"And so," said Dagas, "in sorrow of his state, I sought to hearten him, and became his friend. To me he told his tale, in the truth whereof I may not vouch, for it brandeth him as madman, or else the saddest son of chance since tears were fashioned by the pitying gods."
Semiramis made no answer, but she raised her trembling hand, so that Dagas understood and spoke again:
"By night, by day, he pleaded with me, saying: I am Menon, Prince of the House of Naïri, whom Ninus hath crucified. Go, thou, unto my wife Shammuramat and tell her of this thing—tell her I swear it by her kisses on the temple steps at Ascalon! And if she doubt thee still, say thou of me, in her parting words, that the garment of her love hath gone, and the joy of the world is but as a cup of water spilled!"
The Bactrian ceased. Semiramis sat, silent, on the garden seat; no longer Queen of proud Assyria—Mistress of the World—but the woman, stripped of royalty and power; the woman, crouching in a huddled heap, whence two great eyes looked out and suffered; eyes which would have shrieked, had tongues been given them, yet staring now, in the terror of a stricken beast.
Through the gardens floated laughter—song—the tinkling mirth of zitherns softly played. On the night breeze ran the hum of Nineveh, joyous, flinging care to the seven winds; and a woman's heart was wondering at the strangeness of it all. Menon lived! Menon the Beautiful who had died in the glory of his youth! Yet Menon lived! Who, then, lay down with Habal in the vale of Hindu-Kush? Speak, Ishtar! Who?
No answer came, till Dagas, in tones of gentleness, told her how this man had journeyed out of Bactria and now lay hidden beyond the city wall; then Semiramis arose and spoke, though her voice was as the voice of some other woman, broken and unknown to her;
"Go, thou, with my servant Huzim and bring him in secret unto me."
She spoke no more, nor did she offer gold or gratitude to him who had proved devotion rare among the sons of men; yet the Mistress of the World bent down and pressed her lips to the hand of an humble warrior.
* * * * *
Huzim and Dagas came to the hiding-place where Menon lay, and the servant knew not his master, because of his shrunken form and the hair which grew upon his cheeks and chin; yet in Huzim's arms the master lay sobbing out his joy, till the servant knew, rejoicing that the dead had risen up to live again.