"Ho! Lady Beltani! A dweller in Ut! And why, then, art thou here and not in thy lady's own spacious gardens?"
Bazuzu helplessly held out his flower-basket.
Ribâta seized it by the handle, and examined it and its contents. "These flowers—they go to beautify, no doubt, the person of the Lady Beltani?"
"My lord, they are sold by the Lady Ramûa, her daughter, who sitteth daily on the steps of the platform at the temple of Istar, that she may obtain bread-money for her mother. My lord knoweth well that the dwellers in the tenement of Ut know not gold."
"Ah! Ramûa, the flower-seller, is thy mistress' daughter?" demanded Belshazzar, stepping forward a little.
Bazuzu inclined his head.
"Then, Bit-Shumukin, unless the knave lies again, the gods favor thee well. Have her brought to thee, the Lady Ramûa. She is as fair a maid as any in Babylon; and as she has sold thy flowers—let her now pay for them."
Ribâta turned to his friend with interest in his face. "Do you laugh at me, Bit-Shamash, or is this thing so?"
"It is so, Ribâta. Send only for the maid, and see if Bel is not kindly disposed to thee."
"Send for her here? Now? Nay—the knave no doubt lies."