Salammbo

  Produced by John Bickers and David Widger

  Salammbô By Gustave Flaubert

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER I

  CHAPTER II

  CHAPTER III

  CHAPTER IV

  CHAPTER V

  CHAPTER VI

  CHAPTER VII

  CHAPTER VIII

  CHAPTER IX

  CHAPTER X

  CHAPTER XI

  CHAPTER XII

  CHAPTER XIII

  CHAPTER XIV

  CHAPTER XV

  CHAPTER I THE FEAST

  It was at Megara, a suburb of Carthage, in the gardens of Hamilcar. Thesoldiers whom he had commanded in Sicily were having a great feast tocelebrate the anniversary of the battle of Eryx, and as the master wasaway, and they were numerous, they ate and drank with perfect freedom.

  The captains, who wore bronze cothurni, had placed themselves in thecentral path, beneath a gold-fringed purple awning, which reached fromthe wall of the stables to the first terrace of the palace; the commonsoldiers were scattered beneath the trees, where numerous flat-roofedbuildings might be seen, wine-presses, cellars, storehouses, bakeries,and arsenals, with a court for elephants, dens for wild beasts, and aprison for slaves.

  Fig-trees surrounded the kitchens; a wood of sycamores stretched away tomeet masses of verdure, where the pomegranate shone amid the white tuftsof the cotton-plant; vines, grape-laden, grew up into the branches ofthe pines; a field of roses bloomed beneath the plane-trees; here andthere lilies rocked upon the turf; the paths were strewn with black sandmingled with powdered coral, and in the centre the avenue of cypressformed, as it were, a double colonnade of green obelisks from oneextremity to the other.

  Far in the background stood the palace, built of yellow mottled Numidianmarble, broad courses supporting its four terraced stories. With itslarge, straight, ebony staircase, bearing the prow of a vanquishedgalley at the corners of every step, its red doors quartered with blackcrosses, its brass gratings protecting it from scorpions below, and itstrellises of gilded rods closing the apertures above, it seemed to thesoldiers in its haughty opulence as solemn and impenetrable as the faceof Hamilcar.

  The Council had appointed his house for the holding of this feast; theconvalescents lying in the temple of Eschmoun had set out at daybreakand dragged themselves thither on their crutches. Every minute otherswere arriving. They poured in ceaselessly by every path like torrentsrushing into a lake; through the trees the slaves of the kitchens mightbe seen running scared and half-naked; the gazelles fled bleating on thelawns; the sun was setting, and the perfume of citron trees rendered theexhalation from the perspiring crowd heavier still.

  Men of all nations were there, Ligurians, Lusitanians, Balearians,Negroes, and fugitives from Rome. Beside the heavy Dorian dialect wereaudible the resonant Celtic syllables rattling like chariots of war,while Ionian terminations conflicted with consonants of the desertas harsh as the jackal’s cry. The Greek might be recognised by hisslender figure, the Egyptian by his elevated shoulders, the Cantabrianby his broad calves. There were Carians proudly nodding their helmetplumes, Cappadocian archers displaying large flowers painted on theirbodies with the juice of herbs, and a few Lydians in women’s robes,dining in slippers and earrings. Others were ostentatiously daubed withvermilion, and resembled coral statues.

  They stretched themselves on the cushions, they ate squatting roundlarge trays, or lying face downwards they drew out the pieces of meatand sated themselves, leaning on their elbows in the peaceful postureof lions tearing their prey. The last comers stood leaning against thetrees watching the low tables half hidden beneath the scarlet coverings,and awaiting their turn.

  Hamilcar’s kitchens being insufficient, the Council had sent themslaves, ware, and beds, and in the middle of the garden, as on abattle-field when they burn the dead, large bright fires might be seen,at which oxen were roasting. Anise-sprinkled loaves alternated withgreat cheeses heavier than discuses, crateras filled with wine,and cantharuses filled with water, together with baskets of goldfiligree-work containing flowers. Every eye was dilated with the joy ofbeing able at last to gorge at pleasure, and songs were beginning hereand there.

  First they were served with birds and green sauce in plates of red clayrelieved by drawings in black, then with every kind of shell-fish thatis gathered on the Punic coasts, wheaten porridge, beans and barley, andsnails dressed with cumin on dishes of yellow amber.

  Afterwards the tables were covered with meats, antelopes with theirhorns, peacocks with their feathers, whole sheep cooked in sweet wine,haunches of she-camels and buffaloes, hedgehogs with garum, friedgrasshoppers, and preserved dormice. Large pieces of fat floated in themidst of saffron in bowls of Tamrapanni wood. Everything was runningover with wine, truffles, and asafotida. Pyramids of fruit werecrumbling upon honeycombs, and they had not forgotten a few of thoseplump little dogs with pink silky hair and fattened on olive lees,—aCarthaginian dish held in abhorrence among other nations. Surprise atthe novel fare excited the greed of the stomach. The Gauls withtheir long hair drawn up on the crown of the head, snatched at thewater-melons and lemons, and crunched them up with the rind. TheNegroes, who had never seen a lobster, tore their faces with its redprickles. But the shaven Greeks, whiter than marble, threw the leavingsof their plates behind them, while the herdsmen from Brutium, in theirwolf-skin garments, devoured in silence with their faces in theirportions.

  Night fell. The velarium, spread over the cypress avenue, was drawnback, and torches were brought.

  The apes, sacred to the moon, were terrified on the cedar tops by thewavering lights of the petroleum as it burned in the porphyry vases.They uttered screams which afforded mirth to the soldiers.

  Oblong flames trembled in cuirasses of brass. Every kind ofscintillation flashed from the gem-incrusted dishes. The crateras withtheir borders of convex mirrors multiplied and enlarged the images ofthings; the soldiers thronged around, looking at their reflections withamazement, and grimacing to make themselves laugh. They tossed the ivorystools and golden spatulas to one another across the tables. They gulpeddown all the Greek wines in their leathern bottles, the Campanian wineenclosed in amphoras, the Cantabrian wines brought in casks, with thewines of the jujube, cinnamomum and lotus. There were pools of these onthe ground that made the foot slip. The smoke of the meats ascended intothe foliage with the vapour of the breath. Simultaneously were heardthe snapping of jaws, the noise of speech, songs, and cups, the crash ofCampanian vases shivering into a thousand pieces, or the limpid sound ofa large silver dish.

  In proportion as their intoxication increased they more and morerecalled the injustice of Carthage. The Republic, in fact, exhausted bythe war, had allowed all the returning bands to accumulate in the town.Gisco, their general, had however been prudent enough to send them backseverally in order to facilitate the liquidation of their pay, andthe Council had believed that they would in the end consent to somereduction. But at present ill-will was caused by the inability to paythem. This debt was confused in the minds of the people with the 3200Euboic talents exacted by Lutatius, and equally with Rome they wereregarded as enemies to Carthage. The Mercenaries understood this, andtheir indignation found vent in threats and outbreaks. At last theydemanded permission to assemble to celebrate one of their victories,and the peace party yielded, at the same time revenging themselves onHamilcar who had so strongly upheld the war. It had been terminatednotwithstanding all his efforts, so that, despairing of Carthage, hehad entrusted the government of the Mercenaries to Gisco. To appoint hispalace for their reception was to draw upon him something of the hatredwhich was borne to them. Moreover, the expense must be excessive, and hewould incur nearly the whole.

  Proud of having brought
the Republic to submit, the Mercenaries thoughtthat they were at last about to return to their homes with the paymentfor their blood in the hoods of their cloaks. But as seen through themists of intoxication, their fatigues seemed to them prodigious and butill-rewarded. They showed one another their wounds, they told of theircombats, their travels and the hunting in their native lands. Theyimitated the cries and the leaps of wild beasts. Then came uncleanwagers; they buried their heads in the amphoras and drank on withoutinterruption, like thirsty dromedaries. A Lusitanian of gigantic statureran over the tables, carrying a man in each hand at arm’s length, andspitting out fire through his nostrils. Some Lacedæmonians, who had nottaken off their cuirasses, were leaping with a heavy step. Some advancedlike women, making obscene gestures; others stripped naked to fight amidthe cups after the fashion of gladiators, and a company of Greeks dancedaround a vase whereon nymphs were to be seen, while a Negro tapped withan ox-bone on a brazen buckler.

  Suddenly they heard a plaintive song, a song loud and soft, rising andfalling in the air like the wing-beating of a wounded bird.

  It was the voice of the slaves in the ergastulum. Some soldiers rose ata bound to release them and disappeared.

  They returned, driving through the dust amid shouts, twenty men,distinguished by their greater paleness of face. Small black felt capsof conical shape covered their shaven heads; they all wore wooden shoes,and yet made a noise as of old iron like driving chariots.

  They reached the avenue of cypress, where they were lost among the crowdof those questioning them. One of them remained apart, standing. Throughthe rents in his tunic his shoulders could be seen striped with longscars. Drooping his chin, he looked round him with distrust, closing hiseyelids somewhat against the dazzling light of the torches, but whenhe saw that none of the armed men were unfriendly to him, a great sighescaped from his breast; he stammered, he sneered through the brighttears that bathed his face. At last he seized a brimming cantharus byits rings, raised it straight up into the air with his outstretchedarms, from which his chains hung down, and then looking to heaven, andstill holding the cup he said:

  “Hail first to thee, Baal-Eschmoun, the deliverer, whom the people ofmy country call Æsculapius! and to you, genii of the fountains, light,and woods! and to you, ye gods hidden beneath the mountains and in thecaverns of the earth! and to you, strong men in shining armour who haveset me free!”

  Then he let fall the cup and related his history. He was calledSpendius. The Carthaginians had taken him in the battle of Æginusæ,and he thanked the Mercenaries once more in Greek, Ligurian and Punic;he kissed their hands; finally, he congratulated them on the banquet,while expressing his surprise at not perceiving the cups of the SacredLegion. These cups, which bore an emerald vine on each of theirsix golden faces, belonged to a corps composed exclusively of youngpatricians of the tallest stature. They were a privilege, almost asacerdotal distinction, and accordingly nothing among the treasuresof the Republic was more coveted by the Mercenaries. They detested theLegion on this account, and some of them had been known to risk theirlives for the inconceivable pleasure of drinking out of these cups.

  Accordingly they commanded that the cups should be brought. They werein the keeping of the Syssitia, companies of traders, who had a commontable. The slaves returned. At that hour all the members of the Syssitiawere asleep.

  “Let them be awakened!” responded the Mercenaries.

  After a second excursion it was explained to them that the cups wereshut up in a temple.

  “Let it be opened!” they replied.

  And when the slaves confessed with trembling that they were in thepossession of Gisco, the general, they cried out:

  “Let him bring them!”

  Gisco soon appeared at the far end of the garden with an escort of theSacred Legion. His full, black cloak, which was fastened on his head toa golden mitre starred with precious stones, and which hung all abouthim down to his horse’s hoofs, blended in the distance with the colourof the night. His white beard, the radiancy of his head-dress, and histriple necklace of broad blue plates beating against his breast, werealone visible.

  When he entered, the soldiers greeted him with loud shouts, all crying:

  “The cups! The cups!”

  He began by declaring that if reference were had to their courage, theywere worthy of them.

  The crowd applauded and howled with joy.

  He knew it, he who had commanded them over yonder, and had returned withthe last cohort in the last galley!

  “True! True!” said they.

  Nevertheless, Gisco continued, the Republic had respected their nationaldivisions, their customs, and their modes of worship; in Carthagethey were free! As to the cups of the Sacred Legion, they were privateproperty. Suddenly a Gaul, who was close to Spendius, sprang over thetables and ran straight up to Gisco, gesticulating and threatening himwith two naked swords.

  Without interrupting his speech, the General struck him on the head withhis heavy ivory staff, and the Barbarian fell. The Gauls howled, andtheir frenzy, which was spreading to the others, would soon have sweptaway the legionaries. Gisco shrugged his shoulders as he saw themgrowing pale. He thought that his courage would be useless against theseexasperated brute beasts. It would be better to revenge himself uponthem by some artifice later; accordingly, he signed to his soldiers andslowly withdrew. Then, turning in the gateway towards the Mercenaries,he cried to them that they would repent of it.

  The feast recommenced. But Gisco might return, and by surrounding thesuburb, which was beside the last ramparts, might crush them against thewalls. Then they felt themselves alone in spite of their crowd, and thegreat town sleeping beneath them in the shade suddenly made them afraid,with its piles of staircases, its lofty black houses, and its vague godsfiercer even than its people. In the distance a few ships’-lanternswere gliding across the harbour, and there were lights in the temple ofKhamon. They thought of Hamilcar. Where was he? Why had he forsakenthem when peace was concluded? His differences with the Council weredoubtless but a pretence in order to destroy them. Their unsatisfiedhate recoiled upon him, and they cursed him, exasperating one anotherwith their own anger. At this juncture they collected together beneaththe plane-trees to see a slave who, with eyeballs fixed, neck contorted,and lips covered with foam, was rolling on the ground, and beating thesoil with his limbs. Some one cried out that he was poisoned. All thenbelieved themselves poisoned. They fell upon the slaves, a terribleclamour was raised, and a vertigo of destruction came like a whirlwindupon the drunken army. They struck about them at random, they smashed,they slew; some hurled torches into the foliage; others, leaning overthe lions’ balustrade, massacred the animals with arrows; the mostdaring ran to the elephants, desiring to cut down their trunks and eativory.

  Some Balearic slingers, however, who had gone round the corner of thepalace, in order to pillage more conveniently, were checked by a loftybarrier, made of Indian cane. They cut the lock-straps with theirdaggers, and then found themselves beneath the front that facedCarthage, in another garden full of trimmed vegetation. Lines of whiteflowers all following one another in regular succession formed longparabolas like star-rockets on the azure-coloured earth. The gloomybushes exhaled warm and honied odours. There were trunks of treessmeared with cinnabar, which resembled columns covered with blood. Inthe centre were twelve pedestals, each supporting a great glass ball,and these hollow globes were indistinctly filled with reddish lights,like enormous and still palpitating eyeballs. The soldiers lightedthemselves with torches as they stumbled on the slope of the deeplylaboured soil.

  But they perceived a little lake divided into several basins by wallsof blue stones. So limpid was the wave that the flames of the torchesquivered in it at the very bottom, on a bed of white pebbles and goldendust. It began to bubble, luminous spangles glided past, and great fishwith gems about their mouths, appeared near the surface.

  With much laughter the soldiers slipped their fingers into the gills andbrought them to the tabl
es. They were the fish of the Barca family, andwere all descended from those primordial lotes which had hatched themystic egg wherein the goddess was concealed. The idea of committinga sacrilege revived the greediness of the Mercenaries; they speedilyplaced fire beneath some brazen vases, and amused themselves by watchingthe beautiful fish struggling in the boiling water.

  The surge of soldiers pressed on. They were no longer afraid. Theycommenced to drink again. Their ragged tunics were wet with the perfumesthat flowed in large drops from their foreheads, and resting both fistson the tables, which seemed to them to be rocking like ships, theyrolled their great drunken eyes around to devour by sight what theycould not take. Others walked amid the dishes on the purple tablecovers, breaking ivory stools, and phials of Tyrian glass to pieces withtheir feet. Songs mingled with the death-rattle of the slaves expiringamid the broken cups. They demanded wine, meat, gold. They cried out forwomen. They raved in a hundred languages. Some thought that they were atthe vapour baths on account of the steam which floated around them,or else, catching sight of the foliage, imagined that they were atthe chase, and rushed upon their companions as upon wild beasts. Theconflagration spread to all the trees, one after another, and the loftymosses of verdure, emitting long white spirals, looked like volcanoesbeginning to smoke. The clamour redoubled; the wounded lions roared inthe shade.

  In an instant the highest terrace of the palace was illuminated, thecentral door opened, and a woman, Hamilcar’s daughter herself, clothedin black garments, appeared on the threshold. She descended the firststaircase, which ran obliquely along the first story, then the second,and the third, and stopped on the last terrace at the head of the galleystaircase. Motionless and with head bent, she gazed upon the soldiers.

  Behind her, on each side, were two long shadows of pale men, clad inwhite, red-fringed robes, which fell straight to their feet. They had nobeard, no hair, no eyebrows. In their hands, which sparkled with rings,they carried enormous lyres, and with shrill voice they sang a hymn tothe divinity of Carthage. They were the eunuch priests of the temple ofTanith, who were often summoned by Salammbô to her house.

  At last she descended the galley staircase. The priests followed her.She advanced into the avenue of cypress, and walked slowly through thetables of the captains, who drew back somewhat as they watched her pass.

  Her hair, which was powdered with violet sand, and combined into theform of a tower, after the fashion of the Chanaanite maidens, added toher height. Tresses of pearls were fastened to her temples, and fell tothe corners of her mouth, which was as rosy as a half-open pomegranate.On her breast was a collection of luminous stones, their variegationimitating the scales of the murena. Her arms were adorned with diamonds,and issued naked from her sleeveless tunic, which was starred withred flowers on a perfectly black ground. Between her ankles she wore agolden chainlet to regulate her steps, and her large dark purple mantle,cut of an unknown material, trailed behind her, making, as it were, ateach step, a broad wave which followed her.

  The priests played nearly stifled chords on their lyres from time totime, and in the intervals of the music might be heard the tinkling ofthe little golden chain, and the regular patter of her papyrus sandals.

  No one as yet was acquainted with her. It was only known that she led aretired life, engaged in pious practices. Some soldiers had seen her inthe night on the summit of her palace kneeling before the stars amid theeddyings from kindled perfuming-pans. It was the moon that had made herso pale, and there was something from the gods that enveloped her like asubtle vapour. Her eyes seemed to gaze far beyond terrestrial space. Shebent her head as she walked, and in her right hand she carried a littleebony lyre.

  They heard her murmur:

  “Dead! All dead! No more will you come obedient to my voice aswhen, seated on the edge of the lake, I used to through seeds of thewatermelon into your mouths! The mystery of Tanith ranged in the depthsof your eyes that were more limpid than the globules of rivers.” Andshe called them by their names, which were those of the months—“Siv!Sivan! Tammouz, Eloul, Tischri, Schebar! Ah! have pity on me,goddess!”

  The soldiers thronged about her without understanding what she said.They wondered at her attire, but she turned a long frightened look uponthem all, then sinking her head beneath her shoulders, and waving herarms, she repeated several times:

  “What have you done? what have you done?

  “Yet you had bread, and meats and oil, and all the malobathrum of thegranaries for your enjoyment! I had brought oxen from Hecatompylos;I had sent hunters into the desert!” Her voice swelled; her cheekspurpled. She added, “Where, pray, are you now? In a conquered town,or in the palace of a master? And what master? Hamilcar the Suffet, myfather, the servant of the Baals! It was he who withheld from Lutatiusthose arms of yours, red now with the blood of his slaves! Know you ofany in your own lands more skilled in the conduct of battles? Look! ourpalace steps are encumbered with our victories! Ah! desist not! burnit! I will carry away with me the genius of my house, my black serpentslumbering up yonder on lotus leaves! I will whistle and he will followme, and if I embark in a galley he will speed in the wake of my shipover the foam of the waves.”

  Her delicate nostrils were quivering. She crushed her nails against thegems on her bosom. Her eyes drooped, and she resumed:

  “Ah! poor Carthage! lamentable city! No longer hast thou for thyprotection the strong men of former days who went beyond the oceans tobuild temples on their shores. All the lands laboured about thee, andthe sea-plains, ploughed by thine oars, rocked with thy harvests.”Then she began to sing the adventures of Melkarth, the god of theSidonians, and the father of her family.

  She told of the ascent of the mountains of Ersiphonia, the journey toTartessus, and the war against Masisabal to avenge the queen of theserpents:

  “He pursued the female monster, whose tail undulated over the deadleaves like a silver brook, into the forest, and came to a plain wherewomen with dragon-croups were round a great fire, standing erect on thepoints of their tails. The blood-coloured moon was shining within apale circle, and their scarlet tongues, cloven like the harpoons offishermen, reached curling forth to the very edge of the flame.”

  Then Salammbô, without pausing, related how Melkarth, after vanquishingMasisabal, placed her severed head on the prow of his ship. “At eachthrob of the waves it sank beneath the foam, but the sun embalmed it; itbecame harder than gold; nevertheless the eyes ceased not to weep, andthe tears fell into the water continually.”

  She sang all this in an old Chanaanite idiom, which the Barbarians didnot understand. They asked one another what she could be saying to themwith those frightful gestures which accompanied her speech, and mountedround about her on the tables, beds, and sycamore boughs, they strovewith open mouths and craned necks to grasp the vague stories hoveringbefore their imaginations, through the dimness of the theogonies, likephantoms wrapped in cloud.

  Only the beardless priests understood Salammbô; their wrinkled hands,which hung over the strings of their lyres, quivered, and from timeto time they would draw forth a mournful chord; for, feebler than oldwomen, they trembled at once with mystic emotion, and with thefear inspired by men. The Barbarians heeded them not, but listenedcontinually to the maiden’s song.

  None gazed at her like a young Numidian chief, who was placed at thecaptains’ tables among soldiers of his own nation. His girdle sobristled with darts that it formed a swelling in his ample cloak,which was fastened on his temples with a leather lace. The cloth partedasunder as it fell upon his shoulders, and enveloped his countenance inshadow, so that only the fires of his two fixed eyes could be seen. Itwas by chance that he was at the feast, his father having domiciled himwith the Barca family, according to the custom by which kings used tosend their children into the households of the great in order to pavethe way for alliances; but Narr’ Havas had lodged there for six monthswithout having hitherto seen Salammbô, and now, seated on his heels,with his head brushing the handles of his javelins, he was watc
hing herwith dilated nostrils, like a leopard crouching among the bamboos.

  On the other side of the tables was a Libyan of colossal stature, andwith short black curly hair. He had retained only his military jacket,the brass plates of which were tearing the purple of the couch. Anecklace of silver moons was tangled in his hairy breast. His face wasstained with splashes of blood; he was leaning on his left elbow with asmile on his large, open mouth.

  Salammbô had abandoned the sacred rhythm. With a woman’s subtlety shewas simultaneously employing all the dialects of the Barbarians in orderto appease their anger. To the Greeks she spoke Greek; then she turnedto the Ligurians, the Campanians, the Negroes, and listening to her eachone found again in her voice the sweetness of his native land. She now,carried away by the memories of Carthage, sang of the ancient battlesagainst Rome; they applauded. She kindled at the gleaming of the nakedswords, and cried aloud with outstretched arms. Her lyre fell, she wassilent; and, pressing both hands upon her heart, she remained for someminutes with closed eyelids enjoying the agitation of all these men.

  Matho, the Libyan, leaned over towards her. Involuntarily she approachedhim, and impelled by grateful pride, poured him a long stream of wineinto a golden cup in order to conciliate the army.

  “Drink!” she said.

  He took the cup, and was carrying it to his lips when a Gaul, the samethat had been hurt by Gisco, struck him on the shoulder, while in ajovial manner he gave utterance to pleasantries in his native tongue.Spendius was not far off, and he volunteered to interpret them.

  “Speak!” said Matho.

  “The gods protect you; you are going to become rich. When will thenuptials be?”

  “What nuptials?”

  “Yours! for with us,” said the Gaul, “when a woman gives drink toa soldier, it means that she offers him her couch.”

  He had not finished when Narr’ Havas, with a bound, drew a javelinfrom his girdle, and, leaning his right foot upon the edge of the table,hurled it against Matho.

  The javelin whistled among the cups, and piercing the Lybian’s arm,pinned it so firmly to the cloth, that the shaft quivered in the air.

  Matho quickly plucked it out; but he was weaponless and naked; at lasthe lifted the over-laden table with both arms, and flung it againstNarr’ Havas into the very centre of the crowd that rushed betweenthem. The soldiers and Numidians pressed together so closely that theywere unable to draw their swords. Matho advanced dealing great blowswith his head. When he raised it, Narr’ Havas had disappeared. Hesought for him with his eyes. Salammbô also was gone.

  Then directing his looks to the palace he perceived the red door withthe black cross closing far above, and he darted away.

  They saw him run between the prows of the galleys, and then reappearalong the three staircases until he reached the red door against whichhe dashed his whole body. Panting, he leaned against the wall to keephimself from falling.

  But a man had followed him, and through the darkness, for the lightsof the feast were hidden by the corner of the palace, he recognisedSpendius.

  “Begone!” said he.

  The slave without replying began to tear his tunic with his teeth;then kneeling beside Matho he tenderly took his arm, and felt it in theshadow to discover the wound.

  By a ray of the moon which was then gliding between the clouds, Spendiusperceived a gaping wound in the middle of the arm. He rolled the pieceof stuff about it, but the other said irritably, “Leave me! leaveme!”

  “Oh no!” replied the slave. “You released me from the ergastulum.I am yours! you are my master! command me!”

  Matho walked round the terrace brushing against the walls. He strainedhis ears at every step, glancing down into the silent apartments throughthe spaces between the gilded reeds. At last he stopped with a look ofdespair.

  “Listen!” said the slave to him. “Oh! do not despise me for myfeebleness! I have lived in the palace. I can wind like a viper throughthe walls. Come! in the Ancestor’s Chamber there is an ingot of goldbeneath every flagstone; an underground path leads to their tombs.”

  “Well! what matters it?” said Matho.

  Spendius was silent.

  They were on the terrace. A huge mass of shadow stretched before them,appearing as if it contained vague accumulations, like the giganticbillows of a black and petrified ocean.

  But a luminous bar rose towards the East; far below, on the left, thecanals of Megara were beginning to stripe the verdure of the gardenswith their windings of white. The conical roofs of the heptagonaltemples, the staircases, terraces, and ramparts were being carved bydegrees upon the paleness of the dawn; and a girdle of white foam rockedaround the Carthaginian peninsula, while the emerald sea appeared as ifit were curdled in the freshness of the morning. Then as the rosy skygrew larger, the lofty houses, bending over the sloping soil, rearedand massed themselves like a herd of black goats coming down from themountains. The deserted streets lengthened; the palm-trees that toppedthe walls here and there were motionless; the brimming cisterns seemedlike silver bucklers lost in the courts; the beacon on the promontory ofHermæum was beginning to grow pale. The horses of Eschmoun, on the verysummit of the Acropolis in the cypress wood, feeling that the light wascoming, placed their hoofs on the marble parapet, and neighed towardsthe sun.

  It appeared, and Spendius raised his arms with a cry.

  Everything stirred in a diffusion of red, for the god, as if he wererending himself, now poured full-rayed upon Carthage the golden rainof his veins. The beaks of the galleys sparkled, the roof of Khamonappeared to be all in flames, while far within the temples, whosedoors were opening, glimmerings of light could be seen. Large chariots,arriving from the country, rolled their wheels over the flagstonesin the streets. Dromedaries, baggage-laden, came down the ramps.Money-changers raised the pent-houses of their shops at the cross ways,storks took to flight, white sails fluttered. In the wood of Tanithmight be heard the tabourines of the sacred courtesans, and the furnacesfor baking the clay coffins were beginning to smoke on the Mappalianpoint.

  Spendius leaned over the terrace; his teeth chattered and he repeated:

  “Ah! yes—yes—master! I understand why you scorned the pillage ofthe house just now.”

  Matho was as if he had just been awaked by the hissing of his voice, anddid not seem to understand. Spendius resumed:

  “Ah! what riches! and the men who possess them have not even the steelto defend them!”

  Then, pointing with his right arm outstretched to some of the populacewho were crawling on the sand outside the mole to look for gold dust:

  “See!” he said to him, “the Republic is like these wretches:bending on the brink of the ocean, she buries her greedy arms in everyshore, and the noise of the billows so fills her ear that she cannothear behind her the tread of a master’s heel!”

  He drew Matho to quite the other end of the terrace, and showed him thegarden, wherein the soldiers’ swords, hanging on the trees, were likemirrors in the sun.

  “But here there are strong men whose hatred is roused! and nothingbinds them to Carthage, neither families, oaths nor gods!”

  Matho remained leaning against the wall; Spendius came close, andcontinued in a low voice:

  “Do you understand me, soldier? We should walk purple-clad likesatraps. We should bathe in perfumes; and I should in turn have slaves!Are you not weary of sleeping on hard ground, of drinking the vinegarof the camps, and of continually hearing the trumpet? But you will restlater, will you not? When they pull off your cuirass to cast your corpseto the vultures! or perhaps blind, lame, and weak you will go, leaningon a stick, from door to door to tell of your youth to pickle-sellersand little children. Remember all the injustice of your chiefs, thecampings in the snow, the marchings in the sun, the tyrannies ofdiscipline, and the everlasting menace of the cross! And after all thismisery they have given you a necklace of honour, as they hang a girdleof bells round the breast of an ass to deafen it on its journey, andprevent it from feeling fatigue. A
man like you, braver than Pyrrhus! Ifonly you had wished it! Ah! how happy will you be in large cool halls,with the sound of lyres, lying on flowers, with women and buffoons! Donot tell me that the enterprise is impossible. Have not the Mercenariesalready possessed Rhegium and other fortified places in Italy? Who is toprevent you? Hamilcar is away; the people execrate the rich; Gisco cando nothing with the cowards who surround him. Command them! Carthage isours; let us fall upon it!”

  “No!” said Matho, “the curse of Moloch weighs upon me. I felt itin her eyes, and just now I saw a black ram retreating in a temple.”Looking around him he added: “But where is she?”

  Then Spendius understood that a great disquiet possessed him, and didnot venture to speak again.

  The trees behind them were still smoking; half-burned carcases of apesdropped from their blackened boughs from time to time into the midstof the dishes. Drunken soldiers snored open-mouthed by the side of thecorpses, and those who were not asleep lowered their heads dazzled bythe light of day. The trampled soil was hidden beneath splashes of red.The elephants poised their bleeding trunks between the stakes of theirpens. In the open granaries might be seen sacks of spilled wheat, belowthe gate was a thick line of chariots which had been heaped up by theBarbarians, and the peacocks perched in the cedars were spreading theirtails and beginning to utter their cry.

  Matho’s immobility, however, astonished Spendius; he was even palerthan he had recently been, and he was following something on the horizonwith fixed eyeballs, and with both fists resting on the edge of theterrace. Spendius crouched down, and so at last discovered at what hewas gazing. In the distance a golden speck was turning in the dust onthe road to Utica; it was the nave of a chariot drawn by two mules;a slave was running at the end of the pole, and holding them by thebridle. Two women were seated in the chariot. The manes of the animalswere puffed between the ears after the Persian fashion, beneath anetwork of blue pearls. Spendius recognised them, and restrained a cry.

  A large veil floated behind in the wind.