“I greet you well, you, and all these other venerable priests,” nodding to the company. “I have not forgotten that the revenues of Nabu have diminished. I have commanded that the treasurer deliver upon your request a hundred _gurs_[4] of barley and as many of millet, also I deed to you an estate of the crown near Erech of fifty ‘great acres’ of corn land.” “Blessing to the ever bountiful son of the gods!” chorussed the company, every head bowing again. “But I have come to make a request,” went on Belshazzar. “The king’s wishes are law,” smiled Imbi-Ilu. “He desires the supplications of his servants for the continuance of peace; be assured—” Belshazzar raised his hand. “I crave a smaller boon, that will not take these reverend men from their studies. There is in this temple a damsel—” Imbi-Ilu bowed yet again. “The king has spoken,—the Jewess Ruth.” “Be so good as to bring her forth immediately. I take her back to Babylon.” Imbi-Ilu repeated his salaam. “The king’s word is good. We are all obedience. Where is the letter from Daniel her father?” “The letter?” there was a dangerous flush on Belshazzar’s bronzed cheek; “I do not understand you, priest.” “Let not the king take anger,” returned the pontiff, calmly. “Who am I so bold as to remind him that only on command of the father can we give up a maid entrusted to us for asylum?” “Well,” affirmed Belshazzar, tossing his lordly head, “your learning, of a truth, teaches that the king is greater than the father; and it is the king who orders now.” There was a dead hush for a moment, every eye fixed on Imbi. His was the next move. “Your Majesty,” began he, firmly, “_I_ am but the meanest of your slaves; but as a priest it is not I that answer you, but Nabu the Wise, making use of my poor tongue.” And he met the haughty glance of the king with one as haughty. “Nabu cannot suffer you to take the maiden.” Belshazzar tugged at the sword upon his thigh. “No insolence,” he threatened; “I give you one moment to consider. Give up the wench peaceably, or my guardsmen drag her forth by force, and you away to prison, to answer charges of gross rebellion against my will.” Imbi turned to Hasba, the subaltern at his side. “Haste!” was the muttered command, “put the Jewess in the shrine behind the god’s own image.” Then, still boldly, he confronted Belshazzar. “Live forever, O king! This is my answer. If the king is bent on wickedness, let him proceed in person with one attendant, and search our precinct. If he find the Jewess, let him take her hence with his own hand. Let the soldiers remain without. So shall we be guiltless of resistance to your Majesty, and on your own head shall be all the anger of the god for this insult to his right of sanctuary.” Belshazzar had unsheathed his weapon.