Feeling quite sure by now that she was invisible to all but the eyes of Salome, she ran to the back of the queen’s chair and watched her break the seal, and take out what it contained. This proved to be a small brick tablet. Upon it was carved some writing that was like, yet unlike, the hieroglyphics she had seen in Egypt, for the letters of which the writing was composed were wedge-shaped, with curious dots and arrow-heads every here and there between them. And then, smiling happily, the queen began to read the brick aloud. “_Unto Amytis, my queen whom I love, who loveth me_, say, _It is well with me._ With thee also may it be well.... Let the wife of the king, my lady, be of good cheer, for a messenger of good luck from Belus walketh beside the king of the world....” Still smiling, she looked round her at her maidens, who all bowed low and murmured together. “Our lord the king, may he live for ever.” “The great god Belus, as you hear, protects him!” exclaimed Salome, turning to Rachel. Suddenly the queen clapped her hands, and at the signal, her maidens snatched up the musical instruments they had laid aside, and their brown fingers began to sweep the strings of curiously shaped harps and lyres as they sang a chant of rejoicing.... The sun was setting, and as she lay stretched out upon the tiger skin, Rachel saw the city below her glowing like a heap of jewels within the casket of its walls. The broad river was washed with gold, and reflected in its depths she saw the purple and embroidered sails of the ships passing and repassing, as they brought gold and ivory, fine linen and precious stones, to enrich still further the magnificence of Babylon. The long line of quays formed a white, glittering fringe on either side of the river. In the gardens and open courtyards between the houses the palms and cedar trees and masses of flowers shone like coloured fire, and the great temple of Belus towering towards the sky, with its seven storeys of seven colours, might have been the enchanted palace of a magician. Rachel gazed and gazed as though she wanted to fix the vision of so much loveliness upon her mind for ever. But her last look after all was for the beauty of the garden in which she sat—the Hanging Garden that might well, she thought, be called one of the World’s Wonders! For the sun’s last rays lent an even greater magic to the lemon groves, to the leaping cascades which flowed from the upper terrace and were lost among the forest trees beneath; to the pyramids of gorgeous flowers and to the group of singing girls surrounding their lovely queen. Their gauzy robes were dyed with crimson light, the jewels on the queen’s head-dress and on the brown hands touching the harp-strings gleamed dazzlingly, and the voices of the singers mingled with the deep hum of voices floating upwards from the swarming multitudes below.