“It’s awful to be homesick,” she murmured, rather to herself than to Salome, who, without replying, ran on in front of her to a flight of steps at the end of the bridge. “This is one of the entrances to the Hanging Garden,” she explained, looking back. “We must hasten, lest my mistress calls for me.” Rachel followed her from terrace to terrace, too overwhelmed with delight at the glimpses of beauty she caught right and left to say a word. She saw that the whole garden was supported, tier above tier, by gigantic arches, and Salome told her each terrace was made of plates of lead, holding earth so deep that great forest trees could grow in it. If she had not known this, the whole place would have seemed to Rachel as though blossoming by magic in the heart of a forest growing in mid-air. She could scarcely believe it was not the work of some magician. By the time they reached the uppermost terrace, on a level with the city wall, she was not only breathless, but struck dumb by the beauty and wonder of everything round her. Mighty cedar trees spread their layers of branches between her and the burning blue sky. The air was perfumed with the scent from groves of lemon trees. Fountains tossed their sparkling drops high into the sunshine. Red roses swept in cascades from her feet down the slope to the terraces below. Along paths paved with tiles of sapphire-blue enamel, peacocks walked delicately with outspread tails, and far below, within its four-square walls, the city of Babylon lay glittering in such brilliant sunshine as in her own country she had never dreamt of, nor faintly imagined. And now, before she had time to recover from her amazement, a new sight was presented, for, coming slowly in her direction, but as yet in the distance, a group of people approached. In the midst of them, as the little procession drew nearer, Rachel saw a lovely woman leaning back in a litter slung between ivory poles and borne by four slaves. The litter was covered with silk hangings of a rich purple, and a fringed canopy of the same material supported on poles also of ivory, was held above the swinging couch by four dark-skinned girls. “The Queen Amytis,” whispered Salome, and Rachel drew back in sudden fright. “She will wonder who I am—and I shan’t know what to say,” she began, hurriedly. “I don’t know how to talk to queens.” “Have no fear, she will not see you. No one here sees you but me. That is the work of Sheshà, who is greatest of all magicians and has entrusted you to me, why I know not—nor do I know with any certainty who you are. But he has commanded me to be your guide here in Babylon. No one sees, no one hears you but I alone.”