“Of the Tower of Babel I know nothing but its name,” said Salome, shrugging her shoulders. “It stood doubtless long ago. But this is a new temple built, as they say, on its ruins. It is of seven colours, because each of the seven planets has a different colour, so the wise men who study the stars declare. And within the temple there stands a golden image of the god Belus, and a golden altar upon which the priests burn frankincense and all sweet scents in honour of the god.” “But the queen said the wise men watch the stars there?” “Even so. At night on the topmost storey of the tower, the priests study the sky. They are great astronomers, and have learnt wonderful things about the heavenly bodies, all of which are written down so that their knowledge may not be lost to people who live after them.” “Then I suppose that’s how _we_ began to know about the stars,” thought Rachel. “Through these people who lived here in Babylon thousands of years ago.” It was very strange to think of this, and strange also, and sad, to remember that what Salome called “the new temple” was now nothing but a heap of half-buried ruins! And, yet, there in some magic way lay Salome before her eyes, her anklets tinkling when she moved, and her little face full of life. And there sat the lovely queen, surrounded by her maidens in their transparent robes! And the cedar trees murmured overhead, and from the groves of lemon trees sweet scents were blown, and below lay the marvellous city. Rachel grew so confused that it was with difficulty she could prevent herself from saying aloud all she was feeling. And this, as somehow she knew, would be the greatest possible mistake. “The queen is sad because the king is away, isn’t she?” The question was put hurriedly, in case she should betray herself. “Yes. Our great King Nebuchadnezzar is in Egypt, fighting against his enemies. May he be preserved! The queen longs for tidings of him.” Just at that moment the sound of quick footsteps on the blue tiled path, behind the queen’s chair, made Rachel turn her head. A slave was running in haste along an upper terrace. The queen also turned and half rose from her throne-like seat as the messenger, drawing near, threw himself face downward on the ground before her, and then, rising and bowing low, put something into her hand. “A letter, perchance, from the king,” whispered Salome eagerly. “A letter?” repeated Rachel, looking with curiosity at the strange object. It certainly bore no resemblance to the letters she knew, for it looked something like a thin square brick, and though it had an envelope, that envelope was made of _clay_ instead of paper, and had a seal upon it. [Illustration]