relatives and friends who had died far away during the war. Waxen
statues with clothes and hair were displayed across the gates. They

melted in the heat of the tapers burning beside them; the paint flowed
down upon their shoulders, and tears streamed over the faces of the

living, as they chanted mournful songs beside them. The crowd
meanwhile ran to and fro; armed bands passed; captains shouted orders,

while the shock of the rams beating against the rampart was constantly
heard.

The temperature became so heavy that the bodies swelled and would no
longer fit into the coffins. They were burned in the centre of the

courts. But the fires, being too much confined, kindled the
neighbouring walls, and long flames suddenly burst from the houses

like blood spurting from an artery. Thus Moloch was in possession of
Carthage; he clasped the ramparts, he rolled through the streets, he

devoured the very corpses.
Men wearing cloaks made of collected rags in token of despair,

stationed themselves at the corners of the cross-ways. They declaimed
against the Ancients and against Hamilcar, predicted complete ruin to

the people, and invited them to universaldestruction and license. The
most dangerous were the henbane-drinkers; in their crisis they

believed themselves wild beasts, and leaped upon the passers-by to
rend them. Mobs formed around them, and the defence of Carthage was

forgotten. The Suffet devised the payment of others to support his
policy.

In order to retain the genius of the gods within the town their images
had been covered with chains. Black veils were placed upon the Pataec

gods, and hair-cloths around the altars; and attempts were made to
excite the pride and jealousy of the Baals by singing in their ears:

"Thou art about to suffer thyself to be vanquished! Are the others
perchance more strong? Show thyself! aid us! that the peoples may not

say: 'Where are now their gods?'"
The colleges of the pontiffs were agitated by unceasing anxiety. Those

of Rabbetna were especially afraid--the restoration of the zaimph
having been of no avail. They kept themselves shut up in the third

enclosure which was as impregnable as a fortress. Only one among them,
the high priest Schahabarim, ventured to go out.

He used to visit Salammbo. But he would either remain perfectly
silent, gazing at her with fixed eyeballs, or else would be lavish of

words, and the reproaches that he uttered were harder than ever.
With inconceivable inconsistency he could not forgive the young girl

for carrying out his commands; Schahabarim had guessed all, and this
haunting thought revived the jealousies of his impotence. He accused

her of being the cause of the war. Matho, according to him, was
besieging Carthage to recover the zaimph; and he poured out

imprecations and sarcasms upon this Barbarian who pretended to the
possession of holy things. Yet it was not this that the priest wished

to say.
But just now Salammbo felt no terror of him. The anguish which she

used formerly to suffer had left her. A strange peacefulness possessed
her. Her gaze was less wandering, and shone with limpid fire.

Meanwhile the python had become ill again; and as Salammbo, on the
contrary, appeared to be recovering, old Taanach rejoiced in the

conviction that by its decline it was taking away the languor of her
mistress.

One morning she found it coiled up behind the bed of ox-hides, colder
than marble, and with its head hidden by a heap of worms. Her cries

brought Salammbo to the spot. She turned it over for a while with the
tip of her sandal, and the slave was amazed at her insensibility.

Hamilcar's daughter no longer prolonged her fasts with so much
fervour. She passed whole days on the top of her terrace, leaning her

elbows against the balustrade, and amusing herself by looking out
before her. The summits of the walls at the end of the town cut uneven

zigzags upon the sky, and the lances of the sentries formed what was
like a border of corn-ears throughout their length. Further away she

could see the manoeuvres of the Barbarians between the towers; on days
when the siege was interrupted she could even distinguish their

occupations. They mended their weapons, greased their hair, and washed
their bloodstained arms in the sea; the tents were closed; the beasts

of burden were feeding; and in the distance the scythes of the
chariots, which were all ranged in a semicircle, looked like a silver

scimitar lying at the base of the mountains. Schahabarim's talk
recurred to her memory. She was waiting for Narr' Havas, her

betrothed. In spite of her hatred she would have liked to see Matho
again. Of all the Carthaginians she was perhaps the only one who would

have spoken to him without fear.
Her father often came into her room. He would sit down panting on the

cushions, and gaze at her with an almost tender look, as if he found
some rest from her fatigues in the sight of her. He sometimes

questioned her about her journey to the camp of the Mercenaries. He
even asked her whether any one had urged her to it; and with a shake

of the head she answered, No,--so proud was Salammbo of having saved
the zaimph.

But the Suffet always came back to Matho under pretence of making
military inquiries. He could not understand how the hours which she

had spent in the tent had been employed. Salammbo, in fact, said
nothing about Gisco; for as words had an effective power in

themselves, curses, if reported to any one, might be turned against
him; and she was silent about her wish to assassinate, lest she should

be blamed for not having yielded to it. She said that the schalischim
appeared furious, that he had shouted a great deal, and that he had

then fallen asleep. Salammbo told no more, through shame perhaps, or
else because she was led by her extreme ingenuousness to attach but

little importance to the soldier's kisses. Moreover, it all floated
through her head in a melancholy and misty fashion, like the

recollection of a depressing dream; and she would not have known in
what way or in what words to express it.

One evening when they were thus face to face with each other, Taanach
came in looking quite scared. An old man with a child was yonder in

the courts, and wished to see the Suffet.
Hamilcar turned pale, and then quickly replied:

"Let him come up!"
Iddibal entered without prostrating himself. He held a young boy,

covered with a goat's-hair cloak, by the hand, and at once raised the
hood which screened his face.

"Here he is, Master! Take him!"
The Suffet and the slave went into a corner of the room.

The child remained in the centre standingupright, and with a gaze of
attention rather than of astonishment he surveyed the ceiling, the

furniture, the pearl necklaces trailing on the purple draperies, and
the majesticmaiden who was bending over towards him.

He was perhaps ten years old, and was not taller than a Roman sword.
His curly hair shaded his swelling forehead. His eyeballs looked as if

they were seeking for space. The nostrils of his delicate nose were
broad and palpitating, and upon his whole person was displayed the

indefinable splendour of those who are destined to great enterprises.
When he had cast aside his extremely heavy cloak, he remained clad in

a lynx skin, which was fastened about his waist, and he rested his
little naked feet, which were all white with dust, resolutely upon the

pavement. But he no doubt divined that important matters were under
discussion, for he stood motionless" target="_blank" title="a.静止的；固定的">motionless, with one hand behind his back,

his chin lowered, and a finger in his mouth.
At last Hamilcar attracted Salammbo with a sign and said to her in a

low voice:
"You will keep him with you, you understand! No one, even though

belonging to the house, must know of his existence!"
Then, behind the door, he again asked Iddibal whether he was quite

sure that they had not been noticed.
"No!" said the slave, "the streets were empty."

As the war filled all the provinces he had feared for his master's
son. Then, not knowing where to hide him, he had come along the coasts