2 In the month Nisan, in the twentieth year of Artaxerxes the king, when wine was before him, I picked up the wine, and gave it to the king. Now I had not been sad before in his presence. ² The king said to me, “Why is your face sad, since you are not sick? This is nothing else but sorrow of heart.”

Then I was very much afraid. ³ I said to the king, “Let the king live forever! Why shouldn’t my face be sad, when the city, the place of my fathers’ tombs, lies waste, and its gates have been consumed with fire?”