The morning was radiant with golden sunlight when the splendid procession left the city of Khārizm; the streets were gorgeous with flags, and branches of flowering trees stood by every doorway, while the palace itself was covered with silken banners, lightly draped with wreaths of flowers. The excited horses, with their golden caparisons, tossed their heads in the air, and pranced with joy as the strains of music rang out from the balconies around them, and the camels gently shook their light-toned bells in every passing breeze. Hundreds of banners floated above the troops and waved like the wings of birds in the sunlight; the gleaming swords of the warriors were pointed up to heaven, and a thousand voices rang with joyous acclamation. Keiwan and his queen rode in the imperial chariot immediately behind the camels bearing the luxurious cushions of the prince and his bride, for they traveled a day’s journey with them before bidding their children farewell, and then returned sorrowfully to their lonely palace home. The gorgeous cavalcade moved slowly onward, over hill and plain, and through a forest where all the branches laughed with songs of birds, and trusses of scarlet pomegranate blossoms gleamed here and there through the rich foliage. When night came down upon the landscape an encampment was made beside a river, and pavilions of scarlet and gold were furnished with costly cushions that invited repose. THE MESSENGER. The uneventful days passed slowly by, and still the great cavalcade was far from its destination, when Meher ordered his especial attendant to mount one of the swiftest Arabian horses and carry a letter to his father asking if he wished him to return. The Persian monarch was sitting in the council hall surrounded by his counselors, and they were considering an important affair of state when a messenger was announced. He was ordered into an adjoining room to wait until King Shapur was ready to receive him, and here he could look upon the once familiar form of his sovereign. He was astonished to see how greatly the Shāh had changed with the passing years; only three times had the seasons made their cycles, and yet the stalwart form was bent as if with age, the dark hair was already silvered and the furrows upon the weary brow told that grief and remorse were leaving their impress upon his once serene countenance. At last the word was brought that the messenger could now approach the king, but he replied that his was a secret mission, he must see his majesty alone, and after a time he was ushered into the private audience room.