Isaiah held up his head haughtily. “I would indeed enter the service of a god—not of Bel-Marduk, but of Jehovah. I am a Jew, my lord.”
Avil smiled patronizingly. “Excellent youth, you are too wise to think I do not set your wish at true value. No offence, but where does Jehovah rule to-day? Fifty years long we have used the dishes from His temple at your village of Jerusalem, in our own worship of Bel-Marduk. Your god is helpless or forsakes you; no shame to forsake Him.”
Isaiah bowed respectfully. “Your lordship, we gain little by debate,” replied he.
“Nevertheless,” quoth Avil, blandly, “I am grieved to see a young man of your fair parts throw his opportunities away. Be led by me; what do you owe Jehovah? Bel-Marduk will prove a more liberal patron. You are Jew only in name, your birth and breeding have been in this Babylon. To her gods you should owe your fealty. Believe me, I speak as a friend—”
Isaiah straightened himself haughtily.
“My Lord Avil, do not think Jehovah is like your Bel, the god of one city, of one nation. For from the east to the gates of the sun in the west is His government. And all the peoples are subject unto Him, though the most part know it not.”
The high priest’s lip curled a little scornfully. “Truly,” flew his answer, “Jehovah displays His omnipotence in strange ways,—to let the one nation that affects to serve Him languish in captivity.”
“I fear many words of mine will not make your lordship understand,” replied Isaiah; and he bowed again and was gone. Those in the banking-house looked at one another.
“Sad that so promising a youth must cast himself away in fanatical devotion to his helpless god,” commented Itti the banker. “Yet he only imitates his father, Shadrach, the late royal minister.”