The king unwillingly turned his eyes towards the fiery furnace, and from
his elevation he could see its interior. He suddenly sprang to his feet,
lifted his hands on high, and exclaimed, in affrightened tone:

"O ye gods, what do I behold! What do I behold, O ye gods!" Then, turning
to his nobles, he exclaimed: "Do I fancy, or is it real? Turn your eyes
on yonder flames! In their midst what behold ye? Speak!"

The nobles tremblingly replied:

"We see men walking unhurt in the midst of the fire, O king!"

"It is even so!" cried the monarch, in deep agitation. "It is not a
delusion! It is a marvelous reality! But did we not cast in three men
bound? And I see four men loose walking in the midst of the fire, and
they have no hurt! And the form of the fourth is like unto a son of the
gods! Arise, let us hasten to the spot!"

The king, attended by a number of his nobles, and surrounded by the royal
guard, was soon on his way towards the furnace. The thronging masses
divided to give way to their sovereign. There were but few there that
knew the cause of the king's agitation. Those who witnessed his
countenance attributed it to the awful death of Scribbo and Shagoth.

All eyes are fastened on the king. With a hurried pace he ascends the
steps of the furnace. He has nearly reached the top. He stops. Now the
vast assembly eagerly listen for a royal address. But why turns he not
his face toward the throng? Regardless of the swaying masses, he lifts
his hand on high--he speaks! Hark! "Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, ye
servants of the most high God, come forth and come hither!"