Semiramis made a wide detour to pass the lake, where she flung poor Habal's collar far into the deep--repented, and on the morrow dived and recovered it again. That night she sought her sleep with the bauble nestling upon her heart; but sleep came not, for her flesh seemed burned by every golden link. She hurled it from her angrily and was happy for a space, then stole from her couch and hunted till she found it in the dark.
When she had it, she hated it; but when she had it not, she longed for it with a gnawing, furious desire which ever increased in heat and magnitude; wherein it may be seen that Semiramis, though a goddess born, was human--and a woman--after all.
Meanwhile the Messengers of State were waiting patiently for Menon's answer to the King at Nineveh; yet the Governor bade them tarry on for yet a little while, and took to hunting from a vantage point on the back of his good steed Scimitar.
One morning Habal's barking caught his ear, so he followed the sound till he reached the spine of a high, adjacent hill. In the centre of a plain beyond he spied Semiramis, unarmed, and walking slowly; so his heart rose up as he patted Scimitar and loosed the rein. In the night he had vowed no more to plead his cause with a lowly mien, but would break this witch's spirit though he heat her with his fists.
Semiramis saw him coming, and her heart stood still. The lake was far too distant for a haven of retreat, and the plain was bare of bush or thicket through which she might elude pursuit. Should she stand and face him? Yea! By Ishtar, _no_! He then might fancy that she waited him--she--Semiramis! So she turned and fled.
The maid was fleet of foot, and skimmed the earth with the speed of a frightened fawn; yet her pace, alas, was a paltry match for the splendid stride of Scimitar. Behind her she heard the thunder of his hoofs, but louder still chimed out the notes of Menon's laughter as his joy gave tongue. He was nearer now! He pressed upon her flank! Then Menon bent and gathered up the maiden in his arms. She screamed and bit his hand; she scratched him, raining buffets on his face and breast; but he only; laughed the more, and kissed her on the mouth and eyes.
On, on they sped, with mighty leaps and bounds, for Scimitar knew not what manner of warlocks fought upon his back, so he took the bit between his teeth and ran as before he had never run, while the toiling Habal panted far behind.