en
perhaps you were weeping, believing your hopes of glory dead, you beheld
from the height of the citadel of New Carthage a whole fleet coming from
Africa. Do you remember? Tell me! Do you remember how you received me?"

"Yes, and I shall never forget it," said Hannibal gently. "Those days
are my happiest memory."

"You received me as if I were a divinity, as if Ashtoreth, who illumines
our nights had descended from the sky to give you her protection. You
were oblivious to my warriors and saw only me, and scorning your
ambitions for the moment we spent the nights lying on the terrace of the
citadel, and the stars were witnesses to our interminable embraces. But,
alas! that joy was like the roses from Egypt which last but a day in the
vases of the rich women of Carthage. Soon the pride of conquest
returned to you, the ambition of the chieftain. You admired the training
of my Numidians more than my beauty when, of an afternoon, outside the
walls they astounded your old warriors by hurling darts while kneeling
on their horses, which ran so fast that they raised the dust with their
bellies. We went out to fight with the Olcades, the Vaccaei, all those
Iberian tribes which yesterday you fought and which to-day follow you.
Led by you I fought like a soldier, and I considered myself happy when
on the long marches, imitating our horses which lovingly put their heads
together, you bent toward me, striking your helmet against mine to kiss
me. Finally--not even that! What am I? One warrior more in your camp; a
friend worthy of gratitude, who brought you assistance on seeing you
abandoned by Carthage, with no other force than a handful of veterans
and some elephants. In the battles if you see me in danger you fly to
defend me; but afterwards, in the camp, on the long marches, a few words
of friendship, a cold smile as to any one of your captains. Your heart
has closed against me. Am I not Asbyte, she whom you knew in New
Carthage? Do you not love me when you see me made ugly and hardened by
war? Tell me that, and I will become a woman again, I will bedeck myself
with jewels, I will abandon my Amazons and surround myself with Greek
slaves, I will cover myself with ointments which will change my skin
back to its pristine freshness, and I will follow you on your marches
lying on a litter with curtains of purple."

"No!" Hannibal made haste to reply, with enthusiasm. "I love you as you
are. The beloved of Hannibal can only be an Ama