“Another time,” remonstrated the minister. “I have not come hither to make merry; I must be back to Babylon with all haste.” “Not sleep in Borsippa? Your little goddess Ruth will not weep her sight away in your absence?” “Ruth!” Daniel had started at the name; but, as if there were an omen in the word, there sounded a sudden rumbling and jarring in the brick-paved road outside the temple precinct, the noise of a heavy carriage at a headlong speed, the cracking of a whip, shoutings and cursings, all rising together. When before had a like din roused the peaceful suburb? Imbi sprang to the parapet and stared across in wonder. “God of Borsippa,” he swore, “have we a chariot charge!” The clamour swept nearer, broken now by a yell of keenest pain, followed by a great shout from the younger priests and students watching from below. “Nabu save him! The wheel has crossed his body!” “Eunuchs! The king’s eunuchs! They violate the sanctuary!” bawled many more, with a scamper of feet through the gateway. “In Jehovah’s name, what is this!” cried Daniel, leaping up beside Imbi; but the pontiff had just time to clutch at his friend, as he tottered almost in a swoon. The noise below grew sevenfold. “Down! He has smitten Mermaza!” Imbi was again at his post. A closed carriage had lumbered in at the gateway, the horses panting and steaming. The pontiff started in turn, when he saw a young man leaping from the driver’s platform, still clutching tightly his long whip. “Isaiah the son of Shadrach, and lifting Ruth the Jewess from the carriage! Why this tumult? Some fearful deed!” The minister had recovered and stood at the pontiff’s side. He was again self-possessed. “Let me know with what the Lord God has visited me,” was all he said, and waited silently, as a breathless young priest rushed up to his superior, never so much as salaaming. “Master! a frightful outrage. The royal eunuchs have pursued these fugitives past the boundary stones to our very gates. They attempted violence, and now clamour without, demanding their prey!” Imbi turned very deliberately, took his white peaked tiara from the divan, and set it on his head. “Gross sacrilege, indeed, Merdovah; impossible that his Majesty should authorize such violence!” More priests and students were howling in the yard below: “Away with the eunuchs! To the canal with them! Avenge the insult!” “Master,” remonstrated the messenger, “except you quiet the temple folk, expect a riot. They are maddened and furious.” Imbi leaped upon the divan beside the balcony. “Below there, silence! What is this tumult?” The voice of the superior produced instant stillness. “You there, Hasba, speak for all. Why is this carriage here, and these eunuchs?” The priest addressed, a gaunt, athletic man, stepped forth from the crowd of fellows clustered around the gate.