war.

As the rich voices of the singers intoned the grand plain chant of the
last stanza in the hymn, the king was in the middle of the open space at
the foot of the staircase; there he drew rein and sat motionless on his
horse, awaiting the end. As the ripe corn bends in its furrows to the
wind, so the royal host around turned to the monarch, and fell upon
their faces as the music died away at the signal of the high priest.
With one consent the lords, the priests, the singers and the spearmen
bowed and prostrated themselves on the ground; the bearers of the
litters set down their burden while they did homage; and each of those
beautiful women bent far forward, kneeling in her litter, and hid her
head beneath her veil.

Only the king sat erect and motionless upon his steed, in the midst of
the adoring throng. The light from the palace played strangely on his
face, making the sneering smile more scornful upon his pale lips, and
shading his sunken eyes with a darker shadow.

While you might count a score there was silence, and the faint evening
breeze wafted the sweet smell of the roses from the gardens to the
king's nostrils, as though even the earth would bring incense of
adoration to acknowledge his tremendous power.

Then the host rose again and fell back on either side while the king
rode to the staircase and dismounted, leading the way to the banquet;
and the high priest followed him and all the ranks of the lords and
princes and the ladies of Babylon, in their beauty and magnificence,
went up the marble steps and under the marble porch, spreading then like
a river, about the endless tables, almost to the feet of the golden
image of Nebuchadnezzar. And presently, from beneath the colonnades a
sound of sweet music stole out again and filled the air; the serving-men
hurried hither and thither, the black slaves plied their palm-leaf fans
behind each guest, and the banquet was begun.

Surely, a most glorious feast, wherein the hearts of the courtiers waxed
merry, and the dark eyes of the Assyrian women shot glances sweeter than
the sweetmeats of Egypt and stronger than the wine of the south to move
the spirit of man. Even the dark king, wasted and hollow-eyed with too
much pleasure-seeking, smiled and laughed,--sourly enough at first, it
is true, but in time growing careless and merry by reason of his deep
draughts. His hand trembled less weakly as the wine gave him back his
lost strength, and more than once his f