Cambyses thought he could not refuse anything to the man, who had been such a benefactor to his mother, and granted him full power to do what he wished.  On arriving at Amasis’ capital, he went at once to the temple of Neith, caused the high-priest (who had moreover placed himself at the head of the citizens hostile to Persia), to be arrested, and with him a certain oculist named Petammon.  He then informed them that, as punishment for the burning of certain papers, they would be condemned to serve a Persian to whom he should sell them, for the term of their natural lives, and to perform the most menial services of slaves in a foreign country.  I was present at this scene, and I assure you I trembled before the Egyptian as he said these words to his enemies.  Neithotep, however, listened quietly, and when Nebenchari had finished, answered him thus:  If thou, foolish son, hast betrayed thy country for the sake of thy burnt manuscripts, the deed has been neither just nor wise.  I preserved thy valuable works with the greatest care, laid them up in our temple, and sent a complete copy to the library at Thebes.  Nothing was burnt but the letters from Amasis to thy father, and a worthless old chest.  Psamtik and Petammon were present, and it was then and there resolved that a new family tomb in the city of the dead should be built for thee as a compensation for the loss of papers, which, in order to save Egypt, we were unfortunately forced to destroy.  On its walls thou canst behold pleasing paintings of the gods to whom thou hast devoted thy life, the most sacred chapters from the book of the dead, and many other beautiful pictures touching thine own life and character.”

“The physician turned very pale—­asked first to see his books, and then his new and beautifully-fitted-up tomb.  He then gave his slaves their freedom, (notwithstanding which they were still taken to Memphis as prisoners of war), and went home, often passing his hand across his forehead on the way, and with the uncertain step of one intoxicated.  On reaching his house he made a will, bequeathing all he possessed to the grandson of his old servant Hib, and, alleging that he was ill, went to bed.  The next morning he was found dead.  He had poisoned himself with the fearful strychnos-juice.”

“Miserable man” said Croesus.  “The gods had blinded him, and he reaped despair instead of revenge, as a reward for his treachery.”

“I pity him,” murmured Rhodopis.  “But look, the rowers are taking in their oars.  We are at the end of our journey; there are your litters and carriages waiting for you.  It was a beautiful trip.  Farewell, my dear ones; come to Naukratis soon, I shall return at once with Theopompus and Syloson.  Give little Parmys a thousand kisses from me, and tell Melitta never to take her out at noon.  It is dangerous for the eyes.  Good-night, Croesus; good-night, friends, farewell my dear son.”

The Persians left the vessel with many a nod and farewell word, and Bartja, looking round once more, missed his footing and fell on the landing-pier.