“From the power of the king himself?” quoth Dagan, pricking up his ears.
“From Belshazzar’s own power,” assented the Jew, “but the manner is hid. I have another task, however, to-night. I must see Daniel himself. He has asked to see me.”
“Daniel himself? Daniel in prison? Are you mad?” almost shrieked the schoolmaster.
“I was never in sounder mind. Zerubbabel, my friend who brought the message, keeps the prison watch to-night. The eyes of the other warders can be closed with a little silver.”
Dagan argued and besought in vain. Away went Isaiah soon after nightfall, and Jehovah, or some other power who loves the bold, protected him. He had his hour alone with Daniel.
The dungeon of the palace prison was fetid, the straw damp, the only light that of a single shivering candle. At sight of his friend and all but father in chains and amid these squalid surroundings, the younger Jew burst into tears.
“Alas! my father,” was his cry, while he knelt for Daniel’s blessing, “what is this I see? What does the Lord God suffer? He who has served Him beyond all others, whose life has been naught but holiness, in the state of the vilest felon!”
“Peace!” commanded the old man, never more calm and majestic than now; “what is there to fear? Did God simply go with me when I was ‘civil-minister’ of Babylon, and cannot His goodness follow within this prison?”
“Ah! father,” protested Isaiah, “I do not doubt God’s power, yet how can I trust His mercy? First you, then Ruth, the guileless of the guileless, have been brought to bitter grief,—and lo! the wicked wax fat and prosper!”
“I know it well,” answered Daniel, his voice unfaltering; “but all is not yet ended. I have heard of the abduction of Ruth, of the malice of Belshazzar and Avil-Marduk against me; yet neither for myself nor for her have I any fear.”