“There nature moulds as nobly now,

As e’er of old, the human brow;

And copies still the martial form

That braved Platæa’s battle storm.”

William Cullen Bryant.

Artabazus’ steps were directed to the tent of the women. With heavy tread he strode in the panoply of war. At the corner of the tent his foot came in rough contact with a soft object and to his amazement he discovered it to be the body of his guard. A hasty examination assured him that the body was lifeless. Filled with forebodings, he hastily parted the flaps and gazed within the tent. His eyes first fell upon the prostrate form of his eunuch, then with a swift glance he surveyed the women, and he knew what had taken place during his absence.

White with fury he cried, “Where is the Greek girl?”

His appearance in his wrathful state was so forbidding that not one of the women ventured to make reply. Upon receiving no response, Artabazus turned to Phædime, whereupon his favorite, with an assumption of her usual self assurance, made bold to answer.
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“A Persian officer killed the guard, bound Amorges here, and bore Ladice away with him. Is it not so?” Phædime turned to her fair companions to confirm her words, confident in her position as favorite.

All readily affirmed the escape as stated by Phædime with the exception of a small oval-faced beauty with shining black hair and ruddy lips, that would not refuse to smile at her master even in his state of demoniac anger.

“What say you, Parysatis?” questioned the officer, noting her refusal to corroborate Phædime’s words.

“If my master would know the truth,” smiled Parysatis, “Phædime herself allowed the Greek girl to be taken away.”

An ominous silence of horror pervaded the tent for a moment while all eyes were turned to Artabazus, who in livid rage seized the hapless Phædime.

“You are hurting me,” she cried in abject terror. “Can you not know that what I did was because of love for you? Oh, my Artabazus, if you but commanded it, I would crawl from here to the Hellespont, where I long to cross with you back to the land where we meet no Greeks either in warfare or in love.”

The Persian commander laughed wildly, a laugh that froze the blood in the veins of his hearers. “You will never cross the Hellespont nor even leave this tent alive!”

There was a flash of gleaming steel, a hissing sound, and the headless trunk of the Persian beauty sank before its murderer.

* * * * * * * *

During the time that Zopyrus and Ladice made good their escape from the Persian encampment and were beginning to pursue their precarious way across Mt. Cithæron, the Greek encampment lay in the stillness of sleep. Above the tents rose the gentle, picturesque slope of the mountain, where beyond the space which had been cleared, the forest stretched in black silence.
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In one of the tents well toward the forest edge of the encampment, three young men sat around a small table upon which a candle sent forth its flickering light. Presently one of them arose with an impatient gesture and strode back and forth with restless energy.

“What ails you, Cimon?” questioned one of the two who were seated. He was a thin wiry fellow, whose face showed the tan of continued exposure to the elements. His nose was aquiline, his lips thin and his eye penetrating, but withal, kindly.

“Nothing new, Icetes, but before tomorrow’s battle I should like to know if Ladice is confined in the harem of one of the Persian leaders as I have heard.”

“Wait till the battle is over, and if Zeus grants us the victory, demand the return of the girl. The harems of the Persians will be ours then, and to such a brave soldier as you have proved yourself to be, Pausanias will gladly give first choice of the spoils,” said Icetes, rising from his chair and placing a friendly hand upon the other’s shoulder.

Cimon smiled wanly. “Perhaps you are right, my friend,” he acquiesced “but you can not know how I suffer! Has Eros never found you vulnerable here?” Cimon placed both hands upon his heart and smiled with a questioning glance at Icetes.
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“If Eros has ever found him so, it was not for the love of a............