Her whole soul rose in bitter resentment; not only did Zoroaster love this black-eyed, dark-browed child of captivity, but the king, who had always maintained that Atossa was unequalled in the world, even when he coldly informed her that he would never trust her, now dared to say before Zoroaster, almost before Nehushta herself, that the princess was the more beautiful of the two.

The one man wounded her in her vanity, the other in her heart.
It would not be possible at present to be revenged upon the king.

There was little chance of eluding his sleepless vigilance, or of leading him into any rash act of self-destruction.

Besides, she knew him too well not to understand that he was the only man alive who could save Persia from further revolutions, and keep the throne against all comers.

She loved power and the splendour of her royal existence, perhaps more than she loved Zoroaster.