“This is no answer, priest; obey the king! Do you refuse to surrender the wench? Think well before you reply—the king’s wrath—”
“Daniel,” remarked Imbi, turning his back on the eunuch, “is it your desire that your daughter go to the palace?”
“By all you revere, by our bonds of friendship, no!” The Jew started to fall on his knees, imploring. But Imbi faced Mermaza, with a lordly gesture.
“Go back to the palace, and say that I will send Ruth the daughter of Daniel hence, only on her father’s personal or written command. Low indeed is Nabu sunken if at barking of hounds of your litter he were to turn suppliants away!”
“The slave of the king—keep her at your peril!” threatened Mermaza, growing desperate, for his position was anything but enviable.
“A slave? When before in the royal harem? Where is the bill of sale from her father? Is she not freeborn?”
“She is a Jewess,—despiser of Nabu!” cried the eunuch, launching his last shaft. A yell of derision from all the priests answered him.
“Friend,” answered Imbi, smoothly, “you are so dear a companion to Avil-Marduk and he reverences Nabu so exceedingly, that these words drop indeed fitly from your lips.”
Mermaza swung about and faced Daniel and Isaiah.
“I see the pontiff is mad,” he shouted, his thick cheeks reddening. “Do you Jews hear reason. For this resistance to the royal decree you shall both rot in the palace dungeons unless the girl is yielded, and that instantly.”