it’s not just with this conversation that I allowed this tragedy. My blindness was so immense that I awaited this ominous day like a day of victory. My mind was filled with hope, my imagination only presented pleasant things to me. I considered the end of this battle as the beginning of my glory. I saw Abradate returning covered in laurels, his chariot laden with the spoils of his enemies. Thinking this way, I redoubled my efforts to provide him with brilliant weapons. I knew the value of Abradate, but I was still unaware of the cruelty of fate. I was so afraid that his noble deeds might not be acknowledged enough that I used all my precious stones to decorate his cuirass to make him more resplendent. But what I did did not help him to stay alive! Undoubtedly, I was on the side of the enemy, I wanted to show them where to strike. I am the cause of all the injuries that Abradate suffered. It was I who pierced his heart and covered his entire body with blood and wounds. I guided the hand of all those who attacked him. In addition to arousing envy in the audacious to conquer a glorious warrior, I also wished that every savage and mercenary shared the same objective. I armed against him the entire army of Crésus. Some I armed with the sheer desire to defeat this man who seemed to be the god of war and others by the lure of loot, for by stripping him of his cuirass they would become rich. I am the one who armed Abradate before the battle, it is I who strapped this cuirass onto him and handed him his weapons. 

Yes, Cyrus, it was I who brought about his downfall. And although at that moment a nescient fear warned me of the impending disaster, I despised this feeling sent by the gods. Unable to stop my tears, I was ungrateful in hiding them from my dear Abradate. It seemed to me that showing him my grief would be to rob him of his heart, to convey that I lacked courage. How thoughtless I was! I should have displayed my affliction with all the bitterness that it contained, as I have no doubt that if he had understood that my life depended on his, he would have taken a little more care of himself. He thought of your glory and of my life. But, Cyrus, it seemed in this situation, that I cared neither for the life of Abradate nor for my own. For when I finished arming him and led him towards the splendid chariot that awaited him, I spoke to him neither of himself nor of me, but only of the debt I owed you. I reminded him that you could have treated me as a slave, but you had treated me as a queen. Having had the misfortune to separate you from a man whom you loved more than yourself, you had the generosity to protect me against him. And after such a just action, I had promised you that Abradate would be as faithful and as useful as Araspe had been. Lo and behold, great Cyrus, this is what I said to my dear Abradate when we prepared to part for the last time. His feelings never strayed from mine. “Let me show myself today as a worthy friend of Cyrus, as a worthy husband to Panthea,” he said to me while stretching his hand to my head and raising his eyes to the sky. As he uttered his words, he left me and got onto his chariot, watching me as long as he could. He gave orders to the one who accompanied him.

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