The youths held to their first assertion, that they were Lydian Hekatontarchs, and begged the functionary to provide them with passes and tell them in what way they might most easily obtain admittance into the king's troop of auxiliaries.
The man did not hesitate long, after Theopompus had undertaken to be their surety, and the desired documents were made out.
Bartja's pass ran thus: "Smerdis, the son of Sandon of Sardis, about 22 years of age--figure, tall and slender-face, well-formed:--nose, straight:--forehead, high with a small scar in the middle:--is hereby permitted to remain in those parts of Egypt in which the law allows foreigners to reside, as surety has been given for him.
"In the King's name. "Sachons, Clerk."
Darius and Zopyrus received passports similarly worded.
When the government official had left the houses, Theopompus rubbed his hands and said: "Now if you will follow my advice on all points you can stay in Egypt safely enough. Keep these little rolls as if they were the apple of your eye, and never part from them. Now, however, I must beg you to follow me to breakfast and to tell me, if agreeable to you, whether a report which has just been making the round of the market is not, as usual, entirely false. A trireme from Kolophon, namely, has brought the news that your powerful brother, noble Bartja, is preparing to make war with Amasis."
.........................
On the evening of the same day, Bartja and Sappho saw each other again. In that first hour surprise and joy together made Sappho's happiness too great for words. When they were once more seated in the acanthus-grove whose blossoming branches had so often seen and sheltered their young love, she embraced him tenderly, but for a long time they did not speak one word. They saw neither moon nor stars moving silently above them, in the warm summer night; they did not even hear the nightingales who were still repeating their favorite, flute-like, Itys-call to one another; nor did they feel the dew which fell as heavily on their fair heads as on the flowers in the grass around them.
At last Bartja, taking both Sappho's hands in his own, looked long and silently into her face, as if to stamp her likeness for ever on his memory. When he spoke at last, she cast down her eyes, for he said: "In my dreams, Sappho, you have always been the most lovely creature that Auramazda ever created, but now I see you again, you are more lovely even than my dreams."
And when a bright, happy glance from her had thanked him for these words, he drew her closer to him, asking: "Did you often think of me?"