“To the favour of Sin, of Samas, of Marduk upon the house of Cyrus, and upon the noble Prince Darius!”
The pledge was drunk amid furious cheering and the clatter of wine-cups; and the king shouted, last of all:—
“To the peace betwixt Persia and Babylon, may it be firm forever!”
More applause. Mermaza was bowing before Atossa:—
“Dread lady, the feast is at an end. All the women will return now to the palace; but, after our custom, the king’s nobles will sit over their wine as long as they desire.”
Darius had not spoken to Atossa during the entire evening. But he knew that the end had come, and could not see her go without one word.
“My lord,” said he to Belshazzar, “I must say farewell to the Queen of the Chaldees. Henceforth she is Babylonian, not Persian. Into your hands I commit her. Yet, with your permission, I will speak with her—for the last time, before she enters your harem.”
“Say what you will,” came the careless answer.
Darius stood beside the princess’s chair. It was only for an instant. Why did his voice sound so harsh and metallic? Why did Atossa seem to fear to look him in the face?
“My lady,” said he, “I am at the end of my commission concerning you. I shall be in Babylon for some time upon your father’s business. But we shall see each other no more. Farewell; may Ahura the All-merciful grant you peace and every joy. And before all, may you learn to forget the name ‘Darius.’”