The boatman flung off his garment, plunged overboard, and presently,—though it taxed all his art,—he was seen plashing alongside, upbearing the Jewess. She was unconscious when they laid her on the deck, and it was no easy matter to revive her. At the first gasps of returning life, Binit hastened her down into the little stern cabin, rejoicing all the while that, thanks to the excellence of the cosmetic, it had not yielded to the water, and the boatman could have discovered nothing.
“She is safe?” demanded Gudea, anxiously, when his wife reappeared, leaving Tabni down below.
“Safe, praised be Istar; but she must hate the king terribly to prefer suicide to his harem. How we must watch her! And remember the price,—ten talents, nothing less.”
“Nothing less,” assented Gudea; then he gave the master his promised bounty, and leaped ashore.
The hawsers were cast loose; the six sturdy boatmen thrust out their long sweeps, and worked the barge slowly into the current, where the soft night wind, puffing from the distant southern gulf, bellied out the huge square sail, and the barge began crawling northward over the black water. Soon it would be past the river gates, and furlongs away from Babylon. The exorcist stood watching the receding boat for a long time, from the deserted quay.
“Ten talents,” he repeated, “are ours as surely as Samas will rise with his sun to-morrow. Verily, O Gudea, the gods have planted in you a most clever heart!”
And then, being a very pious man, he vowed three white heifers to Marduk out of gratitude for this high favour.
