Ruth made a desperate effort to speak calmly. “You imagine I am handsome, and will fetch a great price as a slave. My father is in prison, but he has rich friends. They will pay any ransom you can ask within reason.” “You a slave?” howled Binit; “Istar forefend the thought! Do you think us as heartless as Ninkigal?” “By any god or demon you fear, if indeed you fear any,” implored the Jewess, “tell me, then, for what you have seized me?” Binit laughed and screamed again. “Verily, you _are_ affrighted. Why have we taken you? Because his Majesty loves you, to be sure.” Ruth was smitten dumb by her agony. Binit merely grinned through the gloom, and continued: “You are asking why we make for the river boat. Hearken, then. From the time my pious Gudea parted with Avil-Marduk, after most surly threats on the high priest’s part, somewhat has seemed needful to restore us to the king’s good graces; for since the examination of your most noble father—” A faint groan from the Jewess induced even Binit to forbear, and she changed her thread of narration. “Now, if we were to drive you straight to the palace, what would happen? Out would bustle my lord Mermaza, and take you from us, and away you would vanish in the king’s harem,—while we would be left with cold thanks and perchance a poor gift of five shekels. But my Gudea is rightly called ‘The Wise.’ His design is this: Tabni and I put you on a river barge, and embark, professing that you are my slave-maid. We take you up-stream to a quiet village near Sippar, where Tabni has a brother-in-law who will be hospitable. When we are well on our way, Gudea, who remains in Babylon, goes straight to the king. ‘Lord,’ he will say, ‘I can get you your Jewess. She is no longer at Borsippa.’ His Majesty questions, and Gudea will answer, ‘Lord, I cannot tell you where the maid is hidden, but pay me ten talents and I swear I can produce her.’ The king rejoices to get you thus cheaply; you will too rejoice, as soon as you learn the sweets of being his favourite; and we rejoice, dividing the riches. Surely, Gudea is a most wise man!” If a second groan from Ruth meant assent to this assertion, Binit was rewarded. Not iron, but ice, had entered into the young girl’s soul. She sat on the cushions, in helpless misery, while Gudea lashed and cursed at the horses. “But the seal—the letter from Isaiah?” Ruth at last plucked up courage to ask. “Ah!” chirruped Binit, “for that we must thank the excellent Tabni. Luck sent him a letter from Isaiah his way; and even you must confess that he imitated the hand cleverly, and cut a new seal that would pass in the faint light when we showed it to Imbi-Ilu.”