A little later the evening meal was announced, and, immediately after
they had eaten, Jezreel, Lo-ruhamah and the baby were told to go to
bed.

Their attendant, satisfied that the three children were fast asleep,
left the room and went about her business. Thereupon Jezreel got out
of bed, moved a chair near to the door, sat down and listened.

Below he heard his father's and mother's voices. Words were spoken in
a high, shrill tone, loud and harsh, but indistinct. There were short
periods of silence, followed by explosive sentences that sounded like
threats. If he could only understand what it was all about! But he
couldn't, until, finally all was silent in the room below.

Then Jezreel heard the street door close with a bang.

Going to the window that looked out into the street, Jezreel saw his
mother standing alone in front of the house. It was an unusually
moonlit night. Samaria, a beautiful city in the daytime, was a very
dark and gloomy place at night, except when the moon and stars reigned
in their glory in clear skies. This happened to be just such a night.

The yellow moon was reflected from the red-tiled housetops. In the
distance were the famous Samarian houses of stone and marble, dark and
foreboding against the moonlight. Above all the houses towered the
royal palace--in which Zechariah, Jeroboam II's son, had been king
since his father died, six months before--with its bright, gilded
domes, like a sentinel wearing a brass helmet.