“I will see who is monarch in Borsippa, you, Imbi-Ilu, or I!” sounded his menace. “Forward, soldiers; brush these priests aside! Search the place from pinnacle to cellar; and woe to you,” with a scowl at the temple folk, “if you withstand.” But Imbi-Ilu stepped before the gate, where the escort was thronging, and the lances tossing threateningly. “Hear, ye! Hear, ye! soldiers of Babylon!” rang the pontiff’s voice; “ere you obey the command of Belshazzar, hearken to the divine law, revealed to Sargon I. in a dream sent him from Nabu, and confirmed by the kings Sin-iddina and Sennacherib, ‘Let him who enters the precinct of the “Eternal House” be devoted to the Maskim forever. Let his sons perish, his daughters remain unmarried, his cattle starve, his enemies prosper, his soul eat mud in the “Abode of Torment.”’ You have heard the ordinance of the god and of the king; obey you which you list—Nabu or Belshazzar!” And as he spoke, the lines of priests moved steadily forward, until they formed a solid rank across the entrance way, denying all ingress. “Advance, men!” thundered the king; “out swords; hew these rebels down, and make a pathway over them, if such is their mad wish!” But not a soldier advanced. The priests confronted Belshazzar stolidly. Again the king commanded; again mute disobedience. Presently Igas-Ramman the captain took a cautious step forward and saluted. “Let the king’s heart find peace; in other things the soldiers do his least bidding, but they cannot massacre these holy priests in the god’s own house.” “Well, then,” cried Belshazzar, sending a glance of burning anger through the captain, “be it so. I think the ‘king of Sumer and Akkad’ has might enough to hale forth a simpering Jewess. As for you, Imbi, in due time I will teach you how foul was the day when you made a foe of me. Who is there who will go with me, and seek out the maiden?” Not a captain advanced, but into the gate strode a towering giant, Khatin. “Here am I, your Majesty,” he announced pompously; “we go together, the headsman and the king!” “Good, then. Let us find this wench without delay.” The array of priests opened for the twain. Imbi ceremoniously walked beside the monarch, offering no suggestions, but courteously leading wherever the king desired. They searched the college buildings, the quarters of the _kali_, the eunuch priests, of the zikari, the “female-recluses,” the houses of the married priests, and the great storerooms. Their quest ended in nothing but mortification for Belshazzar. Vainly he threatened and commanded Imbi-Ilu. The pontiff only protested that his lips were sealed—the guilt of outraging the asylum must rest on Belshazzar alone. The king was nigh to returning to the gateway discomfited, when a whisper by Khatin made him turn to Imbi-Ilu. “One thing more,” he ordered. “Lead me to the sanctuary on the crest of the tower. We have not yet searched through _that_.”