Part 23 (1/2)

”And n.o.body who is not, of course,” said the young man.

”Oh yes, you did,” answered Cyrus, ”you hit that officer over there who is riding so swiftly paste the chariot-lines.”

[30] ”And how is it,” asked the other, ”that he does not even turn his head?”

”Half-witted, probably,” said Cyrus.

Whereat the young man rode off to see who it was, and found Pheraulas, with his chin and beard all begrimed and b.l.o.o.d.y, gore trickling from his nostrils were the clod had struck him. [31] The Sakian cried out to know if he was. .h.i.t.

”As you see,” answered Pheraulas.

”Then,” said the other, ”let me give you my horse.”

”But why?” asked Pheraulas.

And so the Sakian had to tell him all about the matter, adding, ”And after all, you see, I did not miss a gallant fellow.”

[32] ”Ah,” said Pheraulas, ”if you had been wise, you would have chosen a richer one; but I take your gift with all my thanks. And I pray the G.o.ds,” he added, ”who let me be your target, to help me now and see that you may never regret your gift. For the present, mount my horse yourself and ride back; I will be with you shortly.”

So they exchanged steeds and parted.

The winner of the Cadousian race was Rathines.

[33] Then followed chariot-races, tribe by tribe as before: and to all the winners Cyrus gave goblets of price, and oxen, that they might have the wherewithal for sacrifice and feasting. He himself took an ox for his own meed, but he gave all the goblets to Pheraulas to show his approval of the arrangements for the march. [34] And the manner of that procession, then first established by Cyrus, continues to this day, the same in all things, save that the victims are absent when there is no sacrifice. And when it was over, the soldiers went back to the city, and took up their quarters for the night, some in houses and some with their regiments.

[35] Now Pheraulas had invited the Sakian who had given him the horse, and he entertained him with the best he had, and set before him a full board, and after they had dined he filled the goblets Cyrus had given him, and drank to his guest, and offered them all to him. [36] And the Sakian looked round on the rich and costly rugs, and the beautiful furniture, and the train of servants, and cried:

”Tell me, Pheraulas, do you belong to wealthy folk at home?”

[37] ”Wealthy folk indeed!” cried Pheraulas, ”men who live by their hands, you mean. My father, I can tell you, had work enough to rear me and get me a boy's schooling; he had to toil hard and live sparely, and when I grew to be a lad he could not afford to keep me idle, he took me to a farm in the country and set me there to work it. [38] Then it was my turn, and I supported him while he lived, digging with my own hands and sowing the seed in a ridiculous little plot of ground, and yet it was not a bad bit of soil either, but as good and as honest earth as ever you saw: whatever seed it got from me, it paid me back again, and so prettily and carefully and duly, princ.i.p.al and interest both; not that the interest was very much, I won't say it was, though once or twice, out of pure generosity, that land gave me twice was much as I put into it. That's how I used to live at home, in the old days: to-day it's different, and all that you see here I owe to Cyrus.”

[39] Then the Sakian cried:

”O lucky fellow! Lucky in everything, and most of all in coming to wealth from beggary! I know your riches must taste the sweeter, because you hungered for them first and now are full.”

[40] But Pheraulas answered:

”Do you really think, my friend, that my joy in life has grown with the growth of my wealth? Do you not know,” he went on, ”that I neither eat nor drink nor sleep with any more zest than I did when I was poor? What I get by all these goods is simply this: I have more to watch over, more to distribute, and more trouble in looking after more. [41] I have a host of servants now, one set asking me for food, another for drink, another for clothing, and some must have the doctor, and then a herdsman comes, carrying the carcase of some poor sheep mangled by the wolves, or perhaps with an ox that has fallen down a precipice, or maybe he has to tell me that a murrain has broken out among my flocks. It seems to me,”

Pheraulas ended, ”that I suffer more to-day through having much than ever I did before through having nothing.”

[42] ”But--Heaven help us!” cried the Sakian, ”surely, when it is all safe, to see so much of your own must make you much happier than me?”

”I a.s.sure you, my friend,” said Pheraulas, ”the possession of riches is nothing like so sweet as the loss of them is painful. And here is a proof for you: no rich man lies awake from pure joy at his wealth, but did you ever know a man who could close his eyes when he was losing?”

[43] ”No,” said the Sakian, ”nor yet one who could drop asleep when he was winning.”

[44] ”True enough,” answered the other, ”and if having were as sweet as getting, the rich would be a thousand times more happy than the poor.

And remember, stranger,” he added, ”a man who has much must spend much on the G.o.ds and his friends and his guests, and if he takes intense delight in his riches, spending will cause him intense annoyance.”