The king surveyed the room one instant.
“We can defend this hall until the garrison may rally. There is still hope; drive forth this rabble, and barricade the doors!”
The guardsmen swept the eunuchs and women from the hall. They fled, the thunders of the gale, now at its height, drowning their moanings. Ever and anon the dying torches cast shadow while the lightnings glared. Then came the crash of the hail and rain, beating down the canopy, quenching half the lights, and adding gloom to terror. All this in less time than the telling. Belshazzar himself aided in piling the tables and couches in heaps against all the doors save one, through which the Chaldees were sullenly retreating, marking their pathway by the Persian dead. Once again Atossa leaped from her seat; despite her brave words to Ruth, more of this chaos would strike her mad. She slipped from the grasp of Khatin, and flew toward the entrance. For the instant all were too intent on their fearful tasks to heed.
“Darius! I come!” cried she, in her Persian, and a shout without was answering, when a clutch, mighty as Khatin’s, halted her. She was in Belshazzar’s own hands.
“Back, girl! I am still the king, and I command!”
But Atossa struggled desperately. “Away! Take me away!” rang her plea. “Slay this instant if you will, but I can bear no more!”
“Take her to the dais,” shouted the king to two guardsmen; “watch her preciously; her life is dearer to us now than gold.”
The two had need of their strength, but she was thrust again to her hated station. This time cords were knotted around her arms, and she was held fast. She looked to Daniel. There he sat, serene and silent, the only calm object in that scene of furies.
“Father,” she moaned, “pray to Khatin, to any, that they strike once, and let me die! All the dævas are loose and drive me mad!”
“Peace, my child,” he spoke mildly, yet amid all that storm she heard him; “we shall full soon know what is the will of God!”