“Peace, fool,” Khatin whispered hoarsely. “Persian or Chaldee, I know a true man or a true maid. Where is the Babylonish hussy who could bear herself in Susa thus?” Three more litters, bearing Tavat-Hasina, the stately queen-mother, Avil-Marduk, and the Jewess Ruth. Both women, like Atossa, shone with jewels that twinkled under every torch; but Avil was clad in perfectly plain robes and fillet,—strange contrast to the gay-robed company about. He met the gaze of the multitude with his wonted stare and smile, arrogant almost as his royal betters. But the Jewess was quaking like aspen behind her purple and crimson. She said nothing; but her great eyes were wandering all about, well telling the terror that had sunk too deep for tear or cry. Then behind the litters came the lords and captains of the Chaldees, two by two, and more gilded armour, gem-crusted helmets, brilliant mantles and surcoats; stately men all, who had anew given their Babylon the proud title of “Lady of Kingdoms,” for they were the first warriors before whom Cyrus, the terrible Aryan, had turned away in defeat. Belshazzar had stretched himself on the high couch, the ladies and pontiff took the chairs set at his side, the captains were seating themselves below at the many small tables. Yet the king’s eyes wandered about, inquiringly. “Where is Sirusur the general?” Whereupon Bilsandan the vizier approached with a profound salaam. “River of Omnipotence! the _Tartan_ asks me to beseech that he be pardoned. He lies unwell in his own house; much service and the reopening of an old wound drive him to his bed.” “Lord,” quoth Avil, _sotto voce_, to his master, “Sirusur was anything but ill this noon. To my mind—” But Bilsandan interrupted nigh testily: “Priest, you sniff for treason as a hound for a hare! Is it conspiracy for the king’s generals to be stricken with the sickness-demon?” “Nevertheless,” objected the priest, “let a messenger be sent to Sirusur’s palace—” But the vizier sneered boldly: “My dear pontiff, not one ‘double-hour’ since I saw him on his bed, with five wizards from your own temple preparing incantations over him. Shall we not rather vow three steers that he come from their clutches safely?” “Samas protect Sirusur from the ‘five fiends,’” laughed the king. “I mourn his absence, but he is forgiven. Enough delay! Let the feast begin.” Instantly, as by magic, the tapestries upon the walls were brushed aside, revealing doorways, whence a long procession of eunuchs filed into the hall, each bearing a silver dish or basket; and soon fish and flesh of every manner were piled upon the dishes of the king’s guests. Nor were the throngs below the rope barriers forgotten; here, too, food was served until man and child could take no more. The music rose and fell in swaying rhythm and cadence; and now and again the choir of Bel would burst into their song of praise to god and king, raising their pæan louder, louder, until the canopies quivered:—