Neriglissor was only too ready to begin. “The Persians,” he whispered, “the Persians! Barbarous dogs! Faugh! I sicken thinking of the strong Median nard the daughter of Cyrus smeared on her hair!” Itti smiled benevolently. “What Persian can have the delicate taste of a Babylonian? Yet you have not told the omen.” Neriglissor’s voice sank yet lower. “These Persians are friends to the Jews, that race of blasphemers. Each nation worships the same demon, though the Jews style him Jehovah, the Persians Ahura-Mazda. Long have the pious foreseen that unless these unbelievers were kept out of Babylon the gods would be angry. Yesterday this Atossa comes to Babylon to be his Majesty’s queen. Thus we are about to strike hands with the foes of the gods, as if it were not enough to continue the old scoffer Daniel in office. And this morning follows the omen.” Itti was bending over that not a word might escape. Neriglissor continued, “As Iln-ciya, the chief prophet, and I stood by the temple gate, a band of street dogs, all unawares, strayed past, and entered the enclosure.” Itti started as he sat, forgot his manehs, and began to mutter an invocation to Ramman, while his lips twitched. “Impossible!” was all he could gasp. “Too true,” put in Avil, solemnly. “You know the ancient oracle,” and he rolled out the formula:— “‘When dogs in a court of a temple meet, The hosts of the city face swift defeat.’ We brought the news to the king. He is all anxiety. There will be a special council and consulting of the oracles. We trust, by laying extra burdens on these stubborn Jews, we can in some measure avert the wrath of heaven. Yet this is a fearful portent, just as his Majesty is about to marry a Persian.” Itti was still shaking his head, when an increased din rising from the street warned Avil that there would be no passing at present for his chariot. “Way! way!” a squad of spearmen were bawling, forcing back the traffickers to either side. The banker and his guests stared forth curiously. “Way! way!” the shout grew louder, and behind sounded a creaking and a rumbling. The chief priest glanced toward the gate. “The new stone bull,” commented he, “comes from Karkhemish. They landed it above the bridge; now they drag it to the old palace of Nabupolassar, which the king is repairing.” “Then the Jews,” remarked Itti shrewdly, “are already being rewarded for their impiety. Has not the labour gang been taken from their nation?” “You are right,” said Avil, “they will fast learn that to keep clear of forced labour they must go to the _ziggurat_ and the grove of Istar.” “Strange people,” declared Itti, “so steadfast to their helpless god!” “If Marduk gives me life,” swore Avil, “I will bend their stiff necks. His Majesty promises the indulgence of former reigns shall end forever.”