Belshazzar tried vainly to meet the piercing eye of the Jew. His own voice was metallic, while he groped for words.
“Are you that Daniel, of the captive Hebrews, whom Nebuchadnezzar brought out of Judea?” Where were the king’s wits fled, that he asked this of the man so long known and hated? A stately nod was his reply.
“I have heard that the spirit of the gods is in you, and light and understanding and excellent wisdom. And now the wise men and astrologers have been brought to read this writing, and to interpret, but they could not. And I have heard that you can make interpretations and dissolve doubts.” The king’s voice faltered; he would have given a thousand talents not to be driven to speak the rest. “Now, if you are able to read the writing, and make known the interpretation, you shall be clothed in scarlet, and have a chain of gold about your neck, and be the third ruler of the kingdom.”
No response: Daniel looked straight upon Belshazzar, and again Belshazzar strove to shun the captive’s gaze.
“Will you not speak?” demanded the king. “Speak! or you are beaten to death!”
Was it triumph or pity that lighted the old Jew’s face? “Death? My times are in mightier hands than yours, O king. Answer truly—will you have me speak? For this is not the word of Bel.”
All saw Avil leap up, as if in creature fear; but Belshazzar at least faced Daniel steadily, with all save his eyes.
“Answer me truly—be it good or ill. But answer!”
The king stretched forth his hands to the Jew, imploring. The prophecy was fulfilled; Belshazzar the king supplicated Daniel the captive! The old man’s form straightened; he swept his gaze around that company, every eye obedient to his. His voice was low, yet in that silence each whisper swelled to loudness.
“Let your gifts be for another, O king; give your rewards to another, but I will read the writing to the king, and make known the interpretation.”