“Behold,” spoke Belshazzar; “look on these gardens, the like of which is nowhere else in the world. They are given to you. This shall be your feast. These eunuchs are your slaves. We shall all eat of your bounty.” “The king is kind,” said the Persian, meekly. “What have I done that he vouchsafes such favour?” Belshazzar laughed before them all. “Done? Who demands of Istar anything save the brightness from her eyes and honey from her lips?” “True,” cried fifty at once; “there is no lady like Atossa, like Atossa, daughter of Cyrus.” Then Mermaza ceremoniously handed his mistress to the high seat beside the two couches prepared for the king and Darius. Now, in the feast that followed, Belshazzar bore himself as if all the world’s joy were summed up in that one night; he drank, laughed, jested, and went to no small lengths to make Darius as merry as he. But though the prince paid laughter for laughter, and played his part in the game of repartee, he never forgot that close by sat one for whose sake he would have braved the might of Belshazzar and all the host of the Chaldees. And Atossa laughed with her lips, but could not with her eyes. The Persians dared not glance at one another. How much better if Darius had never come on the embassy! It would now take so long to forget! During the feast the court poet came before Atossa, with a great orchestra of harpers and dulcimer players. The poet sang a marvellous song, full of all the flowery flatteries of the East, praising the princess:— “O light of heaven who hast come down to dwell among men, Thou art exalted in strength! Mighty art thou as a hyena hunting the young lamb! Mighty art thou as a restless lion! Thou art Istar, maiden of the sky! Thou art Istar, consort of the very Sun!” So the stately poem ran, and Atossa gave its author her thanks and a bracelet unclasped from her own white wrist. But Mermaza, who served her, noticed that she ate little of all the venison and fresh-caught barbel, of the pomegranates and grapes. And he shrewdly observed that Darius did scarcely better. At last the viands were borne away. Belshazzar turned to Mermaza. “Let them bring the drinking bowls,” he commanded. “Yes, my king,” was the answer; “and shall the sacred vessels of the gods of the nations conquered by my lord’s predecessors be filled, that we may drink to the health of the princess and the glory of Bel-Marduk?” “Bring, then, those from the sack of Nineveh, the spoils from the victory over Pharaoh Necho, and from the temple at Jerusalem.” But Atossa touched the king’s hand. “May my lord’s handmaid speak?” “Yes,” swore he, “though you ask the head of the chief prince of Babylon.” “Then do not bring the vessels sacred to the Jewish Jehovah. For though under different names, Persians and Jews alike worship one God.” Avil-Marduk, close by, was frowning; but Belshazzar answered graciously: “Is this not your own feast? Let Jehovah’s vessels lie in their coffers.”