Merry or sad, the young man waited no second bidding. He sped up the narrow stairway by the side of the court, and reached the upper veranda. Here a sort of balcony, overhanging the yard, had been walled with curtains of blue Egyptian stuffs, and behind had been set a tall loom, its frame half filled with a web of bright wools, where a brilliant rug was unfolding under skilful fingers. Two dark-eyed Arabian girls were aiding their mistress; but at sight of Isaiah, the red thread shook from her lap, and she flew twittering into his arms. Then like two birds they cooed together, their eyes talking faster than their lips; and at last—for all things lovely must find end—Isaiah was in his accustomed seat, a cushioned footstool beside the loom, and there he could sit and chatter while the broad web grew. But Ruth was in no mood for small talk. Her little lips were wrinkled in a pout, the cast of her eye was sulky. And while she wrought over the loom, her fountain of wrath was emptied. “Were I not an obedient daughter of Israel, I should say unholy things of my good father. Surely Jehovah forsakes us and suffers him to wax mad!” “Daniel mad? He has the sagest head in all Babylon. Fie, little owlet!” “Either he is mad or worse. There!” the red-thonged sandals over the small feet stamped angrily, “I will tell all, though it be a sin to revile a parent.” “Verily, for _you_ to be wroth with your father must spring from no slight cause!” protested Isaiah, feebly attempting to smile. “Is it not sufficient that I must be kept precious as a finch in his cage?—never suffered to go forth to any of the fêtes at the palace, veiled always, when I sally abroad, and guarded as if I were a prisoner about to make escape?” “Old tales, Ruth,”—Isaiah strove to speak lightly; then more gravely, “Was the last time we sallied forth, and met the lion and the king, so joyous that you wish it repeated daily?” He saw her shudder, and her mouth twitched, as he recalled that scene; but she was too thoroughly filled with wrath even to let that memory turn her. “Not so—let my father send fifty servants about me, and wrap my face in twoscore veils! But now I am made utter prisoner. Yesterday I visited the bazaars with Gedeliah, our body-servant; and in the jeweller’s shop of Binzurbasna by the Gate of Istar I saw an armlet that fitted my eye as water its cup. I had no money, but last night my father gave me more than the price. To-day Gedeliah starts at dawn with a letter to Kisch. Later I say, ‘Father, I will take another servant and go and buy the armlet.’ He makes all manner of objections to my going. ‘Let the serving-man go; do you remain.’ ‘No,’ answered I, ‘only Gedeliah and I can tell which is the armlet; if I wait, it is sold.’ I beseech exceedingly, whereupon he says, after his firm manner: ‘Peace, Ruth; I know what is well for you. You shall not go to-day.’ Then he summons his chariot, and departs to Borsippa. Have I no cause for anger?”