Then he told the tale all Babylon knew so well, how when the mighty Nebuchadnezzar hardened his heart in kingly pride, madness smote him, and made him no better than the beasts, till after living seven years thus humbled, he came to himself, and knew that the Most High was above all kings. And by the time the tale was ended the silence was so great, that even the sputtering torches were loud to hear. Daniel stood directly before the dais; the chains rattled as he stretched forth a finger, and pointed into the king’s face.
“But you, O Belshazzar, have not humbled your heart, though you knew all this; but have lifted yourself up against the Lord of Heaven; and they have brought the vessels of His house before you, and you, and your lords, and your women have drunk wine in them; and you have praised the gods of silver, of gold, of brass, iron, wood, and stone, which see not, nor hear, nor know; and the God in whose hand your breath is, and whose are all your ways, you have not glorified. Then was the hand sent from Him, and this writing was written.”
The finger pointed toward the glowing characters upon the wall. “And this is the writing that was written: ‘Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin.’ And this is the interpretation: ‘Mene’—God has numbered your kingdom and finished it. ‘Tekel’—you are weighed in the balances and are found wanting. ‘Upharsin’ which is otherwise ‘Peres’—your kingdom is divided and given to the Medes and the Persians.”...
... A fearful cry was rising; captains were on their faces, groaning to Samas, to Istar, to Ramman: “Save! Save from the wrath of Jehovah!” The workings of Belshazzar’s features were terrible to behold. Thrice he strove to speak,—his lips moved dumbly. Then, as the king looked, lo! another wonder. The fiery words were gone, and only the shattered plaster showed where they had burned. “Woe! Woe!” all were moaning; but the vanishing of the letters gave back to Avil his courage. He leaned over, whispering to the king. In an instant Belshazzar uttered a hideous laugh.
“Good! By Istar, the Jew has me fairly on the hip! Clever jugglery, I swear, to contrive a trick that could chase the blood from the cheeks of the stoutest captains of the Chaldees! Show me the conjurer; I will pardon and reward. A clever jest, my princes, a clever jest.”
The shout died away in profound silence. The king grasped a goblet once more. “By Nabu, the jest is so well played, you still wander for wits. Daniel must have reward. Ho! Mermaza; the robe of honour and the chain of gold. Off with these rags and fetters. Behold in Daniel the third prince of the kingdom. Set a new seat on the dais. A health to his Highness!” He drained the cup, then in a darker tone, directly at the Hebrew: “This is the promised reward. But when at midnight I quit the feast, if your prophecy is not fulfilled, you die the perjurer’s death, for mocking thus your king.”
Daniel answered nothing. The eunuchs pried off his fetters, put on him the robe and the golden chain. They set him in a chair beside Belshazzar, offering a jewelled goblet. He took it, tasting only once. Avil had risen, in vain effort to fuse the company with the same mad merriment affected by himself and the king.
“I congratulate Prince Daniel, my colleague in government! Another health to him, and to our ‘ever-to-be-adored’ Queen Atossa. Strike up, harpers; raise the triumph hymn to Bel once more.”
With reluctant fingers the musicians smote harp and zither, the choir of priests and maidens lifted quavering voices,—sang a few measures,—the weak notes died away into ghastly stillness. Every eye crept furtively up to the square of shattered plaster. Then, as if in desperation, and bound to hide his mastering fears, a “captain of a hundred” motioned to a eunuch.
“Wine, fellow, wine, heady enough to chase these black imps away! Let us drink ourselves to sleep, and forget the portent by the morning.”