"Why not? Why not?" Sanballat was again upon his feet, and shook his fist in the face of Marduk, as if the guest were the hated Tobiah. "Why not? Because"—he fairly shrieked out his spleen—"because he is an Ammonite. Moab must have the ascendency in this land, so far as Persia allows either of us to rule. The blood of every man of Moab would turn to adder's poison if Tobiah were anything higher than the servant of Sanballat."
"Then prevent him."
"Prevent him! I shall, or may the fire of Chemosh burn me! But, good Marduk, tell me how you would do it?"
"Why, by offering better alliance with the priests myself. The rising man in Jerusalem is Manasseh. He is grandson of Eliashib, the high priest. He is as astute as Nehemiah, and more popular. If the Tirshatha does not come back, Manasseh will be proclaimed governor. If Nehemiah should return, Manasseh, by virtue of his priestly rank, must be the man of his right hand."
"Grandson of Eliashib? Then he is still young, and unmarried."
"Yes."
Sanballat took a long turn about the apartment. Seating himself again, he put his head close to Marduk's.
"You have seen my daughter?"
"I have heard of her beauty. It is famed everywhere. Good blood will come to the cheek as well as put strength into the arm. They say she is a sprig of yourself, my Lord Sanballat."
"Woe to the man that should say differently," replied the Moabite, feeling the flattery. "Is Manasseh comely, well built, strong; or a sleek priest that dare not draw a knife but on a bullock?"