And ’tis to thee we owe this gift of fortune!
... You’re pale, Semiramis.
Sem. O king—
Nin. (Taking her hands) And trembling.
Dost fear my greatness? Nay, thou ledst my army—
Sem. O, if for that thou ow’st me aught, grant me—
Nin. Whate’er thou wouldst!
Sem. My brother, Artavan,
Is Husak’s captive! Thou canst save him!
Nin. I?
Then he is saved! But how! Tell me the way!
Sem. Husak will yield him up for Khosrove!
Nin. What
Send Khosrove back alive! Not though the gods
Commanded it! Alive! ’T was Husak slew
My father, and his son shall die! Ten years
I ’ve sought for this revenge! And give it up
For a green lad fresh from the fields of Gazim?
Sem. A warrior, sir, who ’ll win thee many a battle!
And crest thy glory with meridian stars!
He ’s worth the price though pity lent no coin!
Save him, my lord! A bridal boon I ask!
Give me my brother!