It was indeed such a wail of bereavement and despair as was to rise hereafter through all its length and breadth in the land of the South, because of the terrible punishment that visited her people, "from Pharaoh that sat on the throne to the captive that was in the dungeon"—on that awful night, the climax of successive judgments, when "there was a great cry in Egypt, for there was not a house where there was not one dead."
As these long-drawn notes of woe swelled, sank, and swelled again, the king's first emotions of horror were succeeded by a fresh outbreak of wrath. It might have gone hard with the sorrowing herd of captives, and perhaps not one had been left to mourn for another, but that the old lion's fury, redoubled by its momentary check, was at this juncture wholly diverted and appeased. A burst of music, so loud, so full, so jubilant, that it drowned all other noises in its grand triumphant swell, announced the entrance of Semiramis; and like the Queen of Heaven rising from the dark back-ground of night, this Queen of Assyria, blazing in jewels, and robed in the light of her incomparable beauty, stood forth a shining vision from the black shadows of the gateway, to move with stately step and slow through long lines of admiring revellers, ere she made her royal obeisance before the throne of gold, where sat the Great King. While she traversed the lower end of the court, Assyria's chosen warriors, the goodliest men of all the East, rose from the board and bent them low in courtly reverence, like a bed of garden-flowers doing homage to the south wind as it passes by. With a mother's love and a queen's dignity, she laid her hand on the shoulder of her son Ninyas, while he bowed himself before her; but it was a feeling stronger than the one, and but little in accordance with the other, that bade her pause by the side of Sarchedon and whisper tenderly in his ear.
He started, colouring to his temples—two or three young warriors glanced enviously at their favoured comrade; but it was dangerous to observe too narrowly the motions of royalty, and each man fixed his eyes in deep humility on the hem of her garment as Semiramis moved proudly on.
Ninus stirred uneasily where he sat. He would fain have risen to meet his queen, and taken her in his gaunt embrace to the fierce old heart that knew no other want; but such an innovation was not to be thought of even by the conqueror of the East, and he could only reach towards her the golden sceptre that lay on a cushion at his feet.
While she pressed it to her fair white brow, there came a light in the old king's haggard face that told of the loving spark too often kindled but to be quenched in sorrow, the blind trust born to be betrayed, the fond unreasoning pride in another that goeth before a fall.
This final ceremony broke up the banquet. With loud peals of music, the king and queen, waited on by their personal attendants, betook them to their respective dwellings, between which ran the Euphrates, though under the broad river a tunnelled passage afforded free communication from one to the other. Arbaces and Sargon followed closely behind their lord, as Kalmim and her group of women accompanied the queen. Ninyas, pushing round a mighty flagon, called Sethos to his side, and swore he would not stir till midnight; an intention loudly applauded by many of the younger revellers, who gathered joyously round their prince. In the change of places that ensued, Sarchedon made his escape from the banquet, hastening through the outer gates to cool his brow in the night air, while he communed with his own perplexed aspiring heart.
The queen's soft breath seemed still upon his neck, her whisper thrilling in his ear. What could she mean? "Follow the shaft! Fly on, fly upward!" Was it possible? Could the stars have written for him such a destiny as these words seemed to imply, or was he deceiving himself like a fool? And how was this upward flight to be accomplished? A thousand wild impossible longings and fancies filled his brain, but shining calmly through them all, like the moon amidst clouds and storm-wrack veiling a troubled sea, rose the gentle image of the girl he really loved. Could he give her up? Must it so soon come to an end, this dream, so short, so sweet, so cruel in its hour of waking? At any risk he was resolved to see her once again; that very night, that very hour, before the gods had time to cast his lot for him without recall. He hurried, like a ghost, through the shadows of the silent courts towards the palace of Arbaces.
But Ninyas, while he filled cup and emptied flagon, by no means lost sight of those interests and pleasures which, in his royal opinion, constituted the chief advantages of his station as a prince. Sarchedon had not moved ten paces from his seat to leave the revellers, ere the king's son whispered to the king's cup-bearer, "Follow him, Sethos. A wise hunter never loses sight of his hound till he pulls down the deer."