And last of all, the king, who had stood silently 
 by, came and would have kneeled before Zoroaster. 
 But Zoroaster took his hands, and they embraced. 
 
 " Forgive me the wrong I did thee, Zoroaster," said 
 Darius. " For thou art a holy man, and I will hon 
 our thee as thou wast not honoured before." 
 
 " Thou hast done me no wrong," answered Zoro 
 aster. " Thou hast sent for me, and I am come to be 
 thy faithful friend, as I swore to thee, long ago, in 
 the tent at Shushan." 
 
 Then they took Zoroaster's torn clothes, and they 
 clad him in white robes and set a spotless mitre upon 
 his head ; and the king, for the second time, took his 
 golden chain from his own neck, and put it about 
 Zoroaster's shoulders. And they led him away into 
 the palace. 
 
224 ZOROASTER. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 WHEN it was known that Zoroaster had returned, 
 there was some stir in the palace. The news that he 
 was made high priest soon reached Nehushta's ears, 
 and she wondered what change had come over him 
 in three years that could have made a priest of such 
 a man. She remembered him young and marvel 
 lously fair, a warrior at all points, though at the 
 same time an accomplished courtier. She could not 
 imagine him invested with the robes of priesthood, 
 leading a chorus of singers in the chanting of the 
 hymns. 
 
 But it was not only as a chief priest that Darius 
 had reinstalled Zoroaster in the palace. The king 
 needed a counsellor and adviser, and the learned 
 priest seemed a person fitted for the post. 
 
 On the following day, Nehushta, as was her wont, 
 went out, in the cool of the evening, to walk in the 
 gardens, attended by her maidens, her fan-girls and 
 the slaves who bore her carpet and cushions in case 
 she wished to sit down. She walked languidly, as 
 though she hardly cared to lift her delicate slippered 
 feet from the smooth walk, and often she paused and 
 plucked a flower, and all her train of serving-women 
 stopped behind her, not daring even to whisper among 
 themselves, for the young queen was in no gentle 
 humour of mind. Her face was pale and her eyes 
 
ZOROASTER. 225 
 
 were heavy, for she knew the man she had so loved 
 in other days was near, and though he had so bitterly 
 deceived her, the sound of his sweet promises was 
 yet in her ears; and sometimes, in her dreams, she 
 felt the gentle breath of his mouth upon her sleeping 
 lips, and woke with a start of joy that was but the 
 forerunner of a new sadness. 
 
 Slowly she paced the walks of the rose-gardens, 
 thinking of another place in the far north, where 
 there had been roses, and myrtles too, upon a terrace 
 where the moonlight was very fair. 
 
 As she turned a sharp corner where the overhang 
 ing shrubbery darkened the declining light to a dusky 
 shade, she found herself face to face with the man of 
 whom she was thinking. His tall thin figure, clad 
 in spotless white robes, seemed like a shadow in the 
 gloom, and his snowy beard and hair made a strange 
 halo about his young face, that was so thin and worn. 
 He walked slowly, his hands folded together, and 
 his eyes upon the ground ; while a few paces behind 
 him two young priests followed with measured steps, 
 conversing in low tones, as though fearing to disturb 
 the meditations of their master. 
 
 Nehushta started a little and would have passed 
 on, although she recognised the face of him she had 
 loved. But Zoroaster lifted his eyes, and looked on 
 her with so strange an expression that she stopped 
 short in the way. The deep, calm light in his eyes 
 awed her, and there was something in his majestic 
 presence that seemed of another world. 
 
 " Hail, Nehushta ! " said the high priest quietly. 
 
 But, at the sound of his voice, the spell was broken. 
 
226 ZOROASTER. 
 
 The Hebrew woman lifted her head proudly, and her 
 black eyes flashed again. 
 
 " Greet me not," she answered, " for the greeting 
 of a liar is like the sting of the serpent that striketh 
 unawares in the dark." 
 
 Zoroaster's face never changed, only his luminous 
 eyes gazed on hers intently, and she paused again, as 
 though riveted to the spot. 
 
 " I lie not, nor have lied to thee ever," he answered 
 calmly. " Go thou hence, ask her whom thou hatest, 
 whether I have deceived thee. Farewell." 
 
 He turned his gaze from her and passed slowly on, 
 looking down to the ground, his hands folded before 
 him. He left her standing in the way, greatly 
 troubled and not understanding his saying. 
 
 Had she not seen with her eyes how he held Atossa 
 in his arms on that evil morning in Shushan ? Had 
 she not seen how, when he was sent away, he had 
 written a letter to Atossa and no word to herself? 
 Could these things which she had seen and known, 
 be untrue? The thought was horrible that her 
 whole life had perhaps been wrecked and ruined by 
 a mistake. And yet there was not any mistake, she 
 repeated to herself. She had seen ; one must believe 
 what one sees. She had heard Atossa's passionate 
 words of love, and had seen Zoroaster's arms go 
 round her drooping body ; one must believe what one 
 sees and hears and knows ! 
 
 But there was a ringing truth in his voice just 
 now when he said : " I lie not, nor have lied to thee 
 ever." A lie no, not spoken, but done ; and the 
 lie of an action is greater than the lie of a word 
 
ZOROASTER. 227 
 
 And yet, his voice sounded true just now in the dusk, 
 and there was something in it, something like the 
 ring of a far regret. " Ask her whom thou hatest," 
 he had said. That was Atossa. There was no other 
 woman whom she hated no man save him. 
 
 She had many times asked herself whether or no 
 she loved the king. She felt something for him that 
 she had not felt for Zoroaster. The passionate en 
 thusiasm of the strong, dark warrior sometimes carried 
 her away and raised her with it ; she loved his manli 
 ness, his honesty, his unchanging constancy of pur 
 pose. And yet Zoroaster had had all these, and more 
 also, though they had shown themselves in a different 
 way. She looked back and remembered how calm he 
 had always been, how utterly superior in his wisdom. 
 He seemed scarcely mortal, until he had one day 
 fallen and fallen so desperately low in her view, 
 that she loathed the memory of that feigned calm 
 ness and wisdom and purity. For it must have been 
 feigned. How else could he have put his arms about 
 Atossa, and taken her head upon his breast, while 
 she sobbed out words of love ? 
 
 But if he loved Atossa, she loved him as well. 
 She said so, cried it aloud upon the terrace where 
 any one might have heard it. Why then had he left 
 the court, and hidden himself so long in the wilder 
 ness? Why, before going out on his wanderings, 
 had he disguised himself, and gone and stood where 
 the procession passed, and hissed out a bitter in 
 sult as Nehushta went by? For her sake he had 
 abandoned his brilliant life these three years, to 
 
 dwell in the desert, to grow so thin and miserable of 
 Vol. 6 U 
 
228 ZOROASTER. 
 
 aspect that he looked like an old man. And his hair 
 and beard were white she had heard that a man 
 might turn white from sorrow in a day. Was it 
 grief that had so changed him? Grief to see her 
 wedded to the king before his eyes ? His voice rang 
 so true : " Ask her whom thou hatest," he had said. 
 In truth she would ask. It was all too inexpli 
 cable, and the sudden thought that she had perhaps 
 wronged him three long years ago even the possi 
 bility of the thought that seemed so little possible to 
 her yesterday wrought strangely in her breast, and 
 terrified her. She would ask Atossa to her face 
 whether Zoroaster had loved her. She would tell 
 how she had seen them together upon the balcony, 
 and heard Atossa's quick, hot words. She would 
 threaten to tell the king; and if the elder queen 
 refused to answer truth, she would indeed tell him 
 and put her rival to a bitter shame. 
 
 She walked more quickly upon the smooth path, 
 and her hands wrung each other, and once she felt 
 the haft of that wicked Indian knife she ever wore. 
 When she turned back and went up the broad steps 
 of the palace, the moon was rising above the far 
 misty hills to eastward, and there were lights beneath 
 the columned portico. She paused and looked back 
 across the peaceful valley, and far down below, a 
 solitary nightingale called out a few melancholy notes, 
 and then burst forth into glorious song. 
 
 Nehushta turned again to go in, and there were 
 tears in her dark eyes, that had not stood there for 
 many a long day. But she clasped her hands to 
 gether, and went forward between the crouching 
 
ZOROASTER 229 
 
 slaves, straight to Atossa's apartment. It was not 
 usual for any one to gain access to the elder queen's 
 inner chambers without first obtaining permission 
 from Atossa herself, and Kehushta had never been 
 there. They met rarely in public, and spoke little, 
 though each maintained the appearances of courtesy ; 
 but Atossa's smile was the sweeter of the two. In 
 private they never saw each other ; and the queen's 
 slaves would perhaps have tried to prevent Nehushta 
 from entering, but her black eyes flashed upon them 
 in such dire wrath as she saw them before her, that 
 they crouched away and let her pass on unmolested. 
 
 Atossa sat, as ever at that hour, in her toilet- 
 chamber, surrounded by her tirewomen. The room 
 was larger than the one at Shushan, for she had 
 caused it to be built after her own plans ; but her 
 table was the same as ever, and upon it stood the 
 broad silver mirror, which she never allowed to be 
 left behind when she travelled. 
 
 Her magnificent beauty had neither changed nor 
 faded in three years. Such strength as hers was not 
 to be broken, nor worn out, by the mere petty, annoy 
 ances of palace life. She could sustain the constant 
 little warfare she waged against the king, without 
 even so much as looking careworn -and pale for a 
 moment, though the king himself often looked dark 
 and weary, and his eyes were heavy with sleepless 
 ness for the trouble she gave him. Yet he could 
 never determine to rid himself of her, even when he 
 began to understand the profound badness of her 
 character. She exercised a certain fascination over 
 him, as a man grows fond of some beautiful, wicked 
 
230 ZOROASTER. 
 
 beast he has half-tamed, though it turn and show its 
 teeth at him sometimes, and be altogether more of a 
 care than a pastime. She was so fair and evil that 
 he could not hurt her ; it would have seemed a crime 
 to destroy anything so wondrously made. Moreover, 
 she could amuse him and make many an hour pass 
 pleasantly when she was so disposed. 
 
 She was fully attired for the banquet that was to 
 take place late in the evening, but her women were 
 still about her, and she looked at herself critically in 
 the mirror, and would have changed the pinning of 
 her tiara, so that her fair hair should fall forward upon 
 one side, instead of backwards over her shoulder. 
 She tried the effect of the change upon her face, and 
 peered into the mirror beneath the bright light of the 
 tall lamps; when, on a sudden, as she looked, she 
 met the reflection of two angry dark eyes, and she 
 knew that Nehushta was behind her. 
 
 She rose to her feet, turning quickly, and the sweep 
 of her long robe overthrew the light carved chair upon 
 the marble floor. She faced Nehushta with a cold 
 smile that betrayed surprise at being thus interrupted 
 in her toilet rather than any dread of the interview. 
 Her delicate eyebrows arched themselves in some 
 thing of scorn, but her voice came low and sweet as 
 ever. 
 
 " It is rarely indeed that the queen Nehushta deigns 
 to visit her servant," she said. " Had she sent warn 
 ing of her coming, she would have been more fittingly 
 received." 
 
 Nehushta stood still before her. She hated that 
 cool, still voice that choked her like a tightening bow 
 string about her neck. 
 
ZOROASTER. 231 
 
 " We have small need of court formalities," answered 
 the Hebrew woman, shortly. " I desire to speak with 
 you alone upon a matter of importance." 
 
 "I am alone," returned Atossa, seating herself upon 
 the carved chair, which one of the slaves had instantly 
 set up again, and motioning to Nehushta to be seated. 
 But Nehushta glanced at the serving- women and 
 remained standing. 
 
 " You are not alone," she said briefly. 
 
 " They are not women they are slaves," answered 
 Atossa, with a smile. 
 
 "Will you not send them away?" 
 
 "Why should I?" 
 
 " You need not I will," returned Nehushta. 
 " Begone, and quickly ! " she added, turning to the 
 little group of women and slave-girls who stood to 
 gether, looking on in wonder. At Nehushta's impe 
 rious command, they hurried through the door, and 
 the curtains fell behind them. They knew Nehushta's 
 power in the palace too well to hesitate to obey her, 
 even in the presence of their own mistress. 
 
 " Strange ways you have ! " exclaimed Atossa, in a 
 low voice. She was fiercely angry, but there was no 
 change in her face. She dangled a little chain upon 
 her finger, and tapped the ground with her foot as she 
 sat. That was all. 
 
 " I am not come here to wrangle with you about 
 your slaves. They will obey me without wrangling. 
 I met Zoroaster in the gardens an hour since." 
 
 " By a previous arrangement, of course ? " suggested 
 Atossa, with a sneer. But her clear blue eyes fixed 
 themselves upon Nehushta with a strange and deadly 
 look. 
 
232 ZOROASTER. 
 
 . " Hold your peace and listen to me," said Nehushta 
 in a fierce, low voice, and her slender hand stole to 
 the haft of the knife by her side. 
 
 Atossa was a brave woman, false though she was ; 
 but she saw that the Hebrew princess had her in her 
 power she saw the knife and she saw the gleam in 
 those black eyes. They were riveted on her face, and 
 she grew grave and remained silent. 
 
 " Tell me the truth," pursued Nehushta hurriedly. 
 "Did Zoroaster love you three years ago when I 
 saw you in his arms upon the terrace the morning 
 when he came back from Ecbatana ? " 
 
 But she little knew the woman with whom she had 
 to deal. Atossa had found time in that brief moment 
 to calculate her chances of safety. A weaker woman 
 would have lied; but the fair queen saw that the 
 moment had come wherein she could reap a rich har 
 vest of vengeance upon her rival, and she trusted to 
 her coolness and strength to deliver her if Nehushta 
 actually drew the knife she wore. 
 
 " I loved him," she said slowly. " I love him yet, 
 and I hate you more than I love him. Do you under 
 stand?" 
 
 " Speak go on ! " cried Nehushta, half breathless 
 with anger. 
 
 " I loved him, and I hated you. I hate you still," 
 repeated the queen slowly and gravely. " The letter 
 I had from him was written to you but it was 
 brought to me. Nay be not so angry, it was very 
 long ago. Of course you can murder me, if you 
 please you have me in your power, and you are but 
 a cowardly Jew, like twenty of my slave-women. I 
 
ZOROASTER. 233 
 
 fear you not. Perhaps you would like to hear the 
 end?" 
 
 Nehushta had come nearer and stood looking down 
 at the beautiful woman, her arms folded before her. 
 Atossa never stirred as Nehushta approached, but 
 kept her eye steadily fixed on hers. Nehushta's arms 
 were folded, and the knife hung below her girdle in 
 its loose sheath. 
 
 Atossa's white arm went suddenly out and laid hold 
 of the haft, and the keen blue steel flashed out of its 
 scabbard with a sheen like dark lightning on a sum 
 mer's evening. 
 
 Nehushta started back as she saw the sharp weapon 
 in her enemy's hand. But Atossa laughed a low 
 sweet laugh of triumph. 
 
 " You shall hear the end now," she said, holding the 
 knife firmly in her hand. "You shall not escape 
 hearing the end now, and you shall not murder me 
 with your Indian poisoner here.'* She laughed again 
 as she glanced at the ugly curve of the dagger. " I 
 was talking with Zoroaster," she continued, " when I 
 saw you upon the stairs, and then oh, it was so sweet ! 
 I cried out that he should never leave me again, and I 
 threw my arms aboiit his neck his lordly neck that 
 you so loved ! and I fell, so that he had to hold me 
 up. And you saw him. Oh, it was sweet ! It was 
 the sweetest moment of my life when I heard you 
 groan and hurry away and leave us ! It was to hurt 
 you that I did it that I humbled my queenliness 
 before him ; but I loved him, though and he, he your 
 lover, whom you despised then and cast away for this 
 black-faced king of ours he thrust me from him, and 
 
234 ZOROASTER. 
 
 pushed me off, and drove me weeping to my chamber , 
 and he said he loved me not, nor wished my love. Ay, 
 that was bitter, for I was ashamed I who never was 
 shamed of man or woman. But there was more sweet 
 ness in your torment than bitterness in my shame. 
 He never knew you were there. He screamed out to 
 you from the crowd in the procession his parting curse 
 on your unfaithfulness and went out but he nearly 
 killed those two strong spearmen who tried to seize 
 him. How strong he was then, how brave ! What a 
 noble lover for any woman ! So tall and delicate and 
 fair with all his strength ! He never knew why you 
 left him he thought it was to wear the king's purple, 
 to thrust a bit of gold in your hair ! He must have 
 suffered you have suffered too such delicious 
 torture, I have often soothed myself to sleep with 
 the thought of it. It is very sweet for me to see you 
 lying there with my wound in your heart. It will 
 rankle long ; you cannot get it out you are married 
 to the king now, and Zoroaster has turned priest for 
 love of you. I think even the king would hardly love 
 you if he could see you now you look so pale. I 
 will send for the Chaldean physician you might die. 
 I should be sorry if you died, you could not suffer any 
 more then. I could not give up the pleasure of hurt 
 ing you you have no idea how delicious it is. Oh, 
 how I hate you ! " 
 
 Atossa rose suddenly to her feet, with flashing 
 eyes. Nehushta, in sheer horror of such hideous 
 cruelty, had fallen back against the door-post, and 
 stood grasping the curtain with one hand while the 
 other was pressed to her heart, as though to control 
 
ZOROASTER. 235 
 
 the desperate agony she suffered. Her face was paler 
 than the dead, and her long, black hair fell forward 
 over her ghastly cheeks. 
 
 " Shall I tell you more ? " Atossa began again. 
 " Should you like to hear more of the truth ? I could 
 tell you how the king " 
 
 But as she spoke, Nehushta threw up her hands 
 and pressed them to her throbbing temples ; and with 
 a low wail, she turned and fled through the doorway 
 between the thick curtains, that parted with her 
 weight and fell together again when she had passed. 
 
 " She will tell the king," said Atossa aloud, when 
 she was gone. " I care not but I will keep the 
 knife," she added, laying the keen blade upon the 
 table, amid the little instruments of her toilet. 
 
 But Nehushta ran fast through the corridors and 
 halls till she came to her slaves who had waited for 
 her at the entrance to the queen's apartment. Then 
 she seemed to recollect herself, and slackened her 
 pace, and went on to her own chambers. But her 
 women saw her pale face, and whispered together as 
 they cautiously followed her. 
 
 She was wretched beyond all words. In a moment, 
 her doubts and her fears had all been realised, and 
 the stain of unfaithfulness had been washed from 
 the memory of her lover. But it was too late to re 
 pent her hastiness. She had been married to Darius 
 now for nearly three years, and Zoroaster was a man 
 so changed that she would hardly have recognised 
 him that evening, had she not known that he was in 
 the palace. He looked more like the aged Daniel 
 whom he had buried at Ecbatana than like the lordly 
 
236 ZOROASTER. 
 
 warrior of three years ago. She wondered, as she 
 thought of the sound of his voice in the garden, how 
 she could ever have doubted him, and the remem 
 brance of his clear eyes was both bitter and sweet to 
 her. 
 
 She lay upon her silken pillows and wept hot 
 tears for him she had loved long ago, for him and 
 for herself most of all for the pain she had made 
 him suffer, for that bitter agony that had turned his 
 young, fair locks to snowy white ; she wept the tears 
 for him that she could fancy he must have shed in 
 those long years for her. She buried her face and 
 sobbed aloud, so that even the black fan-girl who 
 stood waving the long palm-leaf over her in the dim 
 light of the bedchamber even the poor black crea 
 ture from the farther desert, whom her mistress did 
 not half believe human, felt pity for the royal sorrow 
 she saw, and took one hand from the fan to brush the 
 tears from her small red eyes. 
 
 Nehushta's heart was broken, and from that day 
 none saw her smile. In one hour the whole misery 
 of all possible miseries came upon her, and bowed her 
 to the ground, and crushed out the life and the light 
 of her nature. As she lay there, she longed to die, as 
 she had never longed for anything while she lived, 
 and she would have had small hesitation in killing the 
 heart that beat with such agonising pain in her breast 
 saving that one thought prevented her. She cared 
 not for revenge any more. What was the life of that 
 cold, cruel thing, the queen, worth, that by taking it, 
 she could gain comfort? But she felt and knew 
 that, before she died, she must see Zoroaster once 
 
ZOROASTER. 237 
 
 more, and tell him that she knew all the truth that 
 she knew he had not deceived her, and that she im 
 plored his forgiveness for the wrong she had done 
 him. He would let her rest her head upon his breast 
 and weep out her heartful of piteous sorrow once 
 before she died. And then the quiet stream of the 
 Araxes flowed softly, cold and clear, among the rose- 
 gardens below the palace. The kindly water would 
 take her to its bosom, beneath the summer's moon, 
 and the nightingales she loved would sing her a gentle 
 good-night good-night for ever, while the cool wave 
 dowed over her weary breast and aching head. 
 
238 ZOROASTER. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 ON the next day, in the cool of the evening, Ne- 
 hushta walked again in the garden. But Zoroaster 
 was not there. And for several days Nehushta came 
 at that hour, and at other hours in the day, but found 
 him not. She saw him indeed from time to time in 
 public, but she had no opportunity of speaking with 
 him as she desired. At last, she determined to send 
 for him, and to see whether he would come, or not. 
 
 She went out, attended only by two slaves ; the 
 one bearing a fan and the other a small carpet and a 
 cushion black women from the southern parts of 
 Syria, towards Egypt, who would not understand the 
 high Persian she would be likely to speak with 
 Zoroaster, though her own Hebrew tongue was intel 
 ligible to them. When she reached a quiet spot, 
 where one of the walks ended suddenly in a little 
 circle among the rose-trees, far down from the palace, 
 she had her carpet spread, and her cushion was placed 
 upon it, and she wearily sat down. The fan-girl 
 began to ply her palm-leaf, as much to cool the heated 
 summer air as to drive away the swarms of tiny gnats 
 which abounded in the garden. Nehushta rested upon 
 one elbow, her feet drawn together upon the carpet 
 of dark soft colours and waited a few minutes as 
 though in thought. At last she seemed to have 
 decided, and turned to the slave who had brought her 
 
ZOROASTER. 239 
 
 cushion, as she stood at a little distance, motionless, 
 her hands folded and hidden under the thickness of 
 the broad sash that girded her tunic at the waist. 
 
 " Go thou," said the queen, " and seek out the high 
 priest Zoroaster, and bring him hither quickly." 
 
 The black woman turned and ran like a deer down 
 the narrow path, disappearing in a moment amongst 
 the shrubbery. 
 
 The breeze of the swinging fan blew softly on 
 Nehushta's pale face and stirred the locks of heavy 
 hair that fell from her tiara about her shoulders. 
 Her eyes were half closed as she leaned back, and 
 her lips were parted .in a weary look of weakness that 
 was new to her. Nearly an hour passed and the sun 
 sank low, but Nehushta hardly stirred from her 
 position. 
 
 It seemed very long before she heard steps upon 
 the walk the quick soft step of the slave-woman 
 running before, barefooted and fleet, and presently 
 the heavier tread of a man's leather shoe. The slave 
 stopped at the entrance to the little circle of rose- 
 trees, and a moment later, Zoroaster strode forward, 
 and stood still and made a deep obeisance, a few 
 steps from Nehushta. 
 
 " Forgive me that I sent for thee, Zoroaster," said 
 the queen in quiet tones. But, as she spoke, a slight 
 blush overspread her face, and relieved her deadly 
 pallor. '* Forgive me I have somewhat to say 
 which thou must hear." 
 
 Zoroaster remained standing before her as she 
 spoke, and his luminous eyes rested upon her quietly. 
 
 " I wronged thee three years ago, Zoroaster," said 
 
240 ZOROASTER. 
 
 the queen in a low voice, but looking up at him. "I 
 pray thee, forgive me I knew not what I did." 
 
 "I forgave thee long ago," answered the high 
 priest. 
 
 " I did thee a bitter wrong but the wrong I did 
 myself was even greater. I never knew till I went 
 and asked her ! " At the thought of Atossa, the 
 Hebrew woman's eyes flashed fire, and her small 
 fingers clenched upon her palm. But, in an instant, 
 her sad, weary look returned. 
 
 " That is all if you forgive me," she said, and 
 turned her head away. It seemed to her that there 
 was nothing more to be said. He did not love her 
 he was far beyond love. 
 
 " Now, by Ahura Mazda, I have indeed forgiven 
 thee. The blessing of the All- Wise be upon thee ! " 
 Zoroaster bent again, as though to take his leave, and 
 he would have gone from her. 
 
 But when she heard his first footsteps, Nehushta 
 raised herself a little and turned quickly towards 
 him. It seemed as though the only light she knew 
 were departing from her day. 
 
 " You loved me once," she said, and stopped, with 
 an appealing look on her pale face. It was very weak 
 of her ; but oh ! she was far spent with sorrow and 
 grief. Zoroaster paused, and looked back upon her, 
 very calmly, very gently. 
 
 " Ay I loved you once but not now. There 
 is no more love in the earth for me. But I bless you 
 for the love you gave me." 
 
 " I loved you so well," said Nehushta. " I love 
 you still," she added, suddenly raising herself and 
 
ZOROASTER. 241 
 
 gazing on him with a wild look in her eyes. " Oh, 
 I love you still ! " she cried passionately. " I thought 
 I had put you away forgotten you trodden out 
 your memory that I so hated I could not bear to hear 
 your name ! Ah ! why did I do it, miserable woman 
 that I am ! I love you now I love you I love 
 you with my whole heart and it is too late I " She 
 fell back upon her cushion, and covered her face with 
 her hands, and her breast heaved with passionate, 
 tearless sobbing. 
 
 Zoroaster stood still, and a deep melancholy came 
 over his beautiful, ethereal face. No regret stirred 
 his breast, no touch of the love that had been waked 
 his heart that slept for ever in the peace of the 
 higher life. He would not have changed from him 
 self to the young lover of three years ago, if he had 
 been able. But he stood calm and sorrowful, as an 
 angel from heaven gazing on the grief of the world 
 his thoughts full of sympathy for the pains of 
 men, his soul still breathing the painless peace of 
 the outer firmament whence he had come and whither 
 he would return. 
 
 "Nehushta," he said at last, seeing that her sobbing 
 did not cease, " it is not meet that you should thus 
 weep for anything that is past. Be comforted; the 
 years of life are few, and you are one of the great ones 
 of the earth. It is needful that all should suffer. 
 Forget not that although your heart be heavy, you 
 are a queen, and must bear yourself as a queen. 
 Take your life strongly in your hands and live it. 
 The end is not far and your peace is at hand." 
 
 Nehushta looked up suddenly and grew very grave 
 
242 ZOROASTER. 
 
 as he spoke. Her heavy eyes rested on his, and she 
 sighed but the sigh was still broken by the trem 
 bling of her past sobs. 
 
 " You, who are a priest and a prophet," she said, 
 "you, who read the heaven as it were a book telj 
 me, Zoroaster, is it not far ? Shall we meet beyond 
 the stars, as you used to tell me so long ago ? " 
 
 " It is not far," he answered, and a gentle smile 
 illuminated his pale face. "Take courage for truly 
 it is not far." 
 
 He gazed into her eyes for a moment, and it 
 seemed as though some of that steadfast light pene 
 trated into her soul, for as he turned and went his 
 way among the roses, a look of peace descended on 
 her tired face, and she fell back upon her cushion 
 and closed her eyes, and let the breeze of the palm- 
 fan play over her wan cheeks and through her heavy 
 hair. 
 
 But Zoroaster returned into the palace, and he was 
 very thoughtful. He had many duties to perform, 
 besides the daily evening sacrifice in the temple, for 
 Darius consulted him constantly upon many matters 
 connected with the state ; and on every occasion 
 Zoroaster's keen foresight and knowledge of men 
 found constant exercise in the development of the 
 laws and statutes Darius was forming for his consoli 
 dated kingdom. First of all, the question of religion 
 seemed to him of paramount importance ; and here 
 Zoroaster displayed all his great powers of organisa 
 tion, as well as the true and just ideas he held upon 
 the subject. Himself an ascetic mystic, he foresaw 
 the danger to others of attempting to pursue the 
 
ZOROASTER. 243 
 
 same course, or even of founding a system of mystical 
 study. The object of mankind must be the welfare 
 of mankind, and a set of priests who should shut 
 themselves off from their fellow-men to pursue eso 
 teric studies and to acquire knowledge beyond the 
 reach of common humanity, must necessarily forget 
 humanity itself in their effort to escape from it. The 
 only possible scheme upon which a religion for the 
 world could be based especially for such a world as 
 the empire of Darius must be one where the broad 
 principle of common good living stood foremost, and 
 where the good of all humanity should be the good 
 of each man's soul. 
 
 The vast influence of Zoroaster's name grew day 
 by day, as from the palace of Stakhar he sent forth 
 priests to the various provinces, full of his own ideas, 
 bearing with them a simple form of worship and a 
 rigid rule of life, which the iron laws of Darius began 
 at once to enforce to the letter. The vast body of 
 existing hymns, of which many were by no means 
 distinctly Mazdayashnian, were reduced to a limited 
 number containing the best and purest; and the 
 multifarious mass of conflicting caste practices, partly 
 imported from India, and partly inherited by the 
 pure Persians from the Aryan home in Sogdiana, was 
 simplified and reduced to a plain rule. The endless 
 rules of purification were cut down to simple meas 
 ures of health ; the varying practices in regard to the 
 disposal of the dead were all done away with by a 
 great royal edict commanding the building of Dakh- 
 mas, or towers of death, all over the kingdom ; within 
 which the dead were laid by persons appointed for 
 
244 ZOKOASTEB. 
 
 the purpose, and which were cleansed by them, at 
 stated intervals. Severe measures were taken to pre 
 vent the destruction of cattle, for there were evident 
 signs of the decrease, of the beasts of the field in con 
 sequence of the many internal wars that had waged 
 of late ; and special laws were provided for the safety 
 of dogs, which were regarded, for all reasons, as the 
 most valuable companions of men in those times, as a 
 means of protection to the flocks in the wilderness, 
 and as the scavengers and cleansers of the great 
 cities. Human life was protected by the most rigor 
 ous laws, and the utmost attention was given to pro 
 viding for the treatment of women of all classes. It 
 would have been impossible to conceive a system bet 
 ter fitted to develop the resources of a semi-pastoral 
 country, to preserve peace and to provide for the in 
 creasing wants and the public health of a multiplying 
 people. 
 
 As for the religious rites, they assumed a form and 
 a character which made them seem like simplicity 
 itself by the side of the former systems ; and which, 
 although somewhat complicated by the additions and 
 alterations of a later and more superstitious genera 
 tion, have still maintained the noble and honourable 
 characteristics imparted to them by the great reformer 
 and compiler of the Mazdayashnian religion. 
 
 The days flew quickly by, and Zoroaster's power 
 grew apace. It was as though the whole court and 
 kingdom had been but waiting for him to come and 
 be the representative of wisdom and justice beside 
 the conquering king, who had in so short a time 
 reduced so many revolutions and fought so many 
 
ZOROASTER. 245 
 
 fields in the consolidation of his empire. Zoroaster 
 laid hold of all the existing difficulties with a master- 
 hand. His years of retirement seemed to have given 
 him the accumulated force of many men, and the 
 effect of his wise measures was quickly felt in every 
 quarter of the provinces ; while his words went forth 
 like fire in the mouths of the priests he sent from 
 Stakhar. He had that strange and rare gift, whereby 
 a man inspires in his followers the profoundest con 
 fidence and the greatest energy to the performance 
 of his will. He would have overthrown a world had 
 he found himself resisted and oppressed, but every 
 one of his statutes and utterances was backed by the 
 royal arms and enforced by decrees against which 
 there was no appeal. In a few months his name was 
 spoken wherever the Persian rule was felt, and spoken 
 everywhere with a high reverence ; in which there 
 was no fear mixed, such as people felt when they 
 mentioned the Great King, and added quickly: 
 " May he live for ever ! " 
 
 In a few months the reform was complete, and the 
 half-clad ascetic had risen by his own wisdom and by 
 the power of circumstances into the chiefest position 
 in all Persia. Loaded with dignities, treated as the 
 next to the Great King in all things, wearing the 
 royal chain of office over his white priest's robes, and 
 sitting at the right hand of Darius at the feast, Zoro 
 aster nevertheless excited no envy among the cour 
 tiers, nor encroached in any way upon their privileges. 
 The few men whom Darius trusted were indeed rarely 
 at Stakhar, the princes who had conspired against 
 Smerdis, and Hydarnes and a few of the chief officers 
 
246 ZOROASTER. 
 
 of the army, they were mostly in the various prov 
 inces, in command of troops and fortresses, actively 
 employed in enforcing the measures the king was 
 framing with Zoroaster, and which were to work such 
 great changes in the destinies of the empire. But 
 when any of the princes or generals were summoned 
 to the court by the king and learned to know what 
 manner of man this Zoroaster was, they began to 
 love him and to honour him also, as all those did 
 who were near him. And they went away, saying 
 that never king had so wise and just a counsellor as 
 he was, nor one so worthy of trust in the smallest as 
 in the greatest things. 
 
 But the two queens watched him, and watched his 
 growing power, with different feelings. Nehushta 
 scarcely ever spoke to him, but gazed at him from 
 her sad eyes when none saw her ; pondering over his 
 prophecy that foretold the end so near at hand. She 
 had a pride in seeing her old lover the strongest in 
 the whole land, holding the destinies of the kingdom 
 as in a balance ; and it was a secret consolation to 
 her to know that he had been faithful to her after 
 all, and that it was for her sake that he had with 
 drawn into the desert and given himself to those 
 meditations from which he had only issued to enjoy 
 the highest power. And as she looked at him, she 
 saw how he was much changed, and it hardly seemed 
 as though in his body he were the same man she had 
 so loved. Only when he spoke, and she heard the 
 even, musical tones of his commanding voice, she 
 sometimes felt the blood rise to her cheeks with the 
 longing to hear once more some word of tender love, 
 
ZOROASTER. 247 
 
 such as he had been used to speak to her. But 
 though he often looked at her and greeted her ever 
 kindly, his quiet, luminous eyes changed not when 
 they gazed on her, nor was there any warmer touch 
 of colour in the waxen whiteness of his face. His 
 youth was utterly gone, as the golden light had 
 faded from his hair. He was not like an old man 
 he was hardly like a man at all; but rather like 
 some beautiful, strange angel from another world, 
 who moved among men and spoke with them, but 
 was not of them. She seemed to look upon a mem 
 ory, to love the shadow cast on earth by a being that 
 was gone. But she loved the memory and the 
 shadow well, and month by month, as she gazed, she 
 grew more wan and weary. 
 
 It would not have been like Darius to take any 
 notice of a trouble that did not present itself palpa 
 bly before him and demand his attention. Nehushta 
 scarcely ever spoke of Zoroaster, and when the king 
 mentioned him to her, it was always in connection 
 with affairs of state. She seemed cold and indiffer 
 ent, and the hot-blooded soldier monarch no longer 
 looked on Zoroaster as a possible rival. He had 
 white hair he was therefore an old man, out of all 
 questions of love. But Darius was glad that the 
 Hebrew queen never referred to former times, nor 
 ever seemed to regret her old lover. Had he known 
 of that night meeting in Atossa's toilet chamber, and 
 of what Atossa had said then, his fury would prob 
 ably have had no bounds. But he never knew. 
 Nehushta was too utterly broken-hearted by the blow 
 she had received to desire vengeance, and though she 
 
248 ZOROASTER. 
 
 quietly scorned all intercourse with the woman who 
 had injured her, she cared not to tell the king of the 
 injury. It was too late. Had she known of the 
 cruel deception that had been practised on her, one 
 hour before she had married Darius, Atossa would 
 have been in her grave these three years, and 
 Nehushta would not have been queen. But the king 
 knew none of these things, and rejoiced daily in the 
 wisdom of his chief counsellor and in the favour 
 Auramazda had shown in sending him such a man in 
 his need. 
 
 Meanwhile, Atossa's hatred grew apace. She saw 
 with anger that her power of tormenting Nehushta 
 was gone from her, that the spirit she had loved to 
 torture was broken beyond all sensibility, and that 
 the man who had scorned her love was grown greater 
 than she. Against his wisdom and the king's 
 activity, she could do little, and her strength seemed 
 to spend itself in vain. Darius laughed mercilessly 
 at her cunning objections to Zoroaster's reforms ; and 
 Zoroaster himself eyed her coldly, and passed her by 
 in silence when they met. 
 
 She bethought herself of some scheme whereby to 
 destroy Zoroaster's power by a sudden and violent 
 shock; and for a time, she affected a more than 
 usual serenity of manner, and her smile was sweeter 
 than ever. If it were possible, she thought, to 
 attract the king's attention and forces to some dis 
 tant point, it would not be a difficult matter to pro 
 duce a sudden rising or disturbance in Stakhar, sit 
 uated as the plac3 was upon the very extreme border 
 of the kingdom, within a few hours' march across the 
 
ZOROASTER. 249 
 
 hills from the uncivilised desert country, which was 
 infested at that time with hostile and turbulent 
 tribes. She had a certain number of faithful re 
 tainers at her command still, whom she could employ 
 as emissaries in both directions, and in spite of the 
 scene that had taken place at Shushan when Phraor- 
 tes was brought to her by the king, she knew she 
 could still command his services for a revolution. 
 He was a Magian at heart, and hated the existing 
 monarchy. He was rich and powerful, and un 
 boundedly vain he could easily be prevailed upon 
 to accept the principality of Media as a reward for 
 helping to destroy the Persian kingdom ; and indeed 
 the matter had been discussed between him and the 
 queen long ago. 
 
 Atossa revolved her scheme in her mind most care 
 fully for two whole months, and at last she resolved 
 to act. Eluding all vigilance of the king, and laugh 
 ing to herself at the folly of Darius and Zoroaster in 
 allowing her such liberty, she succeeded without much 
 trouble in despatching a letter to Phraortes, inquiring 
 whether her affairs were now in such a prosperous 
 condition as to admit of their being extended. 
 
 On the other hand, she sent a black slave she 
 owned, with gifts, into the country of the barbarian 
 tribes beyond the hills, to discover whether they 
 could be easily tempted. This man she bribed with 
 the promise of freedom and rich possessions, to un 
 dertake the dangerous mission. She knew him to be 
 faithful, and able to perform the part he was to play. 
 
 In less than two months Phraortes sent a reply, 
 wherein he stated that the queen's affairs were so 
 
250 ZOROASTER. 
 
 prosperous that they might with safety be extended 
 as she desired, and that he was ready to undertake 
 any improvements provided she sent him the neces 
 sary directions and instructions. 
 
 The slave returned from the land of the dwellers 
 in tents, with the information that they were -numer 
 ous as the sands of the sea, riding like the whirlwinds 
 across the desert, keen as a race of eagles for prey, 
 devouring as locusts spreading over a field of corn, 
 and greedy as jackals upon the track of a wounded 
 antelope. Nothing but the terror of the Great King's 
 name restrained them within their boundaries ; which 
 they would leave at a moment's notice, as allies of 
 any one who would pay them. They dwelt mostly 
 beyond the desert to eastward in the low hill coun 
 try; and they shaved their beards and slept with 
 their horses in their tents. They were more horrible 
 to look upon than the devils of the mountains, and 
 fiercer than wolves upon the mountain paths. 
 
 Allowing for the imagery of her slave's account, 
 Atossa comprehended that the people described could 
 be easily excited to make a hostile descent upon the 
 southern part of the kingdom, and notably upon the 
 unprotected region about Stakhar, where the fortress 
 could afford shelter to a handful of troops and fugi 
 tives, but could in no wise defend the whole of the 
 fertile district from a hostile incursion. 
 
 Atossa spent much time in calculating the distance 
 from the palace to the fortress, and she came to the 
 conclusion that a body of persons moving with some 
 encumbrance might easily reach the stronghold in 
 half a day. Her plan was a simple one, and easy of 
 
ZOROASTER. 251 
 
 execution ; though there was no limit to the evil re 
 sults its success might have upon the kingdom. 
 
 She intended that a revolution should break out in 
 Media, not under the leadership of Phraortes, lest she 
 herself should perish, having been already suspected 
 of complicity with him. But a man could be found 
 some tool of her powerful agent, who could be 
 readily induced to set himself up as a pretender to 
 the principality of the province, and he could easily 
 be crushed at a later period by Phraortes, who would 
 naturally furnish the money and supplies for the 
 insurrection. 
 
 As soon as the news reached Stakhar, Darius would, 
 in all probability, set out for Media in haste to arrive 
 at the scene of the disturbance. He would probably 
 leave Zoroaster behind to manage the affairs of state, 
 which had centred in Stakhar during the last year 
 and more. If, however, he took him with him, and 
 left the court to follow on as far as Shushan, Atossa 
 could easily cause an incursion of the barbarous tribes 
 from the desert. The people of the south would find 
 themselves abandoned by the king, and would rise 
 against him, and Atossa could easily seize the power. 
 If Zoroaster remained behind, the best plan would be 
 to let the barbarians take their own course and 
 destroy him. Separated from any armed force of 
 magnitude sufficient to cope with a sudden invasion, 
 he would surely fall in the struggle, or take refuge 
 in an ignominious flight. With the boldness of her 
 nature, Atossa trusted to circumstances to provide 
 her with an easy escape for herself ; and in the last 
 
 instance, she trusted, as she had ever done, to her 
 Vol. 6 Y 
 
252 ZOROASTER. 
 
 marvellous beauty to save her from harm. To her 
 beauty alone she owed her escape from many a fit of 
 murderous anger in the time of Cambyses, and to her 
 beauty she owed her salvation when Darius found 
 her at Shushan, the wife and accomplice of the 
 impostor Smerdis. She might again save herself by 
 that means, if by no other, should she, by any mis 
 chance, fall into the hands of the barbarians. But 
 she was determined to overthrow Zoroaster, even if 
 she had to destroy her husband's kingdom in the 
 effort. It was a bold and simple plan, and she 
 doubted not of being successful. 
 
 During the months while she was planning these 
 things, she was very calm and placid ; her eyes met 
 Zoroaster's with a frank and friendly glance that 
 would have disarmed one less completely convinced 
 of her badness ; and her smile never failed the king 
 when he looked for it. She bore his jests with un 
 failing equanimity and gentleness, for she felt that 
 she should not have to bear them long. Even to 
 Nehushta she gave an occasional glance as though of 
 hurt sympathy a look that seemed to say to the 
 world that she regretted the Hebrew queen's sullen 
 temper and moody ways, so different from her own, 
 but regarded them all the while as the outward mani 
 festation of some sickness, for which she was to be 
 pitied rather than blamed. 
 
 But, as the time sped, her heart grew more and 
 more glad, for the end was at hand, and there was a 
 smell of death in the air of the sweet rose-valley. 
 
ZOROASTER. 263 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 ONCE more the spring months had come, and the 
 fields grew green and the trees put forth their leaves. 
 Four years had passed since Daniel had died in 
 Ecbatana, leaving his legacy of wisdom to Zoroaster ; 
 and almost a year had gone by since Zoroaster had 
 returned to the court at Stakhar, The time had 
 sped very swiftly, except for Nehushta, whose life 
 was heavy with a great weariness and her eyes hol 
 low with suffering sleeplessness. She was not always 
 the same, saving that she was always unhappy. There 
 were days when she was resigned to her lot and 
 merely hoped that it would soon be over; and she 
 wondered how it was that she did not slip out of the 
 gardens at evening, and go and sink her care and her 
 great sorrow in the cool waves of the Araxes, far down 
 below. But then the thought came over her that she 
 must see his face once more ; and it was always once 
 more, so that the last time never came. And again, 
 there were days when she hoped all things, madly, 
 indiscriminately, without sequence the king might 
 die, Zoroaster might again love her, all might be well. 
 But the mood of a hope that is senseless is very fleet, 
 and despair follows close in its footsteps. Nehushta 
 grew each time more sad, as she grew more certain 
 that for her there was no hope. 
 
 At least it seemed as though Atossa had given up 
 
254 ZOROASTEK. ' 
 
 loving Zoroaster and thought no more of him than of 
 another. Indeed Atossa seemed more anxious to please 
 the king than formerly, in proportion as Darius seemed 
 less easily pleased by her. But over all, Zoroaster's 
 supremacy was felt in the palace, and though he was 
 never known to be angry with any one, he was more 
 feared than the fierce king himself, for his calm clear 
 eyes were hard to meet and the words that fell from 
 his lips had in them the ring of fate, Moreover, he 
 was known and his power was dreaded from one end 
 of the kingdom to the other, and his name was like the 
 king's signet, which sealed all things, and there was no 
 appeal. 
 
 Upon a fair morning in the spring-time, when the 
 sun was shining outside upon the roses still wet with 
 dew, the king sat in an inner hall, half lying upon a 
 broad couch, on which the warm rays of the sun fell 
 through an upper window. He was watching with 
 absorbed attention the tricks of an Indian juggler who 
 had lately arrived at the court, and whom he had 
 summoned that morning to amuse a leisure hour, for 
 when the king was not actively engaged in business, 
 or fighting, he loved some amusement, being of a 
 restless temper and mind that needed constant occu 
 pation. 
 
 Atossa sat near him, upon a carved chair, turning 
 over and over in her fingers a string of pearls as she 
 gazed at the performances of the juggler. Two spear 
 men, clad in blue and scarlet and gold, stood motion 
 less by the door, and Darius and Atossa watched the 
 sleight-handed Indian alone. 
 
 The man tossed a knife into the air and caught it, 
 
ZOROASTER. 255 
 
 then two, then three, increasing the number in rapid 
 succession till a score of bright blades made a shining 
 circle in the air as he quickly tossed them up and 
 passed them from hand to hand and tossed them again. 
 Darius laughed at the man's skill, and looked up at 
 the queen. 
 
 " You remind me of that fellow," said Darius. 
 
 " The king is very gracious to his handmaiden," 
 answered Atossa, smiling, " I think I am less skilful, 
 but more fair." 
 
 "You are fairer, it is true," returned the king; 
 " but as for your skill, I know not. You seem always 
 to be playing with knives, but you never wound your 
 self any more than he does." 
 
 The queen looked keenly at Darius, but her lips 
 smiled gently. The thought crossed her mind that 
 the king perhaps knew something of what had passed 
 between her and Nehushta nearly a year before, with 
 regard to a certain Indian dagger. The knives the 
 juggler tossed in the air reminded her of it by their 
 shape. But the king laughed gaily and she answered 
 without hesitation : 
 
 " I would it were true, for then I could be not only 
 the king's wife, but the king's juggler ! " 
 
 "I meant not so," laughed Darius. "The two 
 would hardly suit one another." 
 
 " And yet, I need more skill than this Indian fel 
 low, to be the king's wife," answered the queen 
 slowly. 
 
 " Said I not so ? " 
 
 "Nay but you meant not so," replied Atossa, 
 looking down. 
 
256 ZOROASTER. 
 
 " What I say, I mean," he returned. " You need 
 all the fairness of your face to conceal the evil in 
 your heart, as this man needs all his skill in hand 
 ling those sharp knives, that would cut off his fin 
 gers if, unawares, he touched the wrong edge of 
 them." 
 
 " I conceal nothing," said the queen, with a light 
 laugh. " The king has a thousand eyes how should 
 I conceal anything from him ? " 
 
 " That is a question which I constantly ask my 
 self," answered Darius. " And yet, I often think I 
 know your thoughts less well than those of the black 
 girl who fans you when you are hot, and whose atten 
 tion is honestly concentrated upon keeping the flies 
 from your face or of yonder stolid spearmen at 
 the door, who watch us, and honestly wish they were 
 kings and queens, to lie all day upon a silken couch, 
 and watch the tricks of a paid conjurer." 
 
 As Darius spoke, the guards he glanced at turned 
 suddenly and faced each other, standing on each side 
 of the doorway, and brought their heavy spears to 
 the ground with a ringing noise. In a moment the 
 tall, thin figure of Zoroaster, in his white robes, 
 appeared between them. He stopped respectfully at 
 the threshold, waiting for the king to notice him, for, 
 in spite of his power and high rank, he chose to main 
 tain rigidly the formalities of the court. 
 
 Darius made a sign and the juggler caught his 
 whirling knives, one after the other, and thrust them 
 into his bag, and withdrew. 
 
 " Hail, Zoroaster ! " said the king. " Come near 
 and sit beside me, and tell me your business." 
 
ZOROASTER. 267 
 
 Zoroaster came forward and made a salutation, but 
 he remained standing, as though the matter on which 
 he came were urgent. 
 
 " Hail, king, and live for ever ! " he said. " I am a 
 bearer of evil news. A rider has come speeding from 
 Ecbatana, escaped from the confusion. Media has 
 revolted, and the king's guards are besieged within 
 the fortress of Ecbatana." 
 
 Darius sat upright upon the edge of his couch ; the 
 knotted veins upon his temples swelled with sudden 
 anger and his brow flushed darkly. 
 
 " Doubtless it is Phraortes who has set himself up 
 as king," he said. Then, suddenly and fiercely, he 
 turned upon Atossa. " Now is your hour come," he 
 cried in uncontrollable anger. " You shall surely die 
 this day, for you have done this, and the powers of 
 evil shall have your soul, which is of them, and of 
 none other." 
 
 Atossa, for the first time in her whole life, turned 
 pale to the lips and trembled, for she already seemed 
 to taste death in the air. But even then, her bold 
 ness did not desert her, and she rose to her feet with 
 a stateliness and a calmness that almost awed the 
 king's anger to silence. 
 
 " Slay me if thou wilt," she said in a low voice, but 
 firmly. "I am innocent of this deed." The great 
 lie fell from her lips with a calmness that a martyr 
 might have envied. But Zoroaster stepped between 
 her and the king. As he passed her, his clear, calm 
 eyes met hers for a moment. He read in her face the 
 fear of death, and he pitied her. 
 
 "Let the king hear me," he said. "It is not 
 
258 ZOROASTER. 
 
 Phraortes who has headed the revolt, and it is told 
 me that Phraortes has fled from Ecbatana. Let the 
 king send forth his armies and subdue the rebels, and 
 let this woman go ; for the fear of death is upon her 
 and it may be that she has not sinned in this matter. 
 And if she have indeed sinned, will the king make 
 war upon women, or redden his hands with the blood 
 of his own wife ? " 
 
 " You speak as a priest I feel as a man," re 
 turned the king, savagely. " This woman has de 
 served death many times let her die. So shall we 
 be free of her." 
 
 " It is not lawful to do this thing," returned Zoro 
 aster coldly, and his glance rested upon the angry 
 face of Darius, as he spoke, and seemed to subdue his 
 furious wrath. " The king cannot know whether 
 she have deserved death or not, until he have the 
 rebels of Ecbatana before him. Moreover, the blood 
 of a woman is a perpetual shame to the man who has 
 shed it." 
 
 The king seemed to waver, and Atossa, who watched 
 him keenly, understood that the moment had come in 
 which she might herself make an appeal to him. In 
 the suddenness of the situation she had time to ask 
 herself why Zoroaster, whom she had so bitterly in 
 jured, should intercede for her. She could not under 
 stand his nobility of soul, and she feared some trap, 
 into which she should fall by and by. But, mean 
 while, she chose to appeal to the king's mercy her 
 self, lest she should feel that she owed her preserva 
 tion wholly to Zoroaster. It was a bold thought, 
 worthy of a woman of her strength, in a moment of 
 supreme danger. 
 
ZOROASTER. 259 
 
 With a quick movement she tore the tiara from 
 her head and let it fall upon the floor. The mass of 
 her silken hair fell all about her like a vesture of 
 gold, and she threw herself at the king's feet, em 
 bracing his knees with a passionate gesture of appeal. 
 Her face was very pale, and the beauty of it seemed 
 to grow by the unnatural lack of colour, while her 
 soft blue eyes looked up into the king's face with 
 such an expression of imploring supplication that he 
 was fain to acknowledge to himself that she moved 
 his heart, for she had never looked so fair before. 
 She spoke no word, but held his knees, and as she 
 gazed, two beautiful great tears rolled slowly from 
 under her eyelids, and trembled upon her pale, soft 
 cheeks, and her warm, quick breath went up to his face. 
 
 Darius tried to push her from him, but she would 
 not go, and he was forced to look at her, and his anger 
 melted, and he smiled somewhat grimly, though his 
 brows were bent. 
 
 " Go to," he said, " I jested. It is impossible for a 
 man to slay anything so beautiful as you." 
 
 Atossa's colour returned to her cheeks, and bend 
 ing down, she kissed the king's knees and his hands, 
 and her golden hair fell all about her and upon the 
 king's lap. But Darius rose impatiently, and left her 
 kneeling by the couch. He was already angry with 
 himself for having forgiven her, and he hated his own 
 weakness bitterly. 
 
 "I will myself go hence at once with the guards, 
 and I will take half the force from the fortress of 
 Stakhar and go to Shushan, and thence, with the army 
 that is there, I will be in Ecbatana in a few days. 
 
260 ZOROASTER. 
 
 And I will utterly crush out these rebels who speak 
 lies and do not acknowledge me. Remain here, Zoro 
 aster, and govern this province until I return in 
 triumph." 
 
 Darius glanced once more at Atossa, who lay by 
 the couch, half upon it and half upon the floor, seem 
 ingly dazed at what had occurred ; and then he turned 
 upon his heel and strode out of the room between the 
 two spearmen of the guard, who raised their weapons 
 as he passed, and followed him with a quick, rhyth 
 mical tread down the broad corridor outside. 
 
 Zoroaster was left alone with the queen. 
 
 As soon as Darius was gone, Atossa rose to her 
 feet, and with all possible calmness proceeded to re 
 arrange her disordered hair and to place her head-dress 
 upon her head. Zoroaster stood and watched her ; 
 her hand trembled a little, but she seemed otherwise 
 unmoved by what had occurred. She glanced up at 
 him from under her eyelids as she stood with her head 
 bent down and her hands raised, to arrange her hair. 
 
 " Why did you beg the king to spare my life ? " she 
 asked. " You, of all men, must wish me dead." 
 
 " I do not wish you dead," he^answered coldly. 
 " You have yet much evil to do in the world, but it 
 will not be all evil. Neither did I need to intercede 
 for you. Your time is not come, and though the king's 
 hand were raised to strike you, it would not fall upon 
 you, for you are fated to accomplish many things." 
 
 " Do you not hate me, Zoroaster ? " 
 
 It was one of the queen's chief characteristics that 
 she never attempted concealment when it could be of 
 no use, and in such cases affected an almost brutal 
 
ZOROASTER. 261 
 
 frankness. She almost laughed as she asked the 
 question it seemed so foolish, and yet she asked it. 
 
 " I do not hate you," answered the priest. " You 
 are beneath hatred." 
 
 " And I presume you are far above it ? " she said 
 very scornfully, and eyed him in silence for a moment. 
 " You are a poor creature," she pursued, presently. 
 " I heartily despise you. You suffered yourself to be 
 deceived by a mere trick; you let the woman you 
 loved go from you without an effort to keep her. You 
 might have been a queen's lover, and you despised 
 her. And now, when you could have the woman who 
 did you a mortal injury be led forth to death before 
 your eyes, you interceded for her and saved her life. 
 You are a fool. I despise you." 
 
 " I rejoice that you do," returned Zoroaster coldly. 
 "I would not have your admiration, if I might be 
 paid for receiving it with the whole world and the 
 wisdom thereof." 
 
 "Not even if you might have for your wife the 
 woman you loved in your poor, insipid way but you 
 loved her nevertheless ? She is pale and sorrowful, 
 poor creature ; she haunts the gardens like the shadow 
 of death; she wearies the king with her wan face. 
 She is eating her heart out for you the king took 
 her from you, you could take her from him to-morrow, 
 if you pleased. The greater your folly, because you 
 do not. As for her, her foolishness is such that she 
 would follow you to the ends of the earth poor 
 girl ! she little knows what a pale, wretched, sapless 
 thing you have in your breast for a heart." 
 
 But Zoroaster gazed calmly at the queen in quiet 
 scorn at her scoffing. 
 
262 ZOROASTER. 
 
 " Think you that the sun is obscured, because you 
 can draw yonder curtain before your window and 
 keep out his rays?" he asked. " Think you that the 
 children of light feel pain because the children of 
 darkness say in their ignorance that there is no 
 light?" 
 
 " You speak in parables having nothing plain to 
 say," returned the queen, thrusting a golden pin 
 through her hair at the back and through the folds 
 of her linen tiara. But she felt Zoroaster's eyes upon 
 her, and looking up, she was fascinated by the strange 
 light in them. She strove to look away from him, 
 but could not. Suddenly her heart sank within her. 
 She had heard of Indian charmers and of Chaldean 
 necromancers and wise men, who could perform 
 wonders and slay their enemies with a glance. She 
 struggled to take her eyes from his, but it was of no 
 use. The subtle power of the universal agent had 
 got hold upon her, and she was riveted to the spot so 
 long as he kept his eyes upon her. He spoke again, 
 and his voice seemed to come to her with a deafening 
 metallic force, as though it vibrated to her very brain. 
 
 " You may scoff at me ; shield yourself from me, if 
 you can," said Zoroaster. " Lift one hand, if you are 
 able make one step from me, if you have the 
 strength. You cannot; you are altogether in my 
 power. If I would, I could kill you as you stand, 
 and there would be no mark of violence upon you, 
 that a man should be able to say you were slain. 
 You boast of your strength and power. See, you 
 follow the motion of my hand, as a dog would. See, 
 you kneel before me, and prostrate yourself in the 
 
ZOROASTER. 263 
 
 dust at my feet, at my bidding. Lie there, and think 
 well whether you are able to scoff any more. You 
 kneeled to the king of your own will ; you kneel to 
 me at mine, and though you had the strength of a 
 hundred men, you must kneel there till I bid you 
 rise." 
 
 The queen was wholly under the influence of the 
 terrible power Zoroaster possessed. She was no more 
 able to resist his will than a drowning man can resist 
 the swift torrent that bears him down to his death. 
 She lay at the priest's feet, helpless and nerveless. 
 He gazed at her for a moment as she crouched before 
 him. 
 
 " Rise," he said, " go your way, and remember me." 
 
 Relieved from the force of the subtle influence he 
 projected, Atossa sprang to her feet and staggered 
 back a few paces, till she fell upon the couch. 
 
 " What manner of man art thou ? " she said, staring 
 wildly before her, as though recovering from some 
 heavy blow that had stunned her. 
 
 But she saw Zoroaster's white robes disappear 
 through the door, even while the words were on her 
 lips, and she sank back in stupefaction upon the 
 cushions of the couch. 
 
 Meanwhile the trumpets sounded in the courts of 
 the palace and the guards were marshalled out at the 
 king's command. Messengers mounted and rode 
 furiously up the valley to the fortress, to warn the 
 troops there to make ready for the march ; and before 
 the sun reached the meridian, Darius was on horse 
 back, in his armour, at the foot of the great staircase. 
 The blazing noonday light shone upon his polished 
 
264 ZOROASTER. 
 
 helmet and on the golden wings that stood out on 
 either side of it, and the hot rays were sent flashing 
 back from his gilded harness, and from the broad 
 scales of his horse's armour. 
 
 The slaves of the palace stood in long ranks before 
 the columns of the portico and upon the broad stairs 
 on each side, and Zoroaster stood on the lowest step, 
 attended by a score of his priests, to receive the king's 
 last instructions. 
 
 " I go forth, and in two months I will return in 
 triumph," said Darius. " Meanwhile keep thou the 
 government in thy hand, and let not the laws be 
 relaxed because the king is not here. Let the sacri 
 fice be performed daily in the temple, and let all 
 things proceed as though I myself were present. I 
 will not that petty strifes arise because I am away. 
 There shall be peace peace peace for ever through 
 out my kingdom, though I shed much blood to obtain 
 it. And all the people who are evildoers and makers 
 of strife and sedition shall tremble at the name of 
 Darius, the king of kings, and of Zoroaster, the high 
 priest of the All- Wise. In peace I leave you, to cause 
 peace whither I go; and in peace I will come again 
 to you. Farewell, Zoroaster, truest friend and wisest 
 counsellor ; in thy keeping I leave all things. Take 
 thou the signet and bear it wisely till I come." 
 
 Zoroaster received the royal ring and bowed a low 
 obeisance. Then Darius pressed his knees to his 
 horse's sides and the noble steed sprang forward upon 
 the straight, broad road, like an arrow from a bow. 
 The mounted guards grasped their spears and gath 
 ered their bridles in their hands and followed swiftly, 
 
ZOROASTER. 265 
 
 four and four, shoulder to shoulder, and knee to knee, 
 their bronze cuirasses and polished helmets blazing 
 in the noonday sun and clashing as they galloped on ; 
 and in a moment there was nothing seen of the royal 
 guard but a tossing wave of light far up the valley ; 
 and the white dust, that had risen as they plunged 
 forward, settled slowly in the still, hot air upon the 
 roses and shrubs that hung over the enclosure of the 
 garden at the foot of the broad staircase. 
 
 Zoroaster gazed for a moment on the track of the 
 swift warriors ; then went up the steps, followed by 
 his priests, and entered the palace. 
 
 Atossa and Nehushta had watched the departure of 
 the king from their upper windows, at the opposite 
 ends of the building, from behind the gilded lattices. 
 Atossa had recovered somewhat from the astonish 
 ment and fear that had taken possession of her when 
 she had found herself under Zoroaster's strange 
 influence, and as she saw Darius ride away, while 
 Zoroaster remained standing upon the steps, her 
 courage rose. She resolved that nothing should 
 induce her again to expose herself to the chief 
 priest's unearthly power, and she laughed to herself 
 as she thought that she might yet destroy him, and 
 free herself from him for ever. She wondered how 
 she could ever have given a thought of love to such 
 a man, and she summoned her black slave, and sent 
 him upon his last errand, by which he was to obtain 
 his freedom. 
 
 But Nehushta gazed sadly after the galloping guards, 
 and her eye strove to distinguish the king's crest 
 before the others, till all was mingled in the distance, 
 
266 ZOROASTER. 
 
 in an indiscriminate reflection of moving light, and 
 then lost to view altogether in the rising dust. Whether 
 she loved him truly, or loved him not, he had been 
 true and kind to her, and had rested his dark head 
 upon her shoulder that very morning before he went, 
 and had told her that, of all living women, he loved 
 her best. But she had felt a quick sting of pain in 
 her heart, because she knew that she would give her 
 life to lie for one short hour on Zoroaster's breast and 
 eob out all her sorrow and die. 
 
ZOROASTEE. 267 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 FOUR days after the king's departure, Nehushta was 
 wandering in the gardens as the sun was going down, 
 according to her daily custom. There was a place 
 she loved well a spot where the path widened to a 
 circle, round which the roses grew, thick and fragrant 
 with the breath of the coming summer, and soft green 
 shrubs and climbing things that twisted their tender 
 arms about the myrtle trees. The hedge was so high 
 that it cut off all view of the gardens beyond, and 
 only the black north-western hills could just be seen 
 above the mass of shrubbery ; beyond the mountains 
 and all over the sky, the glow of the setting sun 
 spread like a rosy veil ; and the light tinged the crests 
 of the dark hills and turned the myrtle leaves to a 
 strange colour, and gilded the highest roses to a deep 
 red gold. 
 
 The birds were all singing their evening song in 
 loud, happy chorus, as only Eastern birds can sing ; 
 the air was warm and still, and the tiny gnats chased 
 each other with lightning quickness in hazy swarms 
 overhead, in the reflected glow. 
 
 Nehushta loved the little open space, for it was 
 there that, a year ago, she had sent for Zoroaster to 
 come to her that she might tell him she knew the truth 
 at last. She stood still and listened to the singing of 
 the birds, gazing upwards at the glowing sky, where 
 
268 ZOROASTER. 
 
 the red was fast turning to purple ; she breathed in 
 the warm air and sighed softly ; wishing, as she wished 
 every night, that the sunset might fade to darkness, 
 and there might be no morning for her any more. 
 
 She had lived almost entirely alone since Darius 
 had gone to Shushan ; she avoided Atossa, and she 
 made no effort to see Zoroaster, who was entirely ab 
 sorbed by the management of the affairs of the state. 
 In the king's absence there were no banquets, as 
 there used to be when he was in the palace, and the 
 two queens were free to lead whatever life seemed 
 best to them, independently of each other and of the 
 courtiers. Atossa had chosen to shut herself up in 
 the seclusion of her own apartments, and Nehushta 
 rarely left her own part of the palace until the even 
 ing. But when the sun was low, she loved to linger 
 among the roses in the garden, till the bright shield 
 of the moon was high in the east, or till the faint 
 stars burned in their full splendour, and the nightin 
 gales began to call and trill their melancholy song 
 from end to end of the sweet valley. 
 
 So she stood on this evening, looking up into the 
 sky, and her slaves waited her pleasure at a little 
 distance. But while she gazed, she heard quick steps 
 along the walk, and the slave-women sprang aside to 
 let some one pass. Nehushta turned and found her 
 self face to face with Atossa, who stood before her, 
 wrapped in a dark mantle, a white veil of Indian 
 gauze wound about her head, and half-concealing her 
 face. It was a year since they had met in private, 
 and Nehushta drew herself suddenly to her height, 
 and the old look of scorn came over her dark fea- 
 
ZOROASTER. 269 
 
 tures. She would have asked haughtily what brought 
 Atossa there, but the fair queen was first in her 
 speech. There was hardly even the affectation of 
 friendliness in her tones, as she stood there alone and 
 unattended, facing her enemy. 
 
 " I came to ask if you wished to go with me," said 
 Atossa. 
 
 " Where ? Why should I go with you ? " 
 
 " I am weary of the palace. I think I will go to 
 Shushan to be nearer the king. To-night I will rest 
 at the fortress." 
 
 Nehushta stared coldly at the fair woman, muffled 
 in her cloak and veil. 
 
 " What is it to me whether you go to the ends of 
 the earth, or whether you remain here ? " she asked. 
 
 " I wished to know whether you desired to accom 
 pany me, else I should not have asked you the ques 
 tion. I feared that you might be lonely here in Stak- 
 har will you not come ? " 
 
 " Again I say, why do you ask me ? What have I 
 to do with you?" returned Nehushta, drawing her 
 mantle about her as though to leave Atossa. 
 
 " If the king were here, he would bid you go," said 
 Atossa, looking intently upon her enemy. 
 
 " It is for me to judge what the king would wish 
 me to do not for you. Leave me in peace. Go 
 your way if you will it is nothing to me." 
 
 "You will not come?" Atossa's voice softened 
 and she smiled serenely. Nehushta turned fiercely 
 upon her. 
 
 " No ! If you are going go ! I want you not ! " 
 
 " You are glad I am going, are you not ? " asked 
 Atossa, gently. 
 
270 ZOROASTER. 
 
 "I am glad with a gladness only you can know. 
 I would you were already gone ! " 
 
 " You rejoice that I leave you alone with your 
 lover. It is very natural " 
 
 " My lover ! " cried Nehushta, her wrath rising and 
 blazing in her eyes. 
 
 "Ay, your lover! the thin, white-haired priest, 
 that once was Zoroaster your old lover your 
 poor old lover ! " 
 
 Nehushta steadied herself for a moment. She felt 
 as though she must tear this woman in pieces. But 
 she controlled her anger by a great effort, though she 
 was nearly choking as she drew herself up and 
 answered. 
 
 " I would that the powers of evil, of whom you are, 
 might strangle the thrice-accursed lie in your false 
 throat ! " she said, in low fierce tones, and turned 
 away. 
 
 Still Atossa stood there, smiling as ever. Nehushta 
 looked back as she reached the opposite end of the 
 little plot. 
 
 "Are you not yet gone? Shall I bid my slaves 
 take you by the throat and force you from me?" 
 But, as she spoke, she looked beyond Atossa, and 
 saw that a body of dark men and women stood in the 
 path. Atossa had not come unprotected. 
 
 " I see you are the same foolish woman you ever 
 were," answered the older queen. Just then, a 
 strange sound echoed far off among the hills above, 
 strange and far as the scream of a distant vulture 
 calling its mate to the carrion feast an unearthly 
 cry that rang high in the air from side to side of the 
 
ZOROASTER. 271 
 
 valley, and struck the dark crags and doubled in the 
 echo, and died away in short, faint pulsations of 
 sound upon the startled air. 
 
 Nehushta started slightly. It might have been the 
 cry of a wolf, or of some wild beast prowling upon 
 the heights, but she had never heard such a sound 
 before. But Atossa showed no surprise, and her smile 
 returned to her lips more sweetly than ever those 
 lips that had kissed three kings, and that had never 
 spoken truly a kind or a merciful word to living man, 
 or child, or woman. 
 
 " Farewell, Nehushta," she said, " if you will not 
 come, I will leave you to yourself and to your lover. 
 I daresay he can protect you from harm. Heard you 
 that sound ? It is the cry of your fate. Farewell, 
 foolish girl, and may every undreamed-of quality of 
 evil attend you to your dying day " 
 
 " Go ! " cried Nehushta, turning and pointing to 
 the path with a gesture of terrible anger. Atossa 
 moved back a little. 
 
 " It is no wonder I linger awhile I thought you 
 were past suffering. If I had time, I might yet 
 find some way of tormenting you you are very 
 foolish " 
 
 Nehushta walked rapidly forward upon her, as 
 though to do her some violence with her own hands. 
 But Atossa, as she gave way before the angry Hebrew 
 woman, drew from beneath her mantle the Indian 
 knife she had once taken from her. Nehushta stopped 
 short, as she saw the bright blade thrust out against 
 her bosom. But Atossa held it up one moment, and 
 then threw it down upon the grass at her feet. 
 
272 ZOROASTER. 
 
 " Take it ! " she cried, and in her voice, that had 
 been so sweet and gentle a moment before, there sud 
 denly rang out a strange defiance and a bitter wrath. 
 " Take what is yours I loathe it, for it smells of 
 you and you, and all that is yours, I loathe and 
 hate and scorn ! " 
 
 She turned with a quick movement and disappeared 
 amongst her slaves, who closed in their ranks behind 
 her, and followed her rapidly down the path. Ne- 
 hushta remained standing upon the grass, peering 
 after her retreating enemy through the gloom ; for 
 the glow had faded from the western sky while they 
 had been speaking, and it was now dusk. 
 
 Suddenly, as she stood, almost transfixed with the 
 horror of her fearful anger, that strange cry rang 
 again through the lofty crags and crests of the moun 
 tains, and echoed and died away. 
 
 Nehushta's slave-women, who had hung back in 
 fear and trembling during the altercation between 
 the two queens, came forward and gathered about 
 her. 
 
 " What is it ? " asked the queen in a low voice, for 
 her own heart beat with the anticipation of a sudden 
 danger. "It is the cry of your fate," Atossa had 
 said verily it sounded like the scream of a coming 
 death. 
 
 " It is the Druksh of the mountains ! " said one. 
 
 " It is the howling of wolves," said another, a Me 
 dian woman from the Zagros mountains. 
 
 " The war-cry of the children of Anak is like that," 
 said a little Syrian maid, and her teeth chattered with 
 fear. 
 
ZOROASTER. 271 
 
 As they listened, crouching and pressing about theii 
 royal mistress in their terror, they heard below in the 
 road, the sound of horses and men moving quickly 
 past the foot of the gardens. It was Atossa and her 
 train, hurrying along the highway in the direction of 
 the fortress. 
 
 Nehushta suddenly pushed the slaves aside, and 
 fled down the path towards the palace, and the dark 
 women hurried after. One of them stooped and 
 picked up the Indian knife and hid it in her bosom 
 as she ran. 
 
 The whole truth had flashed across Nehushta's mind 
 in an instant. Some armed force was collecting upon 
 the hills to descend in a body upon the palace, to 
 accomplish her destruction. Atossa had fled to a 
 place of safety, after enjoying the pleasure of tor 
 menting her doomed enemy to the last moment, well 
 knowing that no power would induce Nehushta to 
 accompany her. But one thought filled Nehushta's 
 mind in her instantaneous comprehension of the 
 truth ; she must find Zoroaster, and warn him of the 
 danger. They would have time to fly together, yet. 
 Atossa must have known how to time her flight, since 
 the plot was hers, and she had not yet been many 
 minutes upon the road. 
 
 Through the garden she ran, and up the broad 
 steps to the portico. Slaves were moving about 
 under the colonnade, leisurely lighting the great 
 torches that burned there all night. They had not 
 heard the strange cries from the hills ; or, hearing 
 only a faint echo, had paid no attention to the 
 sound. 
 
274 ZOROASTER. 
 
 Nehushta paused, breathless with running. As 
 she realised the quiet that reigned in the palace, 
 where the slaves went about their duties as though 
 nothing had occurred, or were likely to occur, it 
 seemed to her as though she must have been dream 
 ing. It was impossible that if there were any real 
 danger, it should not have become known at least to 
 some one of the hundreds of slaves who thronged the 
 outer halls and corridors. Moreover there were 
 numerous scribes and officers connected with the 
 government ; some few nobles whom Darius had left 
 behind when he went to Shushan ; there were their 
 wives and families residing in various parts of the 
 palace and in the buildings below it, and there was a 
 strong detachment of Persian guards. If there were 
 danger, some one must have known it. 
 
 She did not know that at that moment the inhabi 
 tants of the lower palace were already alarmed, while 
 some were flying, leaving everything behind, in their 
 haste to reach the fortress higher up the valley. 
 Everything seemed quiet where she was, and she de 
 termined to go alone in search of Zoroaster, without 
 raising any alarm. Just as she entered the doorway 
 of the great hall, she heard the cry again echoing 
 behind her through the valley. It was as much as 
 she could do to control the terror that again took 
 hold of her at the dreaded sound, as she passed the 
 files of bowing slaves, and went in between the two 
 tall spearmen who guarded the inner entrance, and 
 grounded their spears with military precision as she 
 went by. 
 
 She had one slave whom she trusted more than the 
 
ZOROASTER. 275 
 
 rest. It was the little Syrian maid, who was half a 
 Hebrew. 
 
 " Go," she said quickly, in her own tongue. " Go 
 in one direction and I will go in another, and search 
 out Zoroaster, the high priest, and bring him to my 
 chamber. I also will search, but if I find him not, I 
 will wait for thee there." 
 
 The dark girl turned and ran through the halls, 
 swift as a startled fawn, to fulfil her errand, and 
 Nehushta went another way upon her search. She 
 was ashamed to ask for Zoroaster. The words of her 
 enemy were still ringing in her ears " alone with 
 your lover ; " it might be the common talk of the 
 court for all she knew. She went silently on her 
 way. She knew where Zoroaster dwelt. The curtain 
 of his simple chamber was thrown aside and a faint 
 light burned in the room. It was empty ; a scroll 
 lay open upon the floor beside a purple cushion, as 
 he had left it, and his long white mantle lay tossed 
 upon the couch which served him for a bed. 
 
 She gazed lovingly for one moment into the open 
 chamber, and then went on through the broad corri 
 dor, dimly lighted everywhere with small oil lamps. 
 She looked into the council chamber and it was 
 deserted. The long rows of double seats were empty, 
 and gleamed faintly in the light. High upon the 
 dais at the end, a lamp burned above the carved chair 
 of ivory and gold, whereon the king sat when the 
 council was assembled. There was no one there. 
 Farther on, the low entrance to the treasury was 
 guarded by four spearmen, whose arms clanged upon 
 
 the floor as the queen passed. But she saw that the 
 Vol. 6 W 
 
276 ZOROASTER. 
 
 massive bolts and the huge square locks upon them 
 were in their places. There was no one within. In 
 the colonnade beyond, a few nobles stood talking 
 carelessly together, waiting for their evening meal to 
 be served them in a brightly illuminated hall, of 
 which the doors stood wide open to admit the cool 
 air of the coming night. The magnificently-arrayed 
 courtiers made a low obeisance and then stood in 
 astonishment as the queen went by. She held up her 
 head and nodded to them, trying to look as though 
 nothing disturbed her. 
 
 On and on she went through the whole wing, till 
 she came to her own apartment. Not so much as 
 one white-robed priest had she seen upon all her long 
 search. Zoroaster was certainly not in the portion of 
 the palace through which she had come. Entering 
 her own chambers, she looked round for the little 
 Syrian maid, but she had not returned. 
 
 Unable to bear the suspense any longer, she hastily 
 despatched a second slave in search of the chief priest 
 a Median woman, who had been with her in 
 Ecbatana. 
 
 It seemed as though the minutes were lengthened 
 to hours. Nehushta sat with her hands pressed to 
 her temples, that throbbed as though the fever would 
 burst her brain, and the black fan-girl plied the palm- 
 leaf with all her might, thinking that her mistress 
 suffered from the heat. The other women she dis 
 missed ; and she sat waiting beneath the soft light of 
 the perfumed lamp, the very figure and incarnation 
 of anxiety. 
 
 Something within her told her that she was in 
 
ZOROASTER. 277 
 
 great and imminent danger, and the calm she had 
 seen in the palace could not allay in her mind the 
 terror of that unearthly cry she had heard three times 
 from the hills. As she thought of it, she shuddered, 
 and the icy fear seemed to run through all her limbs, 
 chilling the marrow in her bones, and freezing her 
 blood suddenly in its mad course. 
 
 " Left alone with your lover " " it is the cry of 
 your fate " Atossa's words kept ringing in her ears 
 like a knell the knell of a shameful death; and as 
 she went over the bitter taunts of her enemy, her 
 chilled pulses beat again more feverishly than before. 
 She could not bear to sit still, but rose and paced the 
 room in intense agitation. Would they never come 
 back, those dallying slave-women ? 
 
 The fan-girl tried to follow her mistress, and her 
 small red eyes watched cautiously every one of Ne- 
 hushta's movements. But the queen waved her off 
 and the slave went and stood beside the chair where 
 she had sat, her fan hanging idly in her hand. At 
 that moment, the Median woman entered the cham 
 ber. 
 
 "Where is he?" asked Nehushta, turning suddenly 
 upon her. 
 
 The woman made a low obeisance and answered 
 in trembling tones : 
 
 " They say that the high priest left the palace two 
 hours ago, with the queen Atossa. They say " 
 
 " Thou liest ! " cried Nehushta vehemently, and her 
 face turned white, as she stamped her foot upon the 
 black marble pavement. The woman sprang back 
 with a cry of terror, and ran towards the door. She 
 
278 ZOROASTER. 
 
 had never seen her mistress so angry. But Nehushta 
 called her back. 
 
 "Come hither what else do they say?" she 
 asked, controlling herself as best she could. 
 
 " They say that the wild riders of the eastern desert 
 are descending from the hills," answered the slave 
 hurriedly and almost under her breath. " Every one 
 is flying everything is in confusion I hear them 
 even now, hurrying to and fro in the courts, the 
 soldiers " 
 
 But, even as she spoke, an echo of distant voices 
 and discordant cries came through the curtains of the 
 door from without, the rapid, uneven tread of people 
 running hither and thither in confusion, the loud 
 voices of startled men and the screams of frightened 
 women all blending together in a wild roar that 
 grew every moment louder. 
 
 Just then, the little Syrian maid came running in, 
 almost tearing the curtains from their brazen rods as 
 she thrust the hangings aside. She came and fell 
 breathless at Nehushta's feet and clasped her knees. 
 
 " Fly, fly, beloved mistress," she cried, " the devils 
 of the mountains are upon us they cover the hills 
 they are closing every entrance the people in 
 the lower palace are all slain " 
 
 " Where is Zoroaster ? " In the moment of su 
 preme danger, Nehushta grew calm, and her senses 
 were restored to her again. 
 
 "He is in the temple with the priests by this 
 time he is surely slain he could know of nothing 
 that is going on fly, fly ! " cried the poor Syrian 
 girl in an agony of terror. 
 
ZOROASTER. 279 
 
 Nehushta laid her hand kindly upon the head of 
 the little maid, and turning in the pride of her courage, 
 now that she knew the worst, she spoke calmly to the 
 other slaves who thronged in from the outer hall, some 
 breathless with fear, others screaming in an agony of 
 acute dread. 
 
 " On which side are they coming ? " she asked. 
 
 " From the hills, from the hills they are descending 
 in thousands," cried half a dozen of the frightened 
 women at once, the rest huddled together like sheep, 
 moaning in their fear. 
 
 " Go you all to the farther window," cried Nehushta, 
 in commanding tones. " Leap down upon the balcony 
 it is scarce a man's height follow it to the end 
 and past the corner where it joins the main wall of 
 the garden. Run along upon the wall till you find a 
 place where you can descend. Through the gardens 
 you can easily reach the road by the northern gate. 
 Fly and save yourselves in the darkness. You will 
 reach the fortress before dawn if you hasten. You 
 will hasten," she added with something of disdain in 
 her voice, for before she had half uttered her direc 
 tions, the last of the slave-women, mad with terror, 
 disappeared through the open window, and she could 
 hear them drop, one after the other, in quick suc 
 cession upon the marble balcony below. She was 
 alone. 
 
 But, looking down, she saw at her feet the little 
 Syrian maid, looking with imploring eyes to her face. 
 
 " Why do you not go with the rest ? " asked 
 Nehushta, stooping down and laying one hand upon 
 the girl's shoulder. 
 
280 ZOTtOASTER. 
 
 " I have eaten thy bread shall I leave thee in the 
 hour of death ? " asked the little slave, humbly. 
 
 " Go, child," replied Nehushta, very kindly. " I 
 have seen thy devotion and truth thou must not 
 perish." 
 
 But the Syrian leaped to her feet, and there was 
 pride in her small face, as she answered : 
 
 " I am a bondwoman, but I am a daughter of Israel, 
 even as thou art. Though all the others leave thee, 
 I will not. It may be I can help thee." 
 
 " Thou art a brave child," said Nehushta ; and 
 she drew the girl to her and pressed her kindly. " I 
 must go to Zoroaster stay thou here, hide thyself 
 among the curtains escape by the window, if any 
 come to harm thee." She turned and went rapidly 
 out between the curtains, as calm and as pale as 
 death. 
 
 The din in the palace had partially subsided, and 
 new and strange cries re-echoed through the vast halls 
 and corridors. An occasional wild scream a momen 
 tary distant crash as of a door breaking down and 
 thundering upon the marble pavement; and then 
 again, the long, strange cries, mingled with a dull, 
 low sound as of a great moaning all came up to 
 gether,, and seemed to meet Nehushta as she lifted 
 the curtains and went out. 
 
 But the little Syrian maid grasped the Indian knife 
 in her girdle, and stole stealthily upon her mistress's 
 steps. 
 
ZOROASTER. 281 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 NEHUSHTA glided like a ghost along the corridors 
 and dimly-lighted halls. As yet, the confusion 
 seemed to be all in the lower story of the palace, 
 but the roaring din rose louder every moment 
 the shrieks of wounded women with the moaning of 
 wounded men, the clash of swords and arms, and, 
 occasionally, a quick, loud rattle, as half a dozen 
 arrows that had missed their mark struck the wall 
 together. 
 
 Onward she flew, not pausing to listen, lest in a 
 moment more the tide of fight should be forced up 
 the stairs and overtake her. She shuddered as she 
 passed the head of the great staircase and heard, as 
 though but a few steps from her, a wild shriek that 
 died suddenly into a gurgling death hiss. 
 
 She passed the treasury, whence the guards had 
 fled, and in a moment more she was above the stair 
 case that led down to the temple behind the palace. 
 There was no one there as yet, as far as she could see 
 in the starlight. The doors were shut, and the mas 
 sive square building frowned through the gloom, 
 blacker than its own black shadow. 
 
 Nehushta paused as she reached the door, and lis 
 tened. Very faintly through the thick walls she 
 could hear the sound of the evening chant. The 
 priests were all within with Zoroaster, unconscious 
 
282 ZOROASTER. 
 
 of their danger and of all that was going on in the 
 palace, singing the hymns of the sacrifice before the 
 sacred fire, chanting, as it were, a dirge for them 
 selves. Nehushta tried the door. The great bronze 
 gates were locked together, and though she pushed 
 with her whole strength, they would not move a 
 hair's breadth. 
 
 " Press the nail nearest the middle," said a small 
 voice behind her. Nehushta started and looked 
 round. It was the little Syrian slave, who had fol 
 lowed her out of the palace, and stood watching her 
 in the dark. Nehushta put her hand upon the round 
 head of the nail and pressed, as the slave told her to 
 do. The door opened, turning slowly and noiselessly 
 upon its hinges. Both women entered; the Syrian 
 girl looked cautiously back and pushed the heavy 
 bronze back to its place. The Egyptian artisan who 
 had made the lock, had told one of the queen 's 
 women whom he loved the secret by which it was 
 opened, and the Syrian had heard it repeated and 
 remembered it. 
 
 Once inside, Nehushta ran quickly through the 
 corridor between the walls and rushing into the inner 
 temple, found herself behind the screen and in a 
 moment more she stood before all the priests and 
 before Zoroaster himself. But even as she entered, 
 the Syrian slave, who had lingered to close the gates, 
 heard the rushing of many feet outside, and the 
 yelling of hoarse voices, mixed with the clang of 
 arms. 
 
 Solemnly the chant rose around the sacred fire that 
 seemed to burn by unearthly means upon the black 
 
ZOROASTER. 283 
 
 stone altar. Zoroaster stood before it, his hands 
 lifted in prayer, and his waxen face and snow-white 
 beard illuminated by the dazzling effulgence. 
 
 The seventy priests, in even rank, stood around 
 the walls, their hands raised in like manner as their 
 chief priest's ; their voices going up in a rich chorus, 
 strong and tuneful, in the grand plain-chant. But 
 Nehushta broke upon their melody, with a sudden 
 cry, as she rushed before them. 
 
 " Zoroaster fly there is yet time. The enemy 
 are come in thousands they are in the palace. 
 There is barely time ! " As she cried to him and to 
 them all, she rushed forward and laid one hand upon 
 his shoulder. 
 
 But the high priest turned calmly upon her, his 
 face unmoved, although all the priests ceased their 
 chanting and gathered about their chief in sudden 
 fear. As their voices ceased, a low roar was heard 
 from without, as though the ocean were beating at 
 the gates. 
 
 Zoroaster gently took Nehushta's hand from his 
 shoulder. 
 
 " Go thou, and save thyself," he said kindly. "I 
 will not go. If it be the will of the All- Wise that I 
 perish, I will perish before this altar. Go thou 
 quickly, and save thyself while there is yet time." 
 
 But Nehushta took his hand in hers, that trembled 
 with the great emotion, and gazed into his calm 
 eyes as he spoke her look was very loving and very 
 sad. 
 
 " Knowest thou not, Zoroaster, that I would rather 
 die with thee than live with any other ? I swear to 
 
284 ZOROASTER. 
 
 thee, by the God of my fathers, I will not leave thee." 
 Her soft voice trembled for she was uttering her 
 own sentence of death. 
 
 " There is no more time ! " cried the voice of the 
 little Syrian maid, as she came running into the 
 temple. " There is no more time ! Ye are all dead 
 men ! Behold, they are breaking down the doors ! " 
 
 As she spoke, the noise of some heavy mass strik 
 ing against the bronze gates echoed like thunder 
 through the temple, and at each blow a chorus of 
 hideous yells rose, wild and long-drawn-out, as 
 though the fiends of hell were screaming in joy over 
 the souls of the lost. 
 
 The priests drew together, trembling with fear, 
 brave and devoted though they were. Some of them 
 would have run towards the door, but the Syrian 
 maid stood before them. 
 
 " Ye are dead men and there is no salvation ye 
 must die like men," said the little maid, quietly. 
 " Let me go to my mistress." And she pushed 
 through the crowd of white-robed men, who surged 
 together in their sudden fear, like a white-crested 
 wave heaved up from the deep by a fierce wind. 
 
 Nehushta still held Zoroaster's hand and stared 
 wildly upon the helpless priests. Her one thought 
 was to save the man she loved, but she saw well 
 enough that it was too late. Nevertheless she 
 appealed to the priests. 
 
 "Can none of you save him?" she cried. 
 
 Foremost in the little crowd was a stern, dark 
 man the same who had been the high priest before 
 Zoroaster came, the same who had first hurled de- 
 
ZOROASTER. 285 
 
 fiance at the intruder, and then had given him his 
 whole allegiance. He spoke out loudly : 
 
 "We will save him and thee if we are "able," he 
 cried in brave enthusiasm for his chief. "We will 
 take you between us and open the doors, and it may 
 be that we can fight our way out though we are 
 all slain, he may be saved." He would have laid 
 hold on Zoroaster, and there was not one of the 
 priests who would not have laid down his life in the 
 gallant attempt. But Zoroaster gently put him 
 back. 
 
 "Ye cannot save me, for my hour is come," he 
 said, and a radiance of unearthly glory stole upon his 
 features, so that he seemed transfigured and changed 
 before them all. " The foe are as a thousand men 
 against one. Here we must die like men, and like 
 priests of the Lord before His altar." 
 
 The thundering at the doors continued to echo 
 through the whole temple, almost drowning every 
 other sound as it came ; and the yells of the infuri 
 ated besiegers rose louder and louder between. 
 
 Zoroaster's voice rang out clear and strong and the 
 band of priests gathered more and more closely about 
 him. Nehushta still held his hand tightly between 
 her own, and, pale as death, she looked up to him as 
 he spoke. The little Syrian girl stood beside her 
 mistress, very quite and grave. 
 
 " Hear me, ye priests of the Lord," said Zoroaster. 
 " We are doomed men and must surely die, though 
 we know not by whose hand we perish. Now, there 
 fore, I beseech you to think not of this death which 
 we must suffer in our mortal bodies, but to open 
 
286 ZOROASTER. 
 
 your eyes to the things which are not mortal and 
 which perish not eternally. For man is but a frail 
 and changing creature as regards his mortality, seeing 
 that his life is not longer than the lives of other 
 created things, and he is delicate and sickly and 
 exposed to manifold dangers from his birth. But the 
 soul of man dieth not, neither is there any taint of 
 death in it, but it liveth for ever and is made glorious 
 above the stars. For the stars, also, shall have an 
 end, and the earth even as our bodies must end here 
 this night ; but our soul shall see the glory of God, 
 the All-Wise, and shall live. 
 
 " The sun riseth and the earth is made glad, and it 
 is day ; and again he setteth and it is night, and the 
 whole earth is sorrowful. But though our sun is gone 
 down and we shall see him rise no more, yet shall we 
 see a sun which setteth not for ever, and of whose 
 gladness there is no end. The morning cometh, after 
 which there shall be no evening. The Lord Ahura 
 Mazda, who made all things, made also these our 
 bodies, and put us in them to live and move and have 
 being for a space on earth. And now he demands 
 them again ; for he gave them and they are his. Let 
 us give them readily as a sacrifice, for he who know- 
 eth all things, knoweth also why it is meet that we 
 should die. And he who hath created all things 
 which we see and which perish quickly, hath created 
 also the things which we have not seen, but shall see 
 hereafter ; and the time is at hand when our eyes 
 shall be opened to the world which endureth, though 
 they be closed in death upon the things which perish. 
 Raise then a hymn of thanks with me to the All- Wise 
 
ZOROASTER. 287 
 
 God, who is pleased to take us from time into eter 
 nity, from darkness into light, from change to im 
 mortality, from death by death to life undying. 
 
 "Praise we the All- Wise God, who hath made and 
 
 created the years and the ages ; 
 Praise him who in the heavens hath sown and hath 
 
 scattered the seed of the stars ; 
 Praise him who moves between the three ages that are, 
 
 and that have been, and shall be ; 
 Praise him who rides on death, in whose hand are 
 
 all power and honour and glory ; 
 Praise him who made what seemeth, the image of 
 
 living, the shadow of life ; 
 Praise him who made what is, and hath made it 
 
 eternal for ever and ever, 
 
 T*?ho made the days and nights, and created the dark 
 ness to follow the light, 
 
 Who made the day of life, that should rise up and 
 lighten the shadow of death" 
 
 Zoroaster raised one hand to heaven as he chanted 
 the hymn, and all the priests sang with him in calm 
 and holy melody, as though death were not even then 
 with them. But Nehushta still held his other hand 
 fast, and her own were icy cold. 
 
 With a crash, as though the elements of the earth 
 were dissolving into primeval confusion, the great 
 bronze doors gave way, and fell clanging in and the 
 yells of the besiegers came to the ears of the priests, 
 as though the cover had been taken from the caldron 
 of hell, suffering the din of the damned and their 
 devils to burst forth in demoniac discord. 
 
288 ZOROASTER. 
 
 In an instant the temple was filled with a swarm of 
 hideous men, whose eyes were red with the lust of 
 blood and their hands with slaughter. Their crooked 
 swords gleamed aloft as they pressed forward in the 
 rush, and their yells rent the very roof. 
 
 They had hoped for treasure, they saw but a 
 handful of white-robed unarmed men, standing around 
 one taller than the rest; and in the throng they saw 
 two women. Their rage knew no bounds, and their 
 screams rose more piercing than ever, as they sur 
 rounded the doomed band, and overwhelmed them, 
 and dyed their misshapen blades in the crimson blood 
 that flowed so red and strong over the fair white 
 vestures. 
 
 The priests struggled like brave men to the last. 
 They grasped their hideous foes by arm and limb and 
 neck, and tossed some of them back upon their fellows ; 
 fighting desperately with their bare hands against the 
 armed murderers. But the foe were a hundred to one, 
 and the priests fell in heaps upon each other while 
 the blood flowed out between the feet of the wild, 
 surging throng, who yelled and slew, and yelled again, 
 as each priest tottered back and fell, with the death- 
 wound in his breast. 
 
 At last, one tall wretch, with blood-red eyes and 
 distorted features, leaped across a heap of slain and 
 laid hold of Nehushta by the hair with his reeking 
 hand, and strove to drag her out. But Zoroaster's thin 
 arms went round her like lightning and clasped her 
 to his breast. Then the little Syrian maid raised her 
 Indian knife, with both hands, high above her head, 
 and smote the villain with all her might beneath the 
 
ZOROASTER. 289 
 
 fifth rib, that he died in the very act ; but ere he had 
 fallen, a sharp blade fell swiftly, like a crooked flash 
 of light, and severed the small hands at the wrist; 
 and the brave, true-hearted little maid fell shrieking 
 to the floor. One shriek and that was all ; for the 
 same sword smote her again as she lay, and so she 
 died. 
 
 But Nehushta's head fell forward on the high priest's 
 breast, and her arms clasped him wildly as his clasped 
 her. 
 
 " Oh, Zoroaster, my beloved, my beloved ! Say not 
 any more that I am unfaithful, for I have been faith 
 ful even unto death, and I shall be with you beyond 
 the stars for ever ! " 
 
 He pressed her closer still, and in that awful 
 moment, his white face blazed with the radiant light 
 of the new life that comes by death alone. 
 
 " Beyond the stars and for ever ! " he cried. " In 
 the light of the glory of God most high ! " 
 
 The keen sword flashed out once more and severed 
 Nehushta's neck, and found its sheath in her lover's 
 heart; and they fell down dead together, and the 
 slaughter was done. 
 
 But on the third day, Darius the king returned; 
 for a messenger met him, bringing news that his 
 soldiers had slain the rebels in Ecbatana, though they 
 were ten to one. And when he saw what things had 
 been done in Stakhar, and looked upon the body of 
 the wife he had loved, lying clasped in the arms of 
 his most faithful and beloved servant, he wept most 
 bitterly. And he rode forth and destroyed utterly 
 the wild riders of the eastern hills, and left not one 
 
290 ZOROASTER. 
 
 child to weep for its father that was dead. But twc 
 thousand of them he brought to Stakhar, and cruci 
 fied them all upon the roadside, that their blood 
 might avenge the blood of those he had loved sc 
 well. 
 
 And he took the bodies of Zoroaster the high priest 
 and of Nehushta the queen, and of the little Syriar 
 maid, and he buried them with spices and fine linen 
 and in plates of pure gold, together in a tomb ovei 
 against the palace, hewn in the rock of the mountain 
 
 THE END. 
 
THE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, SANTA CRUZ 
 
 This book is due on the last DATE stamped below. 
 
 DEC 1 3 1967 
 
 100m-8,'65(F6282s8)2373 
 
 STORED AT N