“How, then, shall the great king reward him?”
“Let the Jew take three talents of gold,” answered the councillor, and Cyrus nodded approval.
“So be it. Son of Shadrach, you shall have as Prince Harpagus has said.”
“The king jests with his servant,” and again the Hebrew looked downward.
“Not so, on the inviolable pledge of a king of the Aryans!”
“Your Majesty,” Isaiah spoke very rapidly, as if to escape repentance for his boldness, “if I rescue Prince Darius from his dungeon—what reward then?”
The eyes of the Jew were very bright. They could see he was hanging on the king’s every word. Cyrus had lifted his hand in an oath.
“The man who saves Darius shall enter my treasure-house in Ecbatana, where are stored the jewels taken from the Assyrian by Cynaxares the Mede, and bear thence his own weight in precious stones, though he take rubies and diamonds only!”
They who watched Isaiah saw him sweep his hand, as if in high disdain.
“Keep the jewels, O Cyrus!” cried he, nigh passionately. “I have not come to sell my service like a huckster, to bargain for gems or gold. Yet would you truly see Darius free?”