the brass plates of which were tearing the purple of the couch. A

necklace of silver moons was tangled in his hairy breast. His face was
stained with splashes of blood; he was leaning on his left elbow with

a smile on his large, open mouth.
Salammbo had abandoned the sacredrhythm. With a woman's subtlety she

was simultaneously employing all the dialects of the Barbarians in
order to appease their anger. To the Greeks she spoke Greek; then she

turned to the Ligurians, the Campanians, the Negroes, and listening to
her each one found again in her voice the sweetness of his native

land. She now, carried away by the memories of Carthage, sang of the
ancient battles against Rome; they applauded. She kindled at the

gleaming of the naked swords, and cried aloud with outstretched arms.
Her lyre fell, she was silent; and, pressing both hands upon her

heart, she remained for some minutes with closed eyelids enjoying the
agitation of all these men.

Matho, the Libyan, leaned over towards her. Involuntarily she
approached him, and impelled by grateful pride, poured him a long

stream of wine into 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 same
that had been hurt by Gisco, struck him on the shoulder, while in a

jovial 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 the

nuptials be?"
"What nuptials?"

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

He had not finished when Narr' Havas, with a bound, drew a javelin
from 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 last

he lifted the over-laden table with both arms, and flung it against
Narr' Havas into the very centre of the crowd that rushed between

them. The soldiers and Numidians pressed together so closely that they
were unable to draw their swords. Matho advanceddealing great blows

with his head. When he raised it, Narr' Havas had disappeared. He
sought for him with his eyes. Salammbo also was gone.

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

They saw him run between the prows of the galleys, and then reappear
along the three staircases until he reached the red door against which

he dashed his whole body. Panting, he leaned against the wall to keep
himself from falling.

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

Spendius.
"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

the shadow to discover the wound.
By a ray of the moon which was then gliding between the clouds,

Spendius perceived a gaping wound in the middle of the arm. He rolled
the piece of stuff about it, but the other said irritably, "Leave me!

leave me!"
"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 strained

his ears at every step, glancing down into the silent apartments
through the spaces between the gilded reeds. At last he stopped with a

look of despair.
"Listen!" said the slave to him. "Oh! do not despise me for my

feebleness! I have lived in the palace. I can wind like a viper
through the walls. Come! in the Ancestor's Chamber there is an ingot

of gold beneath 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 gigantic

billows of a black and petrified ocean.
But a luminous bar rose towards the East; far below, on the left, the

canals of Megara were beginning to stripe the verdure of the gardens
with their windings of white. The conical roofs of the heptagonal

temples, the staircases, terraces, and ramparts were being carved by
degrees upon the paleness of the dawn; and a girdle of white foam

rocked around the Carthaginian peninsula, while the emerald sea
appeared as if it were curdled in the freshness of the morning. Then

as the rosy sky grew larger, the lofty houses, bending over the
sloping soil, reared and massed themselves like a herd of black goats

coming down from the mountains. The deserted streets lengthened; the
palm-trees that topped the walls here and there were motionless" target="_blank" title="a.静止的；固定的">motionless; the

brimming cisterns seemed like silver bucklers lost in the courts; the
beacon on the promontory of Hermaeum was beginning to grow pale. The

horses of Eschmoun, on the very summit of the Acropolis in the cypress
wood, feeling that the light was coming, placed their hoofs on the

marble parapet, and neighed towards the sun.
It appeared, and Spendius raised his arms with a cry.

Everything stirred in a diffusion of red, for the god, as if he were
rending himself, now poured full-rayed upon Carthage the golden rain

of his veins. The beaks of the galleys sparkled, the roof of Khamon
appeared to be all in flames, while far within the temples, whose

doors were opening, glimmerings of light could be seen. Large
chariots, arriving from the country, rolled their wheels over the

flagstones in 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 Tanith might be heard the tabourines of the sacred courtesans, and

the furnaces for baking the clay coffins were beginning to smoke on
the Mappalian point.

Spendius leaned over the terrace; his teeth chattered and he repeated:
"Ah! yes--yes--master! I understand why you scorned the pillage of the

house just now."
Matho was as if he had just been awaked by the hissing of his voice,

and did not seem to understand. Spendius resumed:
"Ah! what riches! and the men who possess them have not even the steel

to defend them!"
Then, pointing with his right arm outstretched to some of the populace

who 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 every shore,
and the noise of the billows so fills her ear that she cannot hear

behind her the tread of a master's heel!"
He drew Matho to quite the other end of the terrace, and showed him

the garden, wherein the soldiers' swords, hanging on the trees, were
like mirrors in the sun.

"But here there are strong men whose hatred is roused! and nothing
binds them to Carthage, neither families, oaths nor gods!"

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

"Do you understand me, soldier? We should walk purple-clad like
satraps. We should bathe in perfumes; and I should in turn have

slaves! Are you not weary of sleeping on hard ground, of drinking the
vinegar of the camps, and of continuallyhearing the trumpet? But you