Istar of Babylon: A Phantasy

by Margaret Horton Potter

  VIII

  BABA

  Next morning, just as the sun rose over the city, Charmides opened hiseyes. If ever Charmides could be said to be lighter of heart, brighterof face, and cheerier of spirit at one time than another, it was in thevery early day. The smell of the dawn, its peculiar, charming freshness,that penetrates to the very heart of the most crowded city, was as lifeto his soul. To-day, when he went forth for his solitary stroll by theedge of the canal, the air, unbreathed and dewy as it was, brought himas usual a sense of undimmed delight.

  As he walked, scarcely heeding the rows of ungainly flat-boats drawn upalong the edge of the canal, or the small army of scavenger-dogs thatslept the sleep of the hungry near them, Charmides dreamed. This,indeed, was a matter of course. The morning and the sunlight would havelost half their beauty had not the thought of Ramua been in his heart.To-day his pure pleasure in her was a little tainted by the impressionthat last night's revelation had made upon him, in the not very clearsense of right and wrong that it betrayed in her whom he loved. Yet hehad absolute confidence in his influence over her; and, as he returnedto the house, no premonition of the new trouble disturbed his happytranquillity.

  Upon recrossing the threshold of the outer room an unwonted sight methis eyes. It was still early: so early that neither the girls norBeltani would, ordinarily, have been about. Yet here was Bazuzu, sittingnear the door-way, bare-shouldered, while Baba bent over him, deftlyapplying a paste of bruised onions and sesame to the two blood-incrustedwounds in the slave's back. Bazuzu sat dumb and patient beneath thegentle hands; but Baba's face was drawn, and the tears rained from hereyes as she worked. Beholding them, Charmides uttered an exclamation:

  "Apollo! What is it, Bazuzu? What has happened?"

  There was no answer. Bazuzu did not even look up. Baba gave the Greek awretched little glance, compressed her lips, and bent over her taskagain with a stifled sob.

  "Baba! Bazuzu! Tell me!"

  Still they were silent. But as the rhapsode, more and more bewildered,was about to question them more intelligently, the slave, lifting hiseyes for an instant, muttered, indistinctly:

  "To him that sleeps too well by night Nebo grants little knowledge."

  "Stop, Bazuzu! I will not have thee speak so!" cried Baba, instantlyresenting the suggestion.

  "What is this that you say?" And Charmides, who had but half caught theslave's words, moved closer to him. Then, suddenly, a new idea struckthe rhapsode. His heart shot downward for one sickening instant.Speaking very slowly, out of his dread, he asked: "Ramua--where is she?"

  Baba sobbed again; and Charmides, with a great cry, sprang to her sideand laid a fierce hand on the child's shoulder. "Ramua!--Ramua! Where isshe?"

  Baba raised her eyes and made a sidelong gesture towards the door of theother room. Charmides followed the look, and he almost laughed withrelief to see Ramua standing there in the door-way, looking at him. Shewas just as usual: her hair smoothly coiled and bound about her headwith strips of bright cloth; her feet shod with wooden sandals; herragged tunic fitting her slender figure closely. But Ramua's eyes werered--far more red than Baba's. She was not, however, weeping now.Charmides thought her tears for Bazuzu, and he went to her withsympathetic phrases on his tongue and comforting tenderness in hisheart. It was a shock, then, when she shrank from his approach andturned her head away. Baba, watching them both, read both their hearts;but her tightened lips let no sound escape them.

  By the time that Bazuzu's shoulder was bandaged and bound up, andCharmides, stung to silence, had seated himself on his bed and bowed hishead, Beltani bustled forth from her chamber, her face beaming, herwhole manner breathing busy cheerfulness. As she called a loud greetingto Charmides, the youth started up in hopeful astonishment. Beltani wason her way up-stairs to the roof, however, to begin preparations forbreakfast; and no one spoke as she left the room. Ramua seated herselflistlessly on Bazuzu's bed, and Baba presently went to her and sat downat her side. Bazuzu, after moving vaguely about for a few minutes,crossed suddenly to the far corner and drew out the basket of flowers,now arranged in small nosegays, and sprinkled, as usual, with freshwater. At sight of them Ramua gave a faint groan, and Charmides, hearingit, jumped suddenly to his feet, strode across the floor, and confrontedthe two girls in a manner that showed his temper:

  "Baba--Ramua--I know not my fault. Before I leave you, then, you shalltell me what it has been. Speak to me!"

  Ramua's only reply was to droop her head a little lower; but Babaanswered and said: "There is no fault in you, Charmides. Our trouble isnot yours."

  "What, then, is your trouble? Why is it not mine? Your mother smilesto-day. Is it Bazuzu, then?"

  "Nay."

  "Then what? What? Will you never tell me?"

  "If thou wouldst know--Ramua is to be sold to-day--at a goodly price.Therefore our mother smiles."

  Baba spoke in a stupid, matter-of-fact tone, and Charmides heard herstupidly. "Ramua to be sold!" he repeated. "Ramua to--be----RAMUA!" heshouted. "RAMUA! Speak to me! Apollo! My lord! Tell me what this thingis! Tell me that this woman speaks lies to me! Apollo!"

  As understanding finally came home to him, he broke into his own tongue.Ramua's gentle, dog-like eyes were lifted for an instant only to his. Inher glance Baba's words were corroborated. Charmides knew from her lookthat the thing was true. Then he suddenly went forward and took her intohis arms.

  "Ramua," he said, brightly, "I love thee. Thou shalt be my wife."

  Then at last her resignation was broken through, and she caught himwildly about the neck. Clinging to him, she gave forth a long, wailingsob that seemed to have no end. Baba, white and choked, moved from herplace and aimlessly crossed the room to where Bazuzu crouched, nervouslytwisting a rosebud in his hand. Tight and yet more tightly Charmidesheld her whom he loved; and in that close embrace peace came upon themboth. It would take more strength than my Lord Ribata had to part thesetwo now.

  At this juncture some one came upon the scene--not Ribata, but Beltani.At the sight that met her eyes her harsh face lost its light, andCharmides was made aware of her presence by a stinging blow on the backof the neck. With the strength of a strong man she tore him away fromRamua's close embrace, thrust the girl back upon Bazuzu's pallet, andlifted her hand again to strike the Greek in the face. Charmides caughther by the wrist. Then they confronted each other, the wide, blue eyesblazing into the small, glittering, black ones. The woman's look did notfalter. She seemed to have in her no sense of shame. Then Charmides,suddenly flinging her off from him, spoke two words in such a tone as henever again used towards a woman:

  "Thou fiend!"

  For a second Beltani cringed; but she recovered herself. With anunconcern that to the rhapsode was incomprehensible, she presently said,addressing the room generally:

  "The food is ready. If any would eat, let him come up-stairs." Then,turning on her heel again, she retreated to the roof.

  Not a single one of the four left behind her, disregarded the summons.Such was Beltani's peculiar power. Baba, Bazuzu, and Ramua, went fromfear. Charmides followed them, out of a sense of prudence--the prudencewhich told him that Ramua could only be protected if he were permittedto remain in the household. He knew also that her one chance of escapewas through him; as perhaps her single desire to escape was on hisaccount. Therefore, with a superhuman effort, he forced himself to blandattention to Beltani throughout the meal, during which the entire storyof the adventures of the past night was recounted at length. Charmides'horror at what Ramua had been through was equalled by his shame andself-reproach at having slept while she, with Bazuzu and Baniya, hadstood almost at his side. He made no comments on the tale. Only, whenBeltani concluded her recital with the information that at sunset onthis very day Ribata would come in person to bring the gold and to takeRamua away, Charmides, seeing the girl's shiver of dread, met her lookwith a smile that sent the first glow of hope back to her heart. TheGreek had made a very simple and feasible plan, as it seemed to him.Ramua would go forth that mor
ning as usual with her flowers, while hewould set out towards the temple of Sin. But at nightfall, when Ribataarrived at the tenement Ut, with his manehs of gold to exchange for asoul, Ramua, for the first evening of her life, would not be under hermother's roof. Rather he, Charmides, her husband, would keep her out inthe city, wherever he chose to lodge, rightfully and lawfully, and withher full consent; for there was no doubt that the priest of Sin would bequite willing to tie the marriage-cord about their wrists for such a sumas the Greek could afford to pay out of the still unemptied bag of hisfather.

  Truly it was a pretty scheme, and an easy--so obviously easy, indeed,that it happened to occur to Beltani also, and she so arranged mattersthat Baba was detailed to sell the flowers on the steps of the temple ofIstar, while Ramua remained at home under her mother's eye. When, at theusual hour for the departure of the workers, this forethought wasdisplayed, Charmides began to realize his helplessness. There seemednothing to do but to go forth as usual to the temple, to do his workthere, to fill out the day as he might, and to trust to the love ofApollo to preserve her whom he loved from the fate that hung over her.Between now and sunset were ten round hours. Cities had been taken inless time than that, did one but know how to set about it. But there wasthe rub. The only thing that seemed left to do--go to Ribata himselfwith an appeal--was a manifest absurdity. Charmides knew enough ofBabylonish character for that. And even had Ribata's reputation as aroue and a roisterer not been what it was, still, the notion that hecould be prevented by a mere nobody from acquiring a beautiful slave insuch a simple manner, was something that a man of Charmides' own racewould never have thought of. Ramua knew this as well as Charmides. Shesaid good-bye to him in the door-way of the tenement Ut, her motherbeside her, and Baba just behind. There was no more than a long look andhis miserable whisper:

  "At sunset I will be here."

  He knew that she quivered at the mere mention of that hour. Then heturned abruptly away, and she could only watch him go.

  Charmides went straight from the bank of the canal to the temple of Sin,by a much shorter way than that that held so many happy memories forhim. He must accustom himself now to take his walk in solitude. Neverbefore, however, had he realized what a dreary distance it was. The citylay about him, spread out in all its filth, ill-kept, teeming withnaked, half-starved children, noisy with mongrel dogs, rattling withbuffalo-carts. He saw to-day only the wretchedest and ugliest sights.His own heart responded to the wails of every child throughout theendless walk; but he reached the temple a half-hour before his usualtime.

  The mercy-hour had not yet come. A sacrifice, however, was in progress,and the officiating priest called to him to play while the augurs begantheir work. He saw the goat quartered and its flesh cooked, while theentrails, which had been removed, were carefully examined for anyspecial omen of good or of evil for him who offered the sacrifice. Whenthis was over the Greek retired alone to the sanctuary, where, from thesacred image, he was to listen to the plaints of those that came to seekaid in trouble. How vain that quest was he knew too well. Yet, becausethis was a consecrated place, the Greek knelt to his own fair god, andprayed as a man prays once in his life, for Ramua, her honor, and hishappiness.

  When finally a priest came to him and opened the door in the back of thestatue, Charmides' heart was a little lighter. He ascended quickly intohis place, where he could look through the eyes of the god and speakthrough its mouth to those who knelt before it. Presently came a womanwith a sick child in her arms. No conjurer had been able to help her, nogod would take pity on her. Charmides told her a charm that could notfail, mentioned the price of the information, and sent her away. Thenfollowed in rapid succession a stream of men and women, each with a taleof misery. By this time the Greek knew the types by heart, and, while hepitied, he was wearied by them. Which of them all had a heart as sore ashis to-day? Alas! Could they have known that their god himself stood inthe shadow of despair's black wings, would they have departed from himserene in faith, and so confident in their new-found wisdom?

  However, when half the allotted mercy-time was over, there came onesuppliant who, for a moment, took the Greek's thought from himself. Aman, entirely muffled in a dark mantle, his head covered with such acloth as desert-travellers wear, entered the secluded place before thestatue, prostrated himself thrice before it, finally lifted his head,and, throwing the embroidered cloth back from his face, clasped hishands in the attitude of abject supplication. Charmides started to findhimself gazing into the deep-blue eyes of Belshazzar, the prince royal.

  "May Sin look mercifully upon me from the high place," began thesuppliant, according to the ritual.

  "Mercifully looks Sin upon them that approach him with humble hearts."

  "Father Sin, bring peace to my heart!"

  "Child of Sin, peace is to thee."

  "Hear thou the woe of my spirit. Heal me, and guard me from pain."

  "I hear thee. Speak."

  Here the suppliant began in his own words, and Charmides listenedeagerly to him; for Belshazzar, priest as he was by birthright, was notoften to be found at the mercy-seat of a god in whom, in his own heart,he could have no faith. How far he had been initiated into the monstrousdeceits of the church, however, the Greek could not tell. And he nowspoke with a humility of which Charmides had not deemed him capable.

  "Great Sin, lord of men, father of Ishtar the divine, hear and pity me!Tell me, I beseech, wherein I have angered the great gods? I haveoffended my goddess. With me my goddess is exceeding wroth. I kneel downbefore the gate-way of the temple of Istar, and am not admitted to her.I am become unholy in her eyes. I may no more pass over the threshold ofE-Ana. The Lady Istar knows me not. O god, her father, hear my prayer,that I may learn how I shall placate the great goddess thy child! Howmay I again in peace behold her? Bring answer, O god, to my prayer!"

  Once more Belshazzar touched his brow to the floor, while Charmideswatched him in amazement. For the moment he forgot to listen to theprompting words of the priest at his elbow. But when, after half aphrase, the fellow stopped and was silent, Charmides turned to look athim, and remained fixed in astonishment. The under-priest was in thethroes of a frenzy such as the Greek had never seen before. Belshazzar,kneeling below, waited anxiously for his answer, while the oracle couldonly stand there, helplessly, looking at the priest who trembled andshook so violently that his joints were threatened with dislocation.Presently, after a long stillness, when the suppliant had become not alittle impatient, there came from the mouth of the Zicari words thatwere not of his making, spoken in a deep and sonorous voice with whichCharmides was quite unfamiliar:

  "Belshazzar, be not disturbed. The heart of Istar undergoeth change.Thine hath she been; thine will be. In time, of her own will, she willseek thine aid. Then, by the might of thine arm, shalt thou protect her;and cherish her unto the end. Yet a little while and that end cometh forboth. Therefore go forth in peace, and wait her will."

  Silence followed these words, and Belshazzar, trembling with strangeemotion, touched his brow to the floor, and rose, and went his way.Charmides turned from him back to the priest, who stood beside him in anormal attitude, and said, presently:

  "Reply thus to the suppliant: 'Thou must sacrifice to the Lady Istar, inher temple, fifty fat oxen and one hundred goodly lambs. By this shaltthou be brought back into the favor of Istar, the child of my heart. Sinhath spoken. Arise. Go thy way.'"

  And Charmides, wondering more and more, repeated the words, as he wasbidden, to the empty air. The temple of Istar had lost a hecatomb; butBelshazzar had, perhaps, been won to faith in his native gods.

  At the end of the mercy-hour the Greek left the temple as usual, andwent forth into the streets. He did not turn to the square of Istar. Itwere too miserably empty for him to-day. Rather he set off in anotherdirection, wandering drearily along. And how the long hours of noon andthe afternoon slipped away, he hardly knew. His unhappiness took no heedof time; for, all of a sudden, time had become worthless to him. It wasjust one hour to suns
et when he turned his steps southward towards thecanal of the New Year.

  Meantime, while the Greek had wandered through unfamiliar quarters ofthe city, Baba had sat all day on the steps of the temple of Istar, withRamua's flowers in her lap. Of the three young people who passed thoseunhappy hours in brooding over the general misfortune, it was theyoungest that endured most, and had suffered most acutely. Baba had toreview the situation of her family always hopelessly for herself,sometimes not without hope for the cause of her sister and Charmides.Child as she was, Baba loved Charmides with a love to the heights ofwhich Ramua could not have risen. For, for the happiness of him whom sheloved, the woman-child was willing to renounce him, to give him up toanother, though by that act her own life was spoiled forever. From thefirst moment of seeing Ramua and Charmides together, she, with the quickperception of one who loves unloved, had foreseen the end. Never once,after the night of their first meal on the roof of the tenement, had sherebelled at this fact. Her resignation was absolute. It had even been alittle comfort to her to dream of her sister's happiness, of the weddedhome in which she, Baba, might hold a definite place. That she mightcontinue to see Charmides, and to hear his voice day by day, was allthat she had asked. But now it seemed that this, too, might be takenfrom her. She saw Ramua, a slave, secluded deep in the labyrinth ofRibata's inaccessible palace; Charmides departed, in his grief, back tohis dim, distant home; herself and her mother left alone, to toilthrough the endless days, living only on the memories of a doubtfulhappiness that was hopelessly gone.

  It was at this juncture in her imaginings that Baba began to rebel.Ribata should not have her sister, though he perished by her own handthere in the tenement of Ut. This resolve she made at a little pastnoon; and she looked up from the vow to find my Lord Ribata about threefeet away, regarding her.

  "By Nebo, maid," said he, "thou art not she who came last night into mygarden!"

  "Nay, verily, lord."

  "Yet these be the flowers that my hands plucked for her who becomes mineto-day. Who art thou, girl?"

  "Baba, I," was the answer, as the child lifted her elfin face anddog-like eyes to the man.

  "Baba! And she--the pretty one--is Ramua. What is she to thee?"

  "A sister."

  "Ah! And you sell her flowers while she waits at home for me! Then giveme of my roses, Baba, and I will pay for them."

  As he spoke, he picked two crimson-petalled blossoms from the tray,tossed a shekel into the girl's lap, and passed on, laughing, while Babastared after him, just realizing the opportunity that had come--andgone. Had she only killed him as he stood before her there, with thelittle weapon that she carried always in her girdle, who, in theexcitement of the moment, would have thought of her family? She wouldhave been carried off at once before the royal judges, have beenspeedily condemned, and probably taken straight from the court to herdeath. But to kill Ribata in the tenement was a different matter. Itwould implicate every member of her family: Charmides, as well as Ramuaand her mother. Undoubtedly some desperate chance must be run to-day,but how or when Baba did not know. It would probably be left for theexigencies of the sunset hour.

  That hour was approaching. Baba watched it come, dreading it as much asdid Charmides, and more than Ramua. Ramua, indeed, had been singularlydull all day. The grief that she suffered was not poignant. It was asheavy and as lustreless as only despair can be. The fact that this washer last day of youth, of freedom, of love, of maidenhood, her last dayin her home, the last day, in fine, of the life she had been born to,was something that overwhelmed her completely, and made sharprealization impossible. She followed her mother obediently about thehouse. She bathed the wounds of Bazuzu, who hid his face from her touch.And the only tears that she shed were over Zor, Baba's goat, which hadstayed at home to-day, and had eaten its noon meal from her hand. At thetouch of the creature's tongue Ramua gave way for a few seconds. But sherecovered herself quickly, and presented an impassive face when, a fewminutes later, her mother came down from the roof.

  Ramua also watched the sun; but in her case it was more to know when shemight be expecting Charmides than anything else. Baba and the Greekarrived somewhat before the time, within five minutes of each other.Baba had a scolding because four of the flower bouquets remained in herbasket unsold. She made her peace by producing Ribata's silver shekel,forbearing, however, to tell who had bestowed it upon her. After thislittle, indecisive skirmish, there was stillness in the lower room ofthe tenement of Ut. All the family, Zor included, were gathered theretogether. Ramua sat at Baba's side on one of the beds. Beltani kneltnear the door-way, grinding sesame in a mortar. The slave Bazuzu wove onat his baskets; while Zor lay comfortably at the feet of Charmides, who,very pale and silent, sat on his pallet on the darkest side of the room.

  The sun reached the horizon line--and passed it. The evening flung outher victorious banners of purple, crimson, and gold. Still no Ribata.Ramua lifted her head at short intervals, to look across the empty spacethat stretched out from the open door. Charmides' heart palpitated sothat breathing became difficult. There seemed to be a hope on which hehad not calculated. Ribata might have repented of his bargain and notcome for the girl. This idea occurred to Beltani also, perhaps, forpresently she rose from her labor, set the grain-jar aside, and hurriedout of the door to look down the lane towards the canal. When shere-entered the room the look of smug satisfaction on her face was easyto read. Charmides' heart ceased to beat as she bustled over to Ramua,stood her up, examined her with the greatest care from head to heels,fastened in a flying lock, saw that her poor tunic was straight, andthat the garland on her head contained no withered leaf--for this mightbe considered a most unfortunate omen. She was still fingering herdaughter when there was a clatter of yellow wheels outside, a prancingof glossy steeds on the hard pavement, and Ribata, in his mostresplendent chariot, drew rein at the door of the tenement of Ut.

  Beltani's pride knew no bounds. She saw in her heart how every soul inthe neighborhood was eagerly peering out from its corner to look at herdoor, where, this time, no mere steward-collector of rent had stopped,but my lord of them all, in golden attire, was come to pay them a visit.As he dismounted from the vehicle and entered the room, Beltani wasnearly on her knees to him, though Ramua, from her dark and shadowycorner, shrank back as far as she could. Charmides, scowling bitterly,and so pale that his face made a white spot in the gloom where he sat,clenched his two fists, but made no sound. Bazuzu's fingers dropped fromhis work, while he craned his neck to examine the enemy.

  Ribata saluted his hostess in his most elegant manner, asked carefullyafter her welfare, wished her health and fortune in the name ofBel-Marduk, and then casually, without too much interest, inquired forthe object of his quest.

  "The fair one, the Lady Ramua, the flower of my heart, let mine eyesbehold her, O mother of lilies!" said he, with a manner that matched hiswords.

  "Ramua!" called Beltani, gently--"Ramua, greet thy lord!"

  The girl, trembling like a frightened rabbit, the fire of despairburning in her large eyes, rose from her place and came haltingly downthe room. Never, perhaps, had she been more beautiful than in thiswretched hour. Charmides knew it. Ribata, who watched her every move,gave perceptible signs of pleasure. Bowing before her as he might havebowed to the queen of Babylon, he lifted one of her cold and unresistinghands to his lips. It had scarcely reached them when, with a suddennessthat startled Ribata, Ramua's hand was snatched away. She was pushedviolently backward, and my Lord Bit-Shumukin found himself eye to eyewith Charmides of Doric Selinous.

  The Greek was choking with rage, with excitement, with biting jealousy.For a moment after his act he could not speak. Ribata regarded him withfrowning amazement. He said nothing, however, till Charmides, with aconvulsive breath, opened his lips and began, very quietly:

  "My Lord Ribata--"

  "Knave!" thundered my lord, finding his voice. "Out of my way!" Helifted his hand to strike, but Charmides rather nonplussed him byawaiting the blow without a movement. He merel
y stood, white-faced andunflinching, looking Ribata in the eyes.

  "My Lord Ribata," he repeated, still more gently, "I beg you as a man,as one of the judges of the Great City, to hear me. This lady whom youwould purchase for gold to be your slave is my promised wife."

  "Are you wedded?" asked Ribata, quickly.

  "No, no, no!" screamed Beltani, shrilly, hurrying forward.

  "No," admitted Charmides, with that extreme of calm that held Ribata'sattention in spite of himself. "No. She is but my promised wife."

  "He lies, my lord!"

  "But can I see her whom I love taken from me without one word? Nay,verily, it must be over a lifeless body that Ramua goes to you."

  It was all the plea that Charmides could make; yet perhaps it had stoodhim in good stead if Beltani had not been there. She, flashing-eyed andfuriously angry, cried loudly:

  "My lord! My lord! This man lies! He is no suitor to my daughter. Sheshall not call him lord though you cast her away. I say it, and I am hermother. Behold, he came a stranger into my house, and I sheltered andfed him. Thus does he repay the charity. My lord, wilt thou take Ramua?"

  Ribata listened to her quite as attentively as to Charmides. Thesituation puzzled him not a little. Many and varied as his experienceshad been, he had never met with one like this. His official nature, asone of the judges of the royal court, came up and stood him in goodstead now. Having heard both sides of the case, he turned, forcorroboration of the one or the other, to the principal factor in thewhole matter--Ramua herself.

  "Maid, what sayest thou to all this? Wilt thou come to me in peace, andwillingly?" he asked.

  Ramua's answer was not encouraging to his hopes. She moved forward alittle, still trembling, the sudden hope of release lighting up her graypallor. She did not reply to the question in words, but sank to herknees on the floor at Ribata's feet, her hands upraised and clasped, thepleading in her face too easy to read. Not Beltani's daughter, this.

  Ribata gazed at her in pronounced admiration. Suddenly he coughed,turned on his heel, and began to pace up and down the narrow spacebefore the door, head bent, brows contracted. Charmides knew well enoughall that was in his heart, but he mightily feared the outcome of thedebate. Nevertheless, the very fact that there could be a debateconsiderably raised Ribata in his estimation. Even as he thought,Charmides prepared himself for a further and greater struggle. If Ribatadecided against him, if Ramua went forth with the man, it should be, ashe himself had said, over his, Charmides', dead body. Therefore hequietly loosened from its place the short, broad knife that hadtravelled with him from home, and with this in his right hand, lyingalong the under-side of his wrist, he stood leaning against the door,watching the death of the bright sunset in the west, the gay chariotwith its rearing horses in front of the door, and, finally, the group inthe room with him. No one spoke. Ribata alone moved.

  At length my lord's head gave a quick jerk, and he turned brisklytowards Beltani:

  "Mother of fair women, is thy daughter Ramua ready to follow me? Therelie in my chariot certain bags of golden coin that I have brought forthee; not that these could be any payment for a thing so priceless asthy child; but they shall go to show the love that I bear thee for hersake."

  Beltani grew radiant. Here, certainly, was no indetermination. "Ramua!"she cried. "Go thou instantly to my lord! He will take thee into theland of happiness."

  Ramua obeyed her mother's words by moving swiftly to Charmides' side,laying one light hand on his arm, and saying, quietly: "Behold my lord!Him will I follow forever, into Mulge and Ninkigal, or up to the silversky, as Marduk decrees."

  Charmides, looking into her face, smiled at her with his soul in hiseyes. Then he turned again to Ribata. "My lord," he said, "thou hearest.Thou wilt not take her from her heart; and her heart is with me."

  "By Nebo and Bel, I will take her!" cried Ribata, furious at last. "Do Inot buy her? She is my chattel. You, foreigner, can, at my word, beslain like a dog!" With a heavy stride, and a mien that had more thanmenace in it, he strode over to where Ramua stood cowering at Charmides'shoulder.

  He had put out his arm to grasp her, and the knife became visible inCharmides' hand, when suddenly there was a faint exclamation from theother end of the room, and a little figure came running forward, andprojected itself in a heap at Ribata's feet.

  My lord paused and looked down into an elflike face, with a pair ofwide-open, black eyes, and a little mouth of rosy hue, parted just so asto show a row of snowy teeth. Masses of unbound hair hung loosely aroundher head and neck. Beneath her tattered vestment the lines of aremarkably graceful little body could be discerned. Ribata, looking ather steadfastly for a moment, found something in her face that causedhis own to relax its unpleasant expression.

  "Thou art--Baba--!" he said, with a recognizable imitation of her way ofspeaking, and an ensuing grin at his success.

  "My lord remembers!" said Baba, with every appearance of coquettishdelight.

  Ribata laughed as he touched a scarlet rose on his embroidered tunic. "Iremember--sprite," he said.

  "My lord, I am Baba, the sister of Ramua. I have no lover nor husband.Behold, were my lord to ask it, I am my lord's. Let him take me inRamua's place for half the gold that he offers for her!"

  Ribata, Beltani, Ramua, most of all Charmides, stared at Baba in openamazement at her shameless suggestion. All of them judged her exactlyaccording to her words. Only one in the room guessed at the real reasonfor this unparalleled act, and he, knowing that reason, wept and lovedher. Bazuzu, who had long ago realized the great, concealed sorrow inher life, was capable now of appreciating her unbounded devotion, and inhis secret heart he hated Ramua for the innocent part that she played inthis pitiable drama.

  Ribata, his thoughts quite turned out of their angry channel, looked fora long time down into the lively, witchlike face, and finally a smileparted his severe lips.

  "Good Beltani, hearest thou thy daughter?"

  "My lord, I have heard her," returned the woman, in a subdued fashion,not sure that Baba had not found the real solution of their difficultproblem.

  "And thy words, woman?"

  "May my lord accomplish his will," she replied, disclaiming all furtherresponsibility.

  My lord, who by this time began to find himself not absolutely certainof his will, bit his lip and looked thoughtfully from Baba to Ramua, andback again. The goat-girl sat at his feet, curled up like a kitten, hereyes staring unwinkingly into his face, her lips pressed together inapparent anxiety. Her whole _ensemble_ struck Ribata as peculiarlypleasing. Ramua was hiding her face from his gaze, and certainly herfigure was not so graceful as that of her sister. Baba was not pretty,in the correct sense of the word; but Baba, he felt, would not weep foranother in his presence.

  "Straighten thy garments, bold one, and rise up. Thou shalt come withme," he said, suddenly, with a half shrug of the shoulders.

  Ramua quivered, whether with delight or displeasure she scarcely knew.At any rate, it was not to Baba that she turned. Baba was strange toher, all of a sudden; was some one to pity, perhaps, but also to beashamed for. Her good-bye to her sister was reluctant and very gentle,but not warm. Beltani, satisfied, now that one daughter had found wealthand the other a husband, kissed her little one light-heartedly. BlackBazuzu pressed his lips to each of her bare feet, feeling her quite asworthy of the homage as his sovereign could be. Last of all, on her wayout of the house of her childhood, Baba passed Charmides. His blue eyeslooked into hers for an instant with an expression of puzzled distaste.She had won for him his life's happiness. This was all his thanks. Babaknew his mind, and a dull, half-human smile crept over her face--a smilethat Ribata would not have thought pretty had he been watching her justthen. On the threshold of the door, however, Zor was standing; and asshe perceived her goat, which she had always loved better than she lovedherself, she suddenly seized the creature by its silken hair and gave ita wrench that drew from Zor a long bleat of indignation. Ribata,catching this proceeding on the part of his new posses
sion, laugheddeeply. Here, at last, was something original.

  Day had crept in upon Baba in her new home before, at last, she couldturn her face to the wall of her luxurious prison-house, and wail outher little agony alone, in the pale, golden light of the new dawn.