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 absorbed 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 evening.  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 nightingales 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 herself 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 features.  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 accompany me, else I should not have asked you the question.  I feared that you might be lonely here in Stakhar—­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.

“I am glad—­with a gladness only you can know.  I would you were already gone!”