“How oft when men are at the point of death

Have they been merry!”

Shakespeare.

After the defeat of the Persians at Salamis, Xerxes retreated across the Hellespont to Asia, but Mardonius was not so easily disheartened. With three hundred thousand men he wintered in Thessaly making thorough preparations for a second attack upon Athens the following summer. What was his utter amazement upon re-entering the city to find it completely deserted, its citizens having remained at Salamis, Troezen and Aegina. Thereupon he retreated to Thebes in Bœotia there to await the Greek offensive which was to be strengthened by aid from the Spartans.

On a certain evening in spring, ten months after the destruction of Athens, Zopyrus and his friend Masistius, sat outside the entrance of the latter’s tent in the Persian encampment near Thebes. The night was cool for that time of the year, but the chill was warded off to some extent by a brightly blazing fire.

“What think you of this sumptuous feast to be given by the Theban Attaginus, on the morrow?” asked Zopyrus.
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“I expect I shall enjoy the feast, but I do not admire the Bœotians,” replied Masistius. “They are unfaithful to their country’s cause, and above all things I loathe a traitor. Of course our outward appearances must be those of friendship, for they are of inestimable service to the Persian cause, but how different from the traitorous Thebans was that little band of Athenians who tried to defend their Acropolis!”

Zopyrus’ brow clouded at memory of that tragic scene. “By the way Masistius, what became of the girl whom Xerxes gave to Artabazus when the latter was forced to surrender the maiden to whom I laid claim?”

Masistius gazed silently into the bright flames and tossed a twig into the fire, watching it a moment before he spoke.

“Her young life will be consumed just as that twig. She was taken away by Artabazus and is now a captive in his harem.”

Masistius paused a moment impressively, then he asked without even glancing in Zopyrus’ direction: “And the other maiden, what of her? But that is a rude question,” he added, laying an affectionate hand upon the other’s shoulder. “I presume by now she is safe with her people.”
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Zopyrus turned quickly and sought his companion’s gaze. “Friend Masistius,” he said, “I have kept locked within my breast these ten months, a secret, so precious that I hesitate to share it, and I would not do so were it not approaching the eve of battle, but to you who throughout this entire campaign, have been the only friend whose ideas of life coincide with mine, I will disclose that which I had not thought to reveal to mortal man. Although my acquaintance with the maiden of whom you speak was of short duration, it was, nevertheless, long enough to convince me that I want her for my wife.”

The Persian cavalryman expressed no little surprise at his friend’s disclosure.

“Was the infatuation mutual?” he asked.

“If I possess any ability in interpreting a maiden’s thoughts through her eyes, my love is reciprocated,” said Zopyrus, the color mounting to his temples.

“If that be the case,” spoke Masistius heartily, “may Ahura-Mazdâo bring you together after we have conquered Greece!”

“And if we cannot succeed in subduing the Greeks?”

“Then Zeus may perform the act of reuniting you,” replied Masistius somewhat bitterly.

The fire had by this time died down till only a few glowing embers remained. Zopyrus rose to take his leave.

“Farewell, Masistius, till the feast. Forget the confidences of the past hour. This love of mine can avail nothing.”

“Of that I am not so sure, Zopyrus. The vision of a certain beautiful young woman has kept up my courage that might otherwise have failed me.”

With a friendly hand-clasp, the two parted.

* * * * * * * *

The hall appropriated to the feast was part of the private home of the Theban leader, Attaginus. Through a wide entrance at one side of the hall, the guests glimpsed a court, the floor of which was of variegated mosaic tiles forming intricate designs and patterns. In the center a marble fountain tossed up its silvery cooling spray. Among the potted palms and ferns, birds of bright-colored plumage flitted about adding their sweet notes to that of cithera and flute. Rarest flowers of every hue glowed from sculptured vases among the green foliage of the plants, and sweet spices burned in guilded tripods.
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Within the hall the cedar-wood tables[3] groaned under the weight of gold and silver dishes filled with tasty viands. There were thrushes browned to a turn, fish, lentils, olive-oil, cheese, fruit, cakes baked in the shape of Persian and Greek soldiers, and many desserts and dainties to induce thirst for the wine which was to come later.

The astute Attaginus had arranged his guests in such a manner that a Bœotian and a Persian occupied the same couch. In this way he hoped to stimulate the fraternal spirit between Persian and Greek. Thus Artabazus found himself occupying a couch with a Theban cavalryman by the name of Timegenidas, Masistius discovered his companion to be a certain Theban, Asopodorus, while Mardonius and Attaginus were partners.
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Zopyrus being an inferior officer to those mentioned, sat among others of equal rank with himself at an end of the hall. In spite of the revel and festivity about him, he labored in vain to throw off a sense of depression. To one of his nature it was impossible to forget the probable tragedies of the morrow in the carousal and merry-making of today. These men about him were trying to veil sorrow with levity; a thing that men have done for countless ages and probably always will; a last expiring effort to enjoy life while it is still in their possession; a desire to crowd out of consciousness the possibility of oblivion by a present rapturous delight in the reality of existence.

The Greek who sat with Zopyrus observed his nonchalance and endeavored to encourage conversation. He plied Zopyrus with questions as to his native city, the details of the campaign from Sardis to Thessaly, until the Persian was forced to make similar inquiries in regard to the Bœotian, who he learned was a citizen of Orchomenus, by the name of Thersander.

At the close of the above mentioned courses servants entered and moved noiselessly about, putting wreaths on the heads and around the necks of the guests and pouring upon them sweet-scented ointments. At this point in the feast Attaginus arose and all eyes were turned in his direction.

“............