They reached the home of Simmas, and a dancing dog ran out, to spring upon them, barking joyously.
CHAPTER VIII
THEY THAT DEPART AND HE THAT IS LEFT BEHIND
Simmas, chief warden of the royal flocks and herds, was a venerable man both wise and strong, yet his heart was as water running before the will of his foster-child. Unto him the lovers brought the matter of their vows, concealing naught of the danger to themselves, nor the wrath of Ninus should he learn how they sought to flatter him and dim his eye. Gravely had Simmas listened, smiling indulgent smiles, though his heart was sore afraid for her whom he loved so tenderly; and, at length when the tale was done, he sighed and shook his wise old head.
"My son," said he, "there are valiant men who have hied them forth to capture beasts of prey with arrows and with spears; others, more reckless still, go armed with ropes and stones, yet never have I known of one who laboured to that end by tickling a lion's nose with straws."
"How know we, then," asked Semiramis, "that a lion may not be vastly pleased thereat?"
Poor Simmas was forced to laugh, for how could the man do otherwise, with two round arms clasped tight about his neck, a pink cheek nestled lovingly against his own? And thus his foster-child met every argument, twisting his threads of wisdom into ropes of foolishness, until, reluctantly, he gave them blessing, smiling through his tears.
"Down, Habal," cried Semiramis, "and lick thy master's hand." And the dog went down.
So it came to pass that the messengers went out from Syria and knelt to Ninus as he sat upon his watch-tower in the heat of a certain day. They bore him a missive which that Monarch read for the seventh time, then read again in sore perplexity, his fingers combing at his beard. It preened his vanity as by a feather-touch of truth, and joyed his nostrils with the unctuous odour of his own divinity—a point whereon his pride was prodded grievously of late.
At his failure in subduing Zariaspa, a whisper leaked abroad that Ninus was but a mortal, after all; and through his harshness unto those who toiled on the walls of Nineveh, the whisper swelled in volume and in frequency, till now it lay upon him in the hours of sleep. The voice of the people grumbled sullenly, or cried aloud because of the yoke of tax; yet, far more clamorous still, the whisper troubled at his heart, for a god once doubted is a god undone.