* * * * * So the gossip ran in the town, and in the palace there was one continuous carnival. Belshazzar sat on his throne in the great audience hall; two tame lions crouched at right and left, but he, in his kingly majesty looked the noblest lion of them all. Before him had come the captains of thousands and of hundreds, to pay obeisance and listen to the royal words of praise, or even receive some crowning mark of good will—a chain of gold hung round their necks by the monarch’s own hand. Then, next to Belshazzar, all paid court to Avil-Marduk, who stood more modestly in a corner of the great hall, while the noblest of the princes salaamed to him, and wished him “a thousand sons and a thousand daughters;” for it was hardly more an hour of triumph for the king than for Avil. His policy of mingled caution and boldness had been completely vindicated. His influence in the royal council would be supreme. Never had Babylon stood so clearly in the zenith of glory. And now that the power of Cyrus seemed broken, to what bounds might not the dominions of the Chaldee reach? And Avil-Marduk was saying within his crafty heart, “The city may ascribe the triumph to Belshazzar if they will, the wise will confess it won by me.” Only one thing marred the high priest’s bliss. Sirusur the _Tartan_ and Bilsandan the vizier gave no compliments, only dark frowns, when they passed him; and Avil spoke again within himself of a certain ambition that boded little good for general or minister, or even king. But the hopes and fears of his underlings had little place in the heart of Belshazzar that day, when he dismissed the levee, and his parasol and fan bearers followed him into the harem of the palace. Hardly had Igas-Ramman the guards-captain departed after reporting that the last of the Persian host had vanished in such haste as to leave much valuable armour and camp furniture, when Mermaza came before the king with a tale that made his smooth face beam with complacent mirth. “Let the king’s heart be enlarged, his liver exalted. Know, my lord, Marduk sends no fair thing singly. May your slave speak?” “Say on.” The king was smiling, too, for he saw Mermaza had some wondrous good fortune to relate. “Lord,” quoth Mermaza, smirking, “have you forgotten the daughter of Daniel?” “Forgotten? By Istar, am I like to forget those stars, her eyes? or how her accursed father has hidden her, despite all search?” “Wrong, my king.” Mermaza brushed his stiffly pomatumed curls on the leopard’s skin at Belshazzar’s feet. “I and my eunuchs have discovered. A shy partridge, but she is snared.” “Nabu prosper you, fellow! How did you secure her? When? Where?”