But the Persian, stronger and maturer, raised her up, and held her head against her own breast.
“Peace, peace. Lamentation binds up no broken hearts, else would mine have ceased its grieving long ago.”
“Ah! merciful mistress,” cried the Jewess, falling again on her knees, “forgive your slave; what freedom is this that I have shown before your face? Forgive—”
“I forgive nothing; there is naught to be forgiven,” answered Atossa, with a wan smile. “We are equals in the wretchedness of our lot. Whether your plight or mine is worse, Ahura knows, not we.”
“Ah! God is weak,” groaned the Jewess, “else why has Belshazzar thus been suffered to blaspheme Him and to prosper? The king has hounded my lover from the city, has flung my father into a dungeon, and soon will take his life. Just before you came to us, Belshazzar said unto me, ‘Forget your Jewish god, my pretty, for I will teach the nations how helpless is the demon the Hebrews and Persians serve.’ Once I was strong, once I bade Isaiah risk all for our God, and count nothing for Him too dear. But now,—I am not of kingly blood, as you, O lady,—I can only know that to all seeming Marduk has conquered Jehovah.”
Atossa pointed from the window, beyond the green foliage of the “paradise” about the palace, beyond the ziggurats and the towering walls.
“How can these things be? I do not know. Ahura-Mazda is all-wise and all-good. That should suffice, were we but perfect as His ‘Ameshaspentas.’ But this I know: beyond those walls are Cyrus and Darius and Isaiah; and while those three live, let these Babylonish swine grunt their boastings, I know that hope is not ended.”
“But Cyrus departs. His princes disobey him, and turn against him.”
Atossa pointed again toward the window. “Cyrus departs? Little you know my father, or the princes of the Persians, and our Aryan fealty. Other kings have cried ‘victory’ when they warred with Cyrus—but those kings, where are they?”
“Then you still hope?” almost implored the Jewess.