Sónnica la cortesana. English

  Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online DistributedProofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file wasproduced from images generously made available by TheInternet Archive)

  SONNICA

  BY

  VICENTE BLASCO IBANEZ

  Translated from the Spanish byFRANCES DOUGLAS

  NEW YORKDUFFIELD & COMPANY1919

  COPYRIGHT 1912By DUFFIELD & COMPANY

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER PAGE

  I. AT APHRODITE'S TEMPLE 3

  II. SAGUNTUM 45

  III. DANCING GIRLS FROM GADES 95

  IV. GREEK AND CELTIBERIAN 143

  V. INVASION 174

  VI. ASBYTE AND HANNIBAL 200

  VII. THE WALLS OF SAGUNTUM 234

  VIII. THE ROME OF FABIUS THE DELAYER 258

  IX. THE HUNGRY CITY 285

  X. THE LAST NIGHT 311

  SONNICA

  CHAPTER I

  AT APHRODITE'S TEMPLE.

  When the ship of Polyanthus, the Saguntine pilot, arrived off the portof his native land, the mariners and fishermen, their vision sharpenedby ever watching the distant horizon, had already recognized hissaffron-dyed sail and the image of Victory, which, with extended wings,and holding a crown in her right hand, stretched along the prow until itdipped its feet in the waves.

  "It is Polyanthus' ship! It is the Victoriata returning from Gades andNew Carthage!"

  To obtain a better view they rushed out upon the stone breakwatersurrounding the three basins of the port of Saguntum, which wereconnected with the sea by a long canal.

  The low marshy land, overgrown with reeds and tangled aquatic plants,extended as far as the Gulf of Sucro, which bounded the horizon by itscurving blue belt, and over which the fishermen's smacks skimmed likedragon flies. The trireme slowly advanced. The colored sail fluttered inthe breeze without filling, but the triple banks of oars, with rhythmicmovement along its flanks caused the vessel to spring over the whitefoam lashing the entrance of the canal.

  Night was falling. On the hill near the port the temple of VenusAphrodite reflected from the polished surface of its pediment the fireof the setting sun. A golden atmosphere wrapped the columns and the bluemarble walls, as if the father of day, before sinking to rest, weregreeting the goddess of the waters with a kiss of light. The chain ofdark mountains, covered with pines and shrubbery, swung around the seain a gigantic semicircle, embracing the fertile valley in which lay theSaguntine gardens, the white villas, the rustic towers and the hamletsrising among the clustering green trees of the fields. At the otherextreme of this mountain barrier, dimmed by the distance and the haze ofthe landscape, could be seen the city, the ancient Zacynthus, with itsdwellings compressed within walls and citadels upon the fold of thehill. Far above was the Acropolis, with cyclopean ramparts above whichrose the high-roofed temples and public buildings.

  The port was enlivened by the stir of labor. Two ships from Massiliawere loading with wine in the big basin. One from Liburnia was taking ona cargo consisting of Saguntine pottery and dried figs, to be sold inRome, while a galley from Carthage contained in its hold great bars ofsilver brought from the mines of Celtiberia. Other ships, with sailsfurled and their banks of oars fallen against their sides, swung atanchor near the wharf, like great sleeping birds gently nodding theirprows with figureheads of crocodiles or of horses, used by the navy ofAlexandria, or displaying on the stern a hideous red dwarf resemblingthat which decorated the vessel of the Phoenician Cadmus in hisastounding voyages over many seas.

  The slaves bending under the weight of amphorae and silver ingots,wearing no other clothing than a loin-cloth and a white hood, theirfretted and sweating bodies bare, passed like an endless rosary alongthe boards leading from the mole to the ships, as they carried themerchandise from where it lay piled on the wharf into the concave holdsof the vessels.

  In the centre of the great middle basin rose a tower guarding theentrance to the port; a solid structure with its stone foundations laidin the deepest water. Moored to the rings which adorned its walls lay aship of war, a Liburnian galley, high of stern, the prow a sheep's head,the great square sail furled, an armored fore-castle near the mast, andon the gunwales, forming a double row, the shields of the _classiarii_,soldiers destined for marine combats. It was a Roman vessel which atdaybreak next morning was to set sail, bearing the ambassadors sent bythe great Republic to settle the political disorders which agitatedSaguntum.

  In the second basin, a tranquil square of water where boats wereconstructed and repaired, sounded the hammers of the calkers strikingagainst the wood. The dismasted galleys lay on the bank like sickmonsters, showing through their lacerated flanks their strong frames andtheir pitch-blackened interiors. In the third and smallest, a lake offilthy waters, the fishermen's barks were anchored. Flocks of gullswhirled around them, darting down upon the spoils which floated on thewater, while along the bank crowded women, old men, and boys, awaitingthe arrival of the barks with fish from the Sucronian Gulf, which weresold in the interior to the more advanced tribes of Celtiberia.

  The arrival of the Saguntine ship had drawn all the people of the portaway from their tasks. The slaves worked lazily while their overseerswere preoccupied by the entrance of the trireme, and even phlegmaticcitizens seated on the mole, rod in hand, trying to capture corpulenteels which abounded in the basin, forgot their fishing while theywatched the advance of the Victoriata. She had by this time come intothe canal. Her hull could not be seen. The mast, with its motionlesssail, rose above the tall reeds which bordered the entrance to the port.

  The afternoon silence was interrupted by the hoarse cry of innumerablefrogs croaking in the marshes and the chattering of birds whichfluttered in the olive trees near the fane of Aphrodite. Thehammer-blows of the arsenal rung more and more slowly; the people of theport were silent, watching the progress of the ship of Polyanthus. Asthe Victoriata rounded the sharp bend of the canal the gilded image ofthe prow hove into sight, and then the first oars quickly followed, likeenormous red talons, clutching the glossy surface of the water with aforce which flung aloft the white spray.

  The crowd, amid which chafed the eagerly watching families of themariners, burst into acclamations as the ship swung into the port.

  "Greeting, Polyanthus! Welcome, son of Aphrodite! May Sonnica, yourmistress, overwhelm you with riches!"

  Naked, brown-skinned boys dived head-first into the basin, swimmingaround the ship like a swarm of young Tritons.

  The people of the port praised their compatriot Polyanthus,exaggerating his skill. According to them his ship lacked nothing; wellmight the rich Sonnica be satisfied with her freedman. Forward on thevessel stood the _proreta_, motionless as a statue, watching with swiftglances to discover the presence of obstacles; the crew, naked, theirsweaty backs glistening in the sun, bent over the oars, and on the poopthe _gubernator_, Polyanthus himself, insensible to weariness, wrappedin his ample red mantle, the tiller firmly held in his right hand, andin his left a white staff which he waved rhythmically, marking the swingof the rowers. Near the mast stood men in strange costumes, andmotionless women wrapped in flowing mantles.

  The ship glided into the port like an enormous crustacean, parting thedead and silent waters with her prow, which but recently had beenfretting the waters of the gulf.

  As she cast anchor near the mole and threw out her gang-plank, therowers were forced to club back the multitude which crowded forwardeager to board the ship.

  The pilot gave orders from the poop; his red robe moved from place toplace like
a flame kindled by the setting sun.

  "Eh! Polyanthus! Welcome, navigator! What cargo do you bring?"

  The pilot saw two young horsemen on the bank. The one who addressed himwas wrapped in a white mantle; one of its corners covered his head,leaving exposed his beard done into curls and lustrous with pomatum. Theother clung to the back of his steed with his strong bare legs; he worethe sagum of the Celtiberians, a short wool tunic over which thebroadsword hung from his shoulder, and his hair, as thick anddishevelled as his beard, outlined a brown and manly countenance.

  "Greeting, Lachares! Greeting, Alorcus!" replied the pilot with anexpression of respect. "Shall you see Sonnica, my mistress?"

  "This very night," answered Lachares. "We sup at her country-seat. Whatbring you?"

  "Tell her that I have argentiferous lead from New Carthage, and woolfrom Baetica. Excellent voyage!"

  The two youths tugged at their horses' reins.

  "Ah! Wait a moment," added Polyanthus. "Tell her that I have notforgotten her instructions. I am bringing what you so greatly desire,the dancing girls from Gades."

  "We are all grateful to you," said Lachares, laughing. "Hail,Polyanthus; may Neptune favor you!"

  The two riders set off at a gallop, becoming lost to view among thehovels grouped around the base of the temple of Aphrodite.

  Meanwhile one of the ship's passengers landed, making his way throughthe crowd. He was a Greek. All knew his origin by the _pilos_ whichcovered his head, a conical leather helmet, after the fashion of thatworn by Ulysses in Greek paintings. He was clad in a short, dark tunic,adjusted around his waist by a leather belt, from which hung a pouch.His chlamys, which did not reach his knees, was fastened at the rightshoulder by a copper brooch; worn and dusty laced shoes covered hisstockingless feet, and his sinewy arms, carefully freed from hair,rested on a great dart which was almost a lance. His hair, short andarranged in thick curls, hung beneath the _pilos_, forming a hollowcrown around his head. It was black, but silvery threads shone in it andalso in his broad short beard. His upper lip was carefully shaved in theAthenian style.

  He was a strong and agile man, in the prime of life, healthy andvigorous. His eyes had an ironic glance, and in them sparkled somethingof that fire which reveals men born for warfare and for contact with theworld. He walked at ease about the unfamiliar port, like a traveleraccustomed to all manner of contrasts and surprises.

  The sun began to sink, and work at the port had ceased. The crowd whichhad swarmed on the wharf was gradually scattering. Bands of slavesstretching their aching limbs and wiping off the sweat, passed near thestranger. Controlled by the clubs of their guards, they were about to belocked up until the next morning in caves in the nearby hill, or in theoil mills situated beyond the mariners' taverns, the inns, and thebrothels, with their mud walls and broad roofs, which as a complement tothe port were grouped at the foot of the hill of Aphrodite.

  The merchants also left in search of their horses and chariots to rideto the city. They passed in groups, looking over the records on theirtablets, and discussing the operations of the day. Their diverse types,dress, and bearing, showed a great mixture of races in Zacynthus, acommercial city to which in ancient times flocked the vessels of theMediterranean, and whose traffic was in rivalry with that of Emporionand Massilia. The Asiatic or African merchants who imported ivory,ostrich feathers, spices, and perfumes for the rich of the city, weredistinguished by their majestic step, their tunics with flowers andbirds embroidered in gold, their green buskins, their tall embroideredtiaras, and their beards falling over their breasts, curled so as to liein horizontal waves. The Greeks laughed and talked incessantly, jestingover their business affairs, and overwhelming with volubility the grave,bearded, diffident Iberian exporters dressed in coarse wool, who, withtheir silence seemed to protest against the stream of useless words.

  The wharves were deserted one after another, the life of the placeflowing along the road toward the city. Horses galloped, raising cloudsof dust, chariots rolled along, and little African donkeys passed with ashort trot, bearing on their backs some corpulent citizen or other,seated like a woman.

  The Greek walked slowly along the mole behind two men clad in shorttunics, wearing buskins and little conical hats with drooping brims,like those of the Hellenic shepherds. They were two artisans from thecity. They had spent the day fishing, and were returning to theirhouses, gazing with ill dissimulated pride at their baskets in whichwrithed and wriggled barbels and eels. They were talking in Iberian,frequently mixing Greek and Latin words in their conversation. It was anot unusual dialect in that ancient colony, which was in continualcontact through commerce with the principal peoples of the earth. TheGreek, as he followed them down the wharf listened to their conversationwith the curiosity of a stranger.

  "You will come in my cart," said one of them. "My donkey awaits me atAbiliana's inn. The beast as you know is the envy of all my neighbors.We shall yet reach the city before the gates are closed."

  "I thank you, neighbor. It is not prudent to travel alone when thecountry is swarming with adventurers whom we take as hirelings for thewars with the Turdetani, and all the people who fled from the city afterthe last revolt. Day before yesterday, as you know, the dead body ofActeio, the barber of the Forum, was found in the road. He wasassassinated and robbed as he was returning from his littlecountry-house at night-fall."

  "They say that we shall live more tranquilly now since the Romanintervention. The legates from Rome have ordered a few heads cut off;and they affirm that after this we shall have peace."

  The two men stopped a moment and turned their heads to look at the Romanliburna, which could barely be distinguished near the tower in the port,wrapped in the shadows of evening. Then they walked slowly onward, as ifin deep thought.

  "You know," continued one of them, "that I am only a shoemaker who hashis shop near the Forum and has been able to save a sack of silvervictoriati in order to live at ease in his old age, and to spend theafternoons at the port, rod in hand. I do not know as much as thoserhetoricians who stroll up and down outside the city wall disputing andshouting like Furies, nor do I worry my brain as do the philosophers whogather on the porticos of the Forum to quarrel amid the jests of themerchants as to whether this or that one of the men who occupythemselves there in Athens with such matters is in the right. But, withall my ignorance, I ask myself, neighbor, why this strife between usmen who live in the same city who should deal with one another like goodbrothers? Why?"

  The shoemaker's comrade replied with vigorous nods of assent.

  "I understand," continued the artisan, "that from time to time we shallbe at war with our neighbors the Turdetani. Sometimes on account of aquestion of irrigation, again on account of pasture-grounds, but mainlybecause of boundary lines, and to keep them from enjoying this beautifulport, I understand that the citizens take up arms and seek battle, goingout to destroy their fields and burn their huts. But those people arenot of our race, and that is how a great city makes itself respected.Besides, war yields slaves, which often are scarce, and what would wemen, we citizens, do without slaves?"

  "I am poorer than you, neighbor," said the other fisherman. "I do notearn as much making saddles as you do making shoes; but in spite of mypoverty I can afford to have a Turdetan slave, who helps me very much,and I desire war, because it brings in considerably more work."

  "War with our neighbors--that is welcome. The young men are restless,and seek ways of distinguishing themselves, the Republic acquiresimportance in consequence, and, after tramping through valleys andmountains, all will buy shoes and have their saddles mended. Very well;that enlivens business. But why have we been at work for over a yearconverting the Forum into a battlefield and turning every street into afortress? At best you are in your shop extolling to a citizeness theelegance of a pair of papyrus sandals of Asiatic fashion, or of Greekbuskins of great majesty, when you hear in the nearest plaza the clashof arms, shouts, death cries, and you rush to shut the door so that astray missile will no
t nail you to your seat! And why? What reason isthere for living like cats and dogs in the bosom of this Zacynthus,which used to be so tranquil and so industrious?"

  "The pride and riches of the Greeks"----began his companion.

  "Yes, I know that reason. The hatred between Iberians and Greeks; thebelief that the latter, by their riches and wisdom, dominate and exploitthe former--as if in the city there actually existed Iberians andGreeks! Iberians are those who are behind those mountains which mark offour horizon; a Greek is he whom we have seen disembark, and who isfollowing our footsteps; but we are only sons of Zacynthus or ofSaguntum, as they wish to call our city. We are the product of athousand encounters by land and by sea, and Jupiter himself would bedriven into a corner to tell who our grandparents were. Who canenumerate the people that have come here and have remained, in spite ofothers having come afterward to wrest from them the dominion of theselands and mines, since Zacynthus was bitten by the serpent in thesefields, and our father Hercules raised the great walls of the Acropolis?Hither came the peoples of Tyre with their red sailed ships for thesilver from the interior; the mariners from Zante fleeing with theirfamilies from the tyrants of their country; the Rutulian race fromArdea, people from Italy, who were powerful in the times when Rome didnot as yet exist; Carthaginians of the epoch in which they thought moreof commerce than of arms--and how do I know how many other peoples? Youshould hear the pedagogues when they explain our history on the porticoof the temple of Diana! And I, do I know, perchance whether I am Greekor Iberian? My grandfather was a freedman from Sicily who came to takecharge of a pottery and married a Celtiberian from the interior. Mymother was a Lusitanian who came here on an expedition to sell gold dustto merchants from Alexandria. I call myself a Saguntine like all therest. Those who consider themselves Iberians in Saguntum believe in thegods of the Greeks; the Greeks unconsciously adopt many Iberian customs;they think themselves different because they have divided the city inhalf and live separate; but their feasts are the same, and in the nextPanathenaea you will see, together with the daughters of the Hellenicmerchants, those of the citizens who cultivate the earth and who dressin coarse cloth and let their beards grow to more closely resemble thetribes of the interior."

  "Yes, but the Greeks dominate everywhere, they are masters ofeverything, they have taken possession of the life of the city."

  "They are the wisest, the bravest; they have something almost divineabout them," said the shoemaker sententiously. "See if that is not trueof the one who is following us. He is poorly dressed; perhaps he has notan obolus in his pocket for supper; perhaps he will sleep beneath theopen sky, and yet, it seems as if Zeus had come down from the heavens indisguise to visit us."

  The two artisans turned their gaze instinctively to look at the Greek,and continued on their way. They had arrived near the huts which formedan animated town around the port.

  "There is another reason," said the leather-worker, "for the war whichdivides us. It is not only the hatred between Greeks and Iberians, it isbecause some want us to be friends of Rome and others of Carthage."

  "We should not affiliate with either," said the shoemaker tersely."Tranquilly carrying on our commerce as in other times is the way inwhich we should prosper best. I reproach the Greeks of Saguntum forhaving allied us with Rome."

  "Rome is the conqueror."

  "Yes, but Rome is very far away, and the Carthaginians are almost at ourdoors. Troops from New Carthage can come here by a few days' journey."

  "Rome is our ally and she will protect us. Her legates, who leaveto-morrow, have put an end to our strifes, beheading the citizens whodisturbed the peace of the city."

  "Yes, but those citizens were friends of Carthage and old-time protegesof Hamilcar. Hannibal will not easily forget his father's friends."

  "Bah! Carthage wants peace and wide commerce to enrich herself. Sinceher defeat in Sicily she fears Rome."

  "The senators may be afraid, but Hamilcar's son is very young, and, formy part, I am afraid of these boys converted into chiefs, who forgetwine and love to dream only of glory."

  The Greek could hear no more. The two artisans had disappeared amongthe huts, and the echo of their argument was lost in the distance.

  The stranger was alone in the unfamiliar port. The wharves weredeserted; lights began to glisten on the poops of the ships, and in thedistance, over the waters of the bay, rose the moon like an enormoushoney-colored disk. Only in the small fishermen's ports lingeredanimation. The women, naked from above the waist, tucking between theirlegs the rags which served them as a tunic, walked into the water up totheir knees to wash the fish, and then putting them into broad basketson their heads they took up their journey, dragging their big-bellied,naked youngsters after them. From the silent and motionless ships camegroups of men who traveled toward the wretched settlement spread aroundthe foot of the temple. They were sailors going in search of taverns andbrothels.

  The Greek knew those customs well; it was a port like many others he hadseen--the temple on the hill to guide the navigator, and below, wine inabundance, easy love, and the sanguinary fight as a termination of thefeast. He thought for a moment of starting on the journey to the city,but the way was long, he did not know the road, and he preferred toremain, sleeping where he could until sunrise.

  He had entered one of the winding lanes formed by the hovels throwntogether at hazard, as if they had fallen in confusion from the sky,with their walls of earth and roofs of reeds and straw, with narrowslits for light, and with only a few rags sewn together or a bit ofthreadbare tapestry, for a door. In some, with less wretched exteriors,dwelt the modest traders of the port, ship chandlers, dealers in grain,and those who, with the assistance of slaves, brought casks of waterfrom the springs in the valley to the vessels; but the majority of thehovels were taverns and lupanars.

  Some of the houses had alongside the doors signs in Greek, Iberian, orLatin, painted with red ochre.

  The Greek heard some one calling him. It was a little, bald, fat manbeckoning from the door of his dwelling.

  "Greeting, son of Athens!" he said, to flatter him with the name of themost famous city of Greece. "Come in! Here you will be among your own,for my forefathers also came from Athens. See the sign on my tavern, 'ToPallas Athene'. Here you will find wine from Laurona, as excellent asthat from Attica; if you wish to try the Celtiberian beer, I have italso, and if you desire, I can serve you with a certain flask of winefrom Samos, as authentic as the goddess of Athens which adorns mycounter."

  The Greek answered with a smile and a shake of his head, while theloquacious tavern-keeper went into his hut, lifting the tapestry toallow a group of mariners to enter.

  After a few steps he stopped, attracted by a faint whistle which seemedto be calling him from the interior of a cabin. An old woman, wrapped ina black mantle, stood in her doorway making signs to him. Within, by thelight of an earthen lamp hanging by a slender chain, he could seeseveral women squatting on mats in the attitude of placid beasts, withno other sign of life than a fixed smile which displayed their shiningteeth.

  "I am in haste, good mother," said the stranger, smiling.

  "Stay awhile, son of Zeus!" urged the old woman in the Hellenic idiom,disfigured by the harshness of her accent and by the hiss of breathingbetween toothless gums. "The moment I saw you I knew you for a Greek.All who come from your country are gay and beautiful; you look likeApollo seeking his celestial sisters. Enter! Here you will findthem----"

  Approaching the stranger, and catching him by the border of his chlamys,she enumerated the charms of her Iberian, Balearic, or African wards;some majestic and grand like Juno, others small and graceful like thehetaerae of Alexandria and Greece; and seeing that the customer releasedhis garment from her clutch and continued on his way, she raised hervoice, believing that she had not divined his taste, and she spoke ofwhite youths with long hair, beautiful as the Syrian boys who werecontended for by the gallants of Athens.

  The Greek had passed out of the winding lane, but he cou
ld still hearthe voice of the old woman, who seemed to become shamelessly intoxicatedcrying her infamous wares. He was now in the country, at the beginningof the high road to the city. On his right rose the hill of the temple,and at its base, opposite the flight of stone steps, he saw a houselarger than the others, an inn with doors and windows illuminated bylamps of red earthenware.

  Seated on stone benches were sailors from all countries, demanding foodin their several languages--Roman soldiers wearing corselets of bronzescales, short swords hanging from their shoulders; at their feethelmets topped by a crest of red horsehair in the form of a brush;rowers from Massilia, almost naked, their knives half hidden among thefolds of the rag knotted around their waists; Phoenician andCarthaginian mariners with wide trousers, wearing tall caps in the formof mitres with heavy silver pendants; negroes from Alexandria, athleticand slow of movement, displaying their sharp teeth as they smiled,making one think of frightful cannibalistic scenes; Celtiberians andIberians with gloomy dress and tangled hair, looking suspiciously in alldirections, and instinctively raising their hands to their broad knives;some redmen from Gaul, with long mustaches and coarse red hair tiedbehind and falling down their necks; people, in fine, who had come, orhad been flung by the hazards of war and the sea, from one point of theknown world to another, one day victorious warriors, and slaves thenext, now sailors and anon pirates, acknowledging no law nornationality; with no other respect than the fear of the master of thevessel who was quick to order them to the whip or the cross; with noother religion than that of the sword and the strong arm; testifying bythe wounds which covered their bodies, in the long cicatrices whichfurrowed their muscles, by cuts on their ears covered by matted hair, toa past mysterious with horrors.

  Some ate standing by the counter, behind which were ranged the amphoraecorked with fresh leaves; others seated on the stone benches along thewalls held earthenware plates on their knees. Most had thrown themselvesdown on the floor upon their bellies, like wild beasts devouring theirprey, reaching into their plates with their hairy claws, crunching thefood in their jaws as they talked. They had not yet upset their winenor asked for the women. They ate and drank with the appetite of ogrestormented by the deprivations of the long voyages, and morally starvedby the brutal discipline on shipboard.

  Finding themselves huddled together in a small space, filled with smokefrom the lamps and with vapors from the food, they felt the necessity ofcommunicating with each other, and between mouthfuls, each spoke to hisneighbor, paying no heed to difference of idiom, making themselvesunderstood finally by a language composed more of gestures than ofwords. A Carthaginian was telling a Greek about his last voyage to theislands of the Great Sea, beyond the Pillars of Hercules, through a graybody of water covered with fog, until they arrived at an abrupt coastknown only to the pilots of his country, where tin was found. Fartherdown the bench a negro, with grotesque mimicry, was describing to acouple of Celtiberians an excursion down the Red Sea, until they reachedmysterious shores, deserted by day, but covered by night with movingfires and inhabited by hairy men as agile as monkeys, the skins of someof whom they stuffed with straw and carried to the temples of Egypt tooffer to the gods. The older Roman soldiers, paying no attention, intheir insolence as conquerors, to the humiliated Carthaginians who werelistening, told of their great victory on the AEgates islands which drovethe Carthaginians out of Sicily, ending the first Punic War. The Iberianshepherds mixed in among the navigators wished to off-set the effect ofthese maritime adventures, and they bragged of the horses belonging totheir tribe, and of their marvelous swiftness, while a little Greek,lively and keen, in order to overwhelm the barbarians and to demonstratethe superiority of his race, began to declaim fragments of some odelearned in the port of Piraeus, or he intoned a lyric poem, slow andsweet, which was lost amid the noise of conversation, of crunching jaws,and of clattering plates.

  They called for more light. The smoky atmosphere of the inn wasconstantly growing denser, and the frames of the lamps were scarcelymore distinctly visible than drops of blood on the soot-blackened walls.From the kitchen floated an odor of piquant sauces and smoky wood whichmade many of the customers cough and weep. Some were drunk soon afterbeginning dinner, and they asked the slaves for crowns of flowers toadorn themselves as in the banquets of the rich. Others growled applauseas they saw the den illuminated by the lurid flame of the candlewoodwhich the proprietor lighted. The slaves passed behind the stone counteroverturning great amphorae, and ran into the kitchen only to rush backagain immediately, red with suffocation, bearing great platters. Wineran across the floor as a crater was overturned. When there appeared atthe window the painted faces of some of the prostitutes--she-wolves ofthe port--who were awaiting the moment for making an irruption into theinn, the mariners greeted them with hoarse laughter, imitating the howlof the beast after whom they were nicknamed, and throwing them a portionof their food, over which the women fought, scratching and shrieking.

  The food was all thirst-giving, so that each mouthful should beaccompanied by a sip. The Greeks ate snails floating in a sauce ofsaffron; fresh sardines from the gulf appeared arranged in circlesaround the dishes, festooned with laurel leaves; birds' heads wereserved covered with green sauce; the Iberian shepherds were satisfiedwith dried fish and hard cheese; the Romans and Gauls devoured greatchunks of lamb dripping blood, and eels from the basins of the portdecorated with hard-boiled eggs. All these dishes and many others wereloaded with salt, pepper, and herbs of acrid odor, to which thestrangest qualities were attributed. Everybody was eager to spend hismoney, to satisfy his hunger and thirst, and to roll on the floor drunk,consoling himself thus for the hard life of privation which awaited himon shipboard. The Romans who were to sail the next day had collectedtheir back pay and were determined to leave their sestertii in the portof Saguntum; the Carthaginians boasted of their Republic, the richest inthe world, and other mariners praised their masters, ever generous whenthey touched that port where business was excellent. The innkeeper wascontinually throwing into an empty amphora coins of all kinds, thosefrom Zacynthus, bearing the prow of a ship, with Victory flying aboveit; those from Carthage with the legendary horse and the frightfulCabiric deities; and Alexandrian coins with their elegant Ptolemaicprofile.

  The meanest of the rowers felt the caprices of a potentate, the itch toimitate the opulent for a night that they might console themselves withits memory in future days of hunger; and they asked for oysters fromLucrinus, which an occasional ship brought packed in amphorae with seawater as a delicacy for the great merchants of Saguntum, or the_oxygarum_, salted fishmilt, prepared with vinegar and spices as anappetizer for which the patricians of Rome paid a great price. Blackwine from Laurona and the pink wine from the Saguntine vineyards werescorned by those who had money. The wine from Massilia they despisedalso, sneering at the rosin and gypsum employed in its preparation, andthey called for wines from the Campagna, Falerno, Monte Massico, orCaecubum, which, in spite of the price, they drank in capaciouscymbas--boat-shaped drinking vessels of Saguntine clay. Hungry for thefresh products of the field after their long sojourn on the sea, thesemen devoured immense quantities of vegetables and fruits, in addition tothe hot dishes and a great variety of drinks ranging from Celtiberianbeers to foreign wines. They fell greedily upon the plates of mushrooms;they ate handfuls of radishes dressed with vinegar; leeks, beets,garlic, and heaps of fresh lettuce from the gardens of the Saguntinedomain disappeared down their throats, while they littered the floorwith green, muddy leaves.

  The Greek stood in the doorway with a few of the mariners who could notfind room within, and contemplated the spectacle. As he gazed on therude banquet the stranger remembered that he had not eaten sincemorning, when the master of the rowers on Polyanthus' ship had given hima piece of bread. The novelty of disembarking in an unknown land hadquieted his stomach, accustomed as it was to privations; but now insight of so many different foods he felt the pangs of hunger, andinstinctively set one foot within the tavern, drawing it backimmediately.
What was the use of going in? The pouch hanging from hisshoulder held papyri testifying to his past achievements; tablets formemoranda; even pincers for extracting his beard; a comb; all the smallobjects of which a good Greek, addicted to the scrupulous care of hisperson, would not deprive himself, but search in it as he might he couldfind not a single obolus. The pilot, who respected the Greeks of Attica,had given him free passage on the ship when he met him wandering alongthe wharves at New Carthage. He was hungry and alone in a strange land,and if he should enter the hostelry to eat without offering money, hewould be treated like a slave, and be driven out with a club.

  Mocked by the odor of the viands and sauces, he turned to flee, tearinghimself away from this torture of Tantalus, but as he drew back hebumped against a tall man clad only in a dark sagum and sandals withstraps crossed to the knees. He resembled a Celtiberian shepherd; butthe Greek, as he collided with him, received the impression in a hastyexchange of glances that this was not the first time he had looked intothose imperious eyes which recalled to his mind the eyes of the eagleperched at the feet of Zeus.

  The Greek shrugged his shoulders with indifference. What he desired wasto satiate his hunger and to sleep if possible until sunrise. Turninghis back on the wretched suburb, illuminated and noisy, he sought aplace where he might rest, and he took the road toward the fane ofAphrodite. The temple, situated on the crest of the hill, was approachedby a broad stairway of blue marble, its first step rising from the quay.

  The Greek seated himself on the polished stone, proposing to await therethe coming of the day. The moon illuminated the whole upper part of thetemple; the sounds from the houses near the port, the murmur of the sea,the whisper of the olive trees, and the monotonous croaking of the frogshidden in the marshes, floated to him muffled, as if lulled by the greatcalm of night.

  Again and again the Greek heard a strident, dismal cry, like the howl ofa wolf. Suddenly it whined behind him, he felt a warm breath on hisback, and as he turned he saw a woman bending toward him, her hands onher knees, her mouth rent by a stupid smile which displayed gums, inplaces lacking teeth.

  "Greeting, handsome stranger! I saw you flee from the tumult. You mustbe sad here all alone. I have come to make you happy.----What! Can itnot be?"

  The Greek recognized her immediately--a "she-wolf" from the port, awretched woman such as he had seen swarming around the wharves in manycountries; miserable, cosmopolitan strumpets, flames for a single nightof men of all colors and races, with no other ambition than to earn afew oboli, slinking near a stone or in the shadow of a boat, old hetaeraesunk in brutality, fugitive slaves seeking liberty in obscenity anddrunkenness; females who represented all that cruel men of the sea knewof love; poor beasts, weakened in their youth by excessive caresses, anddestined to be treated with blows in their old age.

  The stranger looked at the woman, who was still young, and detected sometraces of beauty. But she was wasted, her eyes lachrymose, her mouthdisfigured by broken teeth. She was wrapped in an ample mantle whichmust have been of beautiful weave but was now dirty and threadbare; herfeet were naked, and her tangled hair, in which the unhappy creaturehad thrust a branch of wild flowers, was held by a copper comb.

  "You are wasting your time here," said the Greek with a kindly smile. "Ihave not so much as an obolus in my pouch."

  The man's gentle accent seemed to intimidate the poor unfortunate. Shewas accustomed to blows; man to her represented brutal assault,gratification revealed with bites, and in the presence of the Greek'stender manner she seemed disconcerted and shy, as if she suspecteddanger.

  "Have you no money?" she said with humility, after a long silence. "Itmatters not; here I am. You please me; I am your slave. Among all thosepeople rioting at the hostelry my eyes have turned to you."

  She bent over the Greek, caressing his curly hair with her callousedhands, while he regarded her with compassionate eyes, seeing hershrunken breast and hollow form. Hungry and alone in an unknown land hefelt attracted by the kindness of the unhappy creature; there was thefraternity of misery between them.

  "If you desire company, stay near me," he said; "talk as much as youwish, but do not caress me. I am hungry; I have eaten nothing sincedawn, and at this moment I would exchange all the joys of Cytherea forthe pittance of any mariner."

  The harlot stood up straight, so great was her surprise.

  "You hungry? You faint with hunger, when I thought you nourished on theambrosia of Zeus?"

  Her eyes displayed astonishment such as she would have felt had she seenAphrodite, the nude, white, goddess who was guarded up there in hertemple, descend from her marble pedestal and offer herself with openarms to the rowers of the port for an obolus.

  "Wait, wait!" she cried with resolution, after a moment's reflection.

  The Greek saw her running toward the huts, and when at last wearinessand weakness began to close his eyes, he felt her near him again,touching his shoulder.

  "Take this, my master! It has cost me dear to obtain it. The cruel Lais,an old woman as horrible as the Pareae, who helps us to live through daysof privation, has agreed to give me her supper, after making me takeoath that by the time the sun rises I will hand her two sestertii. Eat,my love; eat and drink!"

  She placed upon the steps a loaf of brown bread, made in the form of adisk, some dried fish, half a Saguntine cheese, tender and oozing whey,and a jar of Celtiberian beer.

  The Greek fell upon the food, and began to devour it, followed by thegaze of the _lupa_, which sweetened at times, and acquired an almostmaternal expression.

  "I should like to be as rich as Sonnica, a woman who they say began likeany one of us, and is now mistress of many of these ships, and hasgardens as wonderful as Olympus, troops of slaves, potteries, and halfthe domain of the commonwealth as her own property. I should like to berich if only for to-night, to regale you on the best there is in thecity; to give you a banquet like one of Sonnica's, which last till dawn,and where, crowned with roses, you should drink the Samian wine from agolden cup."

  The Greek, touched by the simplicity and ingenuousness with which shespoke, gazed at her tenderly.

  "Do not thank me," she continued. "It is I who should be grateful forthe joy of feeding you. What is this? I know not. Never has a manapproached me before without giving me something; some give me coppercoins, others a piece of cloth or a patera of wine; most of them blowsand bites; all have given me something, and I have accepted, though Idetested them. But you, who come poor and hungry, who do not seek me butreject me, who give me nothing, just your being near me has made a newpleasure surge through my body. As I give you food I feel intoxicated,as if I were fresh from a banquet. Tell me, Greek, are you really a man,or are you the father of the gods, descending to earth to honor me?"

  Exalted by her own words, she arose, standing half way up the marblesteps, and extending her rigid arms toward the temple, bathed inmoonlight, exclaimed:

  "Aphrodite! My goddess! If some day I manage to get together the priceof two white doves, I will present them on thy altar, adorned withflowers and fire-colored ribbons, in memory of this night."

  The Greek drank the bitter liquid from the jar and offered it to thewoman, whose lips sought the same spot on the rim which had been touchedby his.

  She did not taste the supper which the Greek held out to her; shecontinued drinking, and the wine made her more talkative.

  "If you only knew what it has cost me to get all this! The lanes arefull of drunken men, who wallow in the mire and drag themselves along ontheir hands, tearing one's clothing and biting one's legs. Wine runsout of the doorways of the inns. They were fighting on the wharf alittle while ago. Some Africans were holding one of their companionshead down in the water to cure his broken skull; a Celtiberian hadopened a great gash in it with his clenched fist. Others amusedthemselves by catching Tuga, an Iberian girl, by the feet, and thrustingher head in the biggest vat in the tavern as long as they dared. She washalf drowned when they pulled her out. It is their usual diversion. Isaw poor A
lbura, a friend of mine, seated on the ground covered withblood, holding in the palm of her hand one of her eyes which a drunkenEgyptian had knocked out with a fisticuff. This kind of thing happensevery night! And yet, all at once, I have become afraid. I have onlyjust met you, and still it seems to me as if I were living in a newworld, and that for the first time I give heed to my surroundings."

  She told him the story of her life. They called her Bacchis, and she wasuncertain what was her native land. No doubt she was born in some otherport, for she vaguely remembered in her childhood a long voyage in aship. Her mother must have been a _lupa_ also, and she herself theresult of a meeting with a mariner. The name of Bacchis, which had beengiven her when she was little, had been borne by many famous courtesansof Greece. No doubt she had been sold to some old woman by the pilot whohad brought her to Saguntum, and, while still a child, long beforecoming to maturity, was visited in the old woman's hut by aged merchantsof the port or libertines of the city.

  When her owner died she became a _lupa_, and passed into submission tomariners, fishermen, shepherds from the mountains, and to all the brutalhorde which swarmed around the port. She was not yet twenty, but she wasaged, disfigured, wasted by excesses and by blows. She had always seenthe city from a distance. She had only entered it twice. The _lupas_were not tolerated there. They were allowed to remain near the fane ofAphrodite, as a guarantee of the security of Saguntum, that thus therabble which came to the port from all lands might be held at adistance, but in the city the Iberians of cleanly habits becameindignant at the mere sight of the wantons, and the corrupt Greeks weretoo refined in their tastes to feel pity for those sellers of the bodywho fell like beasts beside the roadway for a bunch of grapes or ahandful of nuts.

  There in the shadow of the temple of Aphrodite she had spent her life,ever awaiting new ships and new men, hairy and obscene, brutal assatyrs, made ferocious by the abstinence of the sea, to be at lastassassinated in some mariners' fight, or found the victim of hunger,dead beside some abandoned boat.

  "And you--who are you?" Bacchis asked at last. "What is your name?"

  "My name is Actaeon; my native land is Athens. I have traveled over theworld; in some parts I have been a soldier, in others a navigator; Ihave fought, I have trafficked, and I have even written verses, anddiscussed with philosophers things which you do not understand. I havebeen rich many times, and now you give me food. That is all my story."

  Bacchis looked at him with eyes full of admiration, divining through hisconcise words a past crammed with adventures, with terrible dangers andprodigious changes of fortune. She thought of the deeds of Achilles, andof the adventurous life of Ulysses, so often heard in the versesdeclaimed by Greek mariners when they were drunk.

  The courtesan, reclining on the Greek's breast, fondled his hair. TheGreek, grateful, smiled fraternally on Bacchis, with indifference, as ifshe were a child.

  Two mariners came out from among the huts, and began to stagger alongthe wharf. A penetrating howl, which seemed to cleave the air, soundedclose to Actaeon's ears. His companion, impelled by habit, with theinstinct of the vendor who sees a customer in the distance, had arisento her feet.

  "I will return, my master. I had almost forgotten the terrible Lais. Imust give her her money before the sun rises. She will beat me as shehas done before if I do not fulfill my promise. Wait for me here."

  Repeating her wild howl, she went in search of the sailors, who hadstopped, hailing the "she-wolf's" cries with loud laughter and obscenewords.

  When the Greek found himself alone, his hunger placated, he felt acertain disgust in thinking of his recent adventure. Actaeon theAthenian, he for whom the richest hetaerae of the beautiful city used todispute in the Cerameicus, protected and adored by a strumpet of theport! To avoid meeting her again he hurriedly left the temple steps,losing himself in the streets by the harbor.

  Again he stopped before the hostelry in the doorway of which he hadexperienced the torment of hunger. The sailors were in the midst of anorgy. The tavern keeper could barely command respect behind thecounter. The slaves, terrified by blows, had taken refuge in thekitchen. Some amphorae lay broken on the floor letting the wine escapelike streams of blood, and the drunken men wallowed in the gurglingliquid as it soaked into the earthen floor, calling for drinks of whichthey had vaguely heard on distant voyages, or for fantastic dishesconceived by the little tyrants of Asia. One Herculean Egyptian wasrunning on all fours imitating the growl of the jackal, and biting thewomen who had entered the tavern. Some negroes were disporting withfeminine movements, as if hypnotized by the whirling of the umbilicaldance. In the corners, on the stone benches, men and women embraced inthe crude light of the torches; the smell of bare and sweaty fleshmingled with the aroma of wine; in the atmosphere of viands and ofwild-beast odor, seamen, forgetting shame, committed crimes peculiar tothe aberration of the epoch.

  In the midst of this disorder a few men stood motionless near thecounter, arguing with apparent calmness. They were two Roman soldiers,an old Carthaginian mariner, and a Celtiberian. The torpid slowness oftheir words, which in their anger acquired flute-like tones, theirinflamed and blood-shot eyes, and their hawk-like noses, seeming to growsharper as they talked, revealed that terrible drunkenness, stubborn andquarrelsome, which culminates in murder.

  The Roman was telling of his presence in the combat on the AEgatesislands, fourteen years before.

  "I know you," he said insolently to the Carthaginian. "You are arepublic of merchants born for lying and bad faith. If someone who knowshow to sell at top prices and cheat the buyer is wanted, I agree thatyou stand first; but talking of soldiers, of men, we are the best, wesons of Rome, who grasp the plow in one hand and the lance in theother."

  He proudly raised his round head with its close-cropped hair and shavencheeks, on which the chin-straps of his helmet had worn hard callousedlines.

  Actaeon looked through the window at the Celtiberian, the only one of thegroup who remained silent, but who had his glittering eyes fastened uponthe bare neck showing above the Roman legionary's bronze corselet, as ifattracted by the coarse veins outlined beneath the skin. Surely theGreek had seen those eyes before; they were like an old acquaintancewhose name one cannot recall. There was something artificial about hisperson, which the Greek divined with his keen perception.

  "I would swear by Mercury that that man is not what he pretends to be.He looks something more than a shepherd, and the bronze color of hisface is not that of the Celtiberians, no matter how sunburned they maybe. Perhaps that long hair which falls around his shoulders isfalse----"

  He was unable to observe him longer because of the dispute between thelegionary and the old Carthaginian, who gradually approached each otherto hear better in the midst of the clamor which reigned in the tavern.

  "I also was on that sad expedition to the AEgates," said theCarthaginian; "there is where I received this wound that crosses myface. It is true that you conquered us; but what does that show? Manytimes did I see your ships flee before ours, and more than once Icounted Roman corpses by the hundred on the fields of Sicily. Ah, ifHanno had not arrived too late that day of the combat at the islands! IfHamilcar had only had reinforcements!"

  "Hamilcar!" disdainfully exclaimed the Roman. "A great chief who had tosue for peace! A merchant turned warrior!"

  And he laughed with the insolence of the strong, not fearing the angerof the old Carthaginian, who began to stammer an answer.

  The Celtiberian, who had remained silent, laid his hand upon the oldman.

  "Silence, Carthaginian! The Roman is right. You are peddlers incapableof measuring up with them in war. You love money too much to dominate bythe sword. But Carthage is not made of those of your breed; there areothers born there who will know how to stand up before those peasants ofItaly!"

  The Roman, seeing the rustic intervene in the dispute, became still morearrogant and insolent.

  "And who can that be?" he shouted scornfully. "The son of Hamilcar? Thatyoungster who they say h
ad a slave for a mother?"

  "Those who founded your city, Roman, were sons of a prostitute, and theday is not far distant when the horse of Carthage shall trample underfoot the wolf of Romulus!"

  The legionary arose trembling with fury, feeling for his sword, but hesuddenly gave a savage growl and fell, pressing his hands against histhroat.

  Actaeon had seen the Celtiberian introduce his right hand into the sleeveof his sagum, and, drawing a knife, stab the legionary in the thick neckhe had been staring at with the fixity of a wild beast while the fallenman mocked at Carthage.

  The tavern shook with the strain of the combat. The other Roman seeinghis companion down, hurled himself at the Celtiberian with raised sword,but quick as a flash he received a thrust in the face and was blinded bya stream of blood.

  The agility of the man was astounding. His movements had the elasticityof the panther; blows seemed to rebound from his body without doing himharm. Around him fell a shower of jars, of broken amphorae, of swordshurled through the air; but with extended arm, and knife held beforehim, he made a spring toward the door and disappeared.

  "After him! After him!" clamored the Romans, starting in pursuit.

  Attracted by the brutal joy of a man hunt, all who were sober enough toretain mastery of their legs followed him out of the hostelry. The hordeof men, fired by the sight of blood, sprang over the bodies of the dyingRoman and the drunken sailors who lay snoring near him. The Greek sawthem break up into groups, running in all directions after theCeltiberian, who had disappeared a few steps distant from the hostelryas if dissolved into the shadow of the night.

  The port thrilled with the ardor of the chase. Lights flashed along thewharves and through the village streets; the lupanars and taverns weresubjected to a brutal overhauling by the Romans who were mad with fury;a fresh fight started at the door of every hut; blood was about to flowanew, when the Greek, fearing to become involved in a riot, fled to thetemple. Bacchis had not returned, and the Greek climbed up the stepsand stretched out on the portico, a broad terrace paved with bluemarble, over which the fluted columns supporting the pediment flungoblique bars of shadow.

  When Actaeon awoke he felt the warmth of the sun on his face. Birds weresinging in the olive trees, and he heard voices near. As he arose he wassurprised to see that day had dawned, for it seemed but a few minuteshad passed since he fell asleep.

  A woman, a patrician, stood not far away, smiling upon him. She wasrobed in a flowing white linen mantle which fell to her feet in gracefulfolds like the drapery of statues. A few curls of blonde hair fell overher forehead. Her lips were painted red, and her black eyes, velvety,and with a silky caress in their gaze, were surrounded by blue circlessuggesting a night of fatigue. Moving her arms beneath her mantle,hidden ornaments jingled with silvery tones, and the toe of her sandal,peeping from beneath the border of her garment, shone like a jewelledstar.

  She was followed by two slender Celtiberian slaves, their brown,swelling breasts almost bare, their limbs wrapped in multicolored cloth.One carried a pair of white doves, the other bore on her head a basketof roses.

  Actaeon recognized Polyanthus, the Saguntine pilot, and also the perfumedyoung gallant who had been on the wharf with another horseman when theship came in, standing near the handsome patrician.

  The Greek arose, amazed at the beautiful apparition smiling upon him.

  "Athenian," she said in Greek of the purest accent, "I am Sonnica, themistress of the ship which brought you hither. Polyanthus is myfreedman and he has done well in giving you passage, for he is aware ofmy interest in your people. Who are you?"

  "I am Actaeon, and I ask the gods to shower blessings upon you for yourkindness. May Venus guard your beauty while you live."

  "Are you a navigator? Are you engaged in commerce? Are you travelingabout the world giving lessons in rhetoric and poetry?"

  "I am a soldier, as were all my ancestors. My grandfather died in Italycovering with his body the great Pyrrhus who wept for him as for abrother. My father was a captain of mercenaries in the service ofCarthage, and was cruelly assassinated in the war called 'inexorable.'"

  He was silent a moment as if overcome by this recollection. His voicechoked, but presently he added: "I fought until recently under theorders of Cleomenes, the last Lacedaemonian. I was one of his companions,and when the hero suffered defeat I accompanied him to Alexandria,afterward traveling over the world because I could not endure theinactivity of exile. I have also been a merchant in Rhodes, a fishermanon the Bosphorus, a farmer in Egypt, and a satirical poet in Athens."

  The handsome Sonnica approached him smiling. He was an Athenianpossessed of all the qualities so loved by her; one of those adventurersaccustomed to rapid changes of fortune, rounders of the world, whofrequently chronicle their achievements when they have reached old age.

  "And why have you come hither?"

  "I have come by chance. Your pilot offered to bring me to Zacynthus, andI came. I felt stifled in New Carthage. I might have enlisted inHannibal's army; it would have been sufficient perhaps to have revealedmy origin to meet with welcome. The Greeks are paid great prices inevery army. But a war is in progress here also, and I prefer to goagainst the Turdetani, to serve a city which I do not know, but whichhas never done me any harm."

  "And did you sleep here last night? Could you not find a bed in any ofthe inns?"

  "What I could not find was an obolus in my pouch. If I appeased myhunger, it was due to the charity of a forlorn harlot who shared hermeagre supper with me. I am poor, and I was faint for food. Do not pityme, Sonnica. Do not look upon me with eyes of compassion. I have givenbanquets which lasted from sunset until dawn. In Rhodes, at the hour ofthe songs, we used to throw the metal plates out of the windows to theslaves. The life of a man should be thus, like Homer's heroes, a king inone place and a beggar in another."

  Polyanthus looked upon the adventurer with interest, and the elegantLachares, who had at first opposed Sonnica when she wished to awaken soill-dressed a Greek, approached him, recognizing Athenian refinementbeneath his humble exterior, thinking to make a friend of him in thehope of receiving lessons to his advantage.

  "Come to my villa at sunset to-day," said Sonnica. "You shall dine withus. Anyone can guide you to my house. One of my ships has brought you tothis land, and I wish you to find hospitality beneath my roof.Farewell, Athenian. I also am from Athens, and seeing you I imagine thatthe golden lance of Pallas on the height by the Parthenon still shinesbefore my eyes."

  Bidding the Athenian farewell with a smile, Sonnica turned toward thetemple, followed by the slaves.

  Actaeon overhead the conversation of Lachares and Polyanthus outside thetemple. They had spent the night before at Sonnica's house. They hadleft the table at dawn. Lachares still wore his banquet crown, but theroses were withered and falling to pieces. When Sonnica heard of thearrival of the dancing girls from Gades, whom she had so impatientlyawaited to present at her suppers, she took a fancy to see Polyanthusand his ship, and she wished to make a sacrifice to Aphrodite inpassing, as she did whenever she went to the port. She had come in hergreat litter, accompanied by Lachares and the two slaves, proposing tosleep on the way back, for she generally stayed in bed until well pastthe hour of noon.

  The pilot withdrew and went toward his ship to disembark the troop ofdancers, and Actaeon walked with Lachares to the entrance of the opentemple.

  The interior was simple and beautiful. A great square space remainedroofless to allow the light to enter, and the sun's rays descendingthrough this opening gave the changing bluish green of sea-water to theazure columns with their capitals representing shells, dolphins, andcupids grasping the oar. At the lower end in a soft penumbra, laden withthe perfumes of the sacrifices, stood the goddess, white, arrogant, andproud in her nudity as when she first emerged from the waves before theastonished eyes of men.

  The altar was near the door. Before it stood the priest in a full linenmantle, held to his head by a crown of flowers, receiving the offerings
to the goddess from the hands of Sonnica herself.

  Coming out upon the peristyle she swept with a loving glance the expanseof whitecapped sea, the port glistening like a triple mirror, theimmense green valley, and the distant city, gilded by the first rays ofthe morning sun.

  "How beautiful! Look at our city, Actaeon! Greece is not more exquisite."

  At the foot of the great stone steps was her palanquin, which was averitable house closed by purple curtains, decorated at their fourcorners with plumes of ostrich feathers. It was borne by eight athleticslaves with swelling muscles.

  Sonnica ordered her women to enter this ambulatory dwelling; she pushedin Lachares, whom she treated as an inferior, and whose familiarity wastolerated as one of her caprices; and, turning toward the Greek, whostood on an upper step of the temple, she smiled once more, bidding himfarewell with a wave of a hand covered to the fingernails with rings,which at every movement traced streams of light through the air.

  The litter swiftly disappeared along the city road, when suddenly Actaeonbecame aware of hands caressing his neck.

  It was Bacchis, looking still more wasted and ragged in the light ofday. She had one eye blackened, and bruised spots on her arms.

  "I could not come before," said the slave humbly. "They only let meloose a little while ago. What people! They barely gave me enough topay Lais. I have been thinking of you all night, god of mine, while theywere tormenting me, blowing in my face like tired satyrs."

  Actaeon turned away, shrinking from her caresses. He perceived the odorof wine on the wretched woman, drunk and exhausted after the adventuresof the night.

  "You run away from me? Yes, I understand! I saw you talking with Sonnicathe rich, she whom her friends call the most beautiful woman inZacynthus. Are you going to be her lover? Oh, I know that she will adoreyou. But she is only another like myself. Tell me, Actaeon, why do younot take me with you? Why do you not make me your slave? My price willbe only one night with you."

  The Greek pushed aside the thin arms which tried to embrace him, inorder to see the road where trumpets were blaring, and helmets andlances were gleaming, in the midst of a great cloud of dust.

  "Those are the legates from Rome who are leaving to-day," said thewoman.

  Attracted by the charm which men of war exercised upon her childishmind, she ran down the steps to obtain a closer view of the ambassadorsand their retinue.

  In advance marched the trumpeters of the Roman ship, blowing their longmetal tubas, their cheeks bound by broad woolen bands. An escort ofcitizens of Saguntum surrounded the ambassadors, making their shaggyCeltiberian horses caracole, waving their lances, their heads coveredwith triple-crested helmets which still bore the dents from blowsreceived in their latest skirmishes with the Turdetani. Some old men ofthe Saguntine senate rode sedately on heavy horses, their long beardscovering their breasts. Their dark mantles, held upon their heads byembroidered tiaras, swept to their stirrups in heavy folds. The Romanensign, over-topped by the wolf, was carried by a strong _classiarius_,and behind it rode the legates, their round, shaven heads uncovered. Onewas obese, and had a fat, triple chin; the other was spare, nervous,with a sharp aquiline nose; both wore embossed bronze cuirasses; theirlegs were covered with metal greaves, and over their protuberant thighshung skirts the color of wine-lees, trimmed with loose strips of goldwhich quivered at the slightest movement of their steeds.

  As the procession reached the wharf, where swarmed groups of sailors,fishermen, and slaves, they met a band of women wrapped in theirmantles, who were walking along guided by an old man with insolent eyesand sunken mouth, wearing that repulsive aspect acquired by eunuchs wholive perpetually in the company of enslaved women. They were the dancinggirls from Gades, who, as they left Polyanthus' ship, passed unnoticedin the hubbub of the leave-taking.

  Some women, issuing from the fish-wharves, offered the legates crowns offlowers gathered from the neighboring hills, and lilies from thelagoons. Acclamations arose throughout the entire length of the quay,witnessed by groups of indifferent sailors from all countries.

  "Hail to Rome! May Neptune protect you! The gods accompany you!"

  Actaeon heard a mocking laugh behind him, and as he turned he saw theCeltiberian shepherd who had killed the legionary in the tavern thenight before.

  "You here?" the Greek exclaimed with surprise. "Are you alone, and doyou not hide from the Romans who seek you?"

  The imperious eyes of the shepherd, those strange eyes which aroused inthe Greek confused and inexplicable memories, looked at him witharrogance.

  "The Romans! I hate and despise them! I would go without fear even tothe deck of their ship! Mind your own affairs, Actaeon, and don't meddlein mine."

  "How do you know my name?" exclaimed the Athenian with growingamazement, wondering also at the perfection with which the rude shepherdused the Greek tongue.

  "I know your name and your life. You are the son of Lysias, a captain inthe service of Carthage, and, like all of your race, you wheel aroundthe world, without finding contentment in any part."

  The Greek, so strong and sure of himself on most occasions, feltintimidated in the presence of this enigmatic man.

  Absorbed in the contemplation of the cortege which had come to bidfarewell to the legates, he had turned his back on Actaeon. His eyesexpressed hatred and scorn as he saw the bronze wolf of the Romanstandard flash in the sunlight, hailed with enthusiasm by theSaguntines.

  "They think themselves strong; they think themselves safe, because Romeprotects them. They imagine Carthage dead, because her Senate ofshopkeepers is afraid to provoke an issue with an ally of Rome. Theyhave beheaded the Saguntine friends of the Carthaginian, those who ofold were friends of the Barcas, and used to go out to greet Hamilcarwhen he passed near the city on his expeditions. They do not know thatthere is one who will not sleep as long as peace exists. The world isnot wide enough for these two peoples; either the one or the other!"

  As if the acclamations of the multitude shouting farewells toward thesmall boat in which the legates were being borne to the liburna and thetrumpet blasts which burst forth from the poop of the vessel, werewhiplashes to the shepherd, with clenched teeth and eyes red with fury,he shook his sinewy arms at the ship and muttered in menacing tones:

  "Rome!----Rome!"