“Oh, kind, handsome, generous lord!” she entreated, “do not sell to Egypt. See, I am wounded; I cannot work; I shall die under the whip!”
“Now, by the Maskim,” swore the giant, “this is the first time for long I have been ‘kind or handsome’ to man or maid!” And he with his fellows brayed together with laughter.
“Pity us,” thrust in Tabni, stretching forth his hands beseechingly. “I cannot labour. Alas! I am old; soon I must make my peace with Ea, and prepare to die.”
But as he spoke, a bandit leaped forth before the rest. “Do you not know me, Tabni, you half-blind coney?—Eri-Aku the Elamite, whom you drove into this life by your false accusations of murder. Great mercy if I do not commit murder in truth! Give me leave, comrades—”
He brandished his sword over the quivering charmer’s head, but his companions plucked him back, while the leader set eyes on Ruth.
“Comely for a swart peasant maiden,” he remarked, “but her limbs are frail as lily stems. She cannot work.”
“Deliver her to me, noble captain,” suggested Eri-Aku; “my hut in the marshes needs a likely wench like her.”
The blood came tingling into the Jewess’s face, and crimsoned almost under her reddened skin, as the Elamite’s words and leer smote her. But the captain shook his head.
“All captives must be sold for the good of the band. She goes to the Arabians like the rest.”
Binit commenced to bawl out something to the effect that this was no ordinary serving-maid, and that the king would give for her riches untold. But alas for the wailer’s craftiness, Ruth looked anything but the favourite of Belshazzar, thanks to the cosmetic; while to Binit’s signs and grimaces to her to declare herself, she answered not one word.