"Bartja had better take care," he murmured, "or he shall know what fate awaits the man who dares to cross my path." Nitetis too had passed a restless night.
The common apartment of the women was next to her own, and the noise and singing there had not ceased until nearly midnight.

She could often distinguish the shrill voice of Boges joking and laughing with these women, who were under his charge.

At last all was quiet in the wide palace halls and then her thoughts turned to her distant home and her poor sister Tachot, longing for her and for the beautiful Bartja, who, Croesus had told her, was going to-morrow to the war and possibly to death.

At last she fell asleep, overcome by the fatigue of the journey and dreaming of her future husband.

She saw him on his black charger.
The foaming animal shied at Bartja who was lying in the road, threw his rider and dragged him into the Nile, whose waves became blood-red.