on the banks of
the Baetis-Perkes, and the city opening like a great white fan down the
slope of the mount, enclosed by walls over which the close-packed houses
seemed to spring and scatter through the orchards.

Actaeon, turning his gaze toward the enclosed quarter of the Acropolis,
noticed the temple of Hercules; near it the portico on which the Senate
gathered; the mint where money was coined; the temple where the treasure
of the Republic was stored; the arsenal where the citizens were armed;
the barracks of the mercenaries; and, dominating all these buildings,
the tower of Hercules, an enormous cyclopean structure which at night
answered with its lights to the _speculae_ on the shore and on the hills
around the port, spreading alarm or giving tranquility throughout the
whole of the Saguntine territory. In another quarter a band of slaves,
directed by a Grecian artist, was putting the final touches on a small
temple which Sonnica the rich was having raised on the Acropolis in
honor of Minerva.

The Saguntines who were climbing up to the citadel for a quiet stroll,
proudly viewing their city and taking a look at the mercenaries who were
burnishing their swords and their bronze cuirasses at the doors of their
barracks, glanced curiously at the Greek.

A prosperous looking Saguntine, wrapped in a red toga in Roman fashion,
and leaning on a long staff, approached to speak to him. He was a middle
aged man, strong, with gray hair and beard, and a kindly expression in
his eyes and in his smile.

"Tell me, Greek," he asked sweetly, "why have you come hither? Are you a
merchant? Are you a navigator? Do you seek for your country the silver
which the Celtiberians bring us?"

"No, I am a poor man wandering about the world, and I have come to offer
myself to the Republic as a soldier."

The Saguntine made a gesture of distress.

"I should have guessed it by the arm which serves you as a staff....
Soldiers! Always soldiers! In other times not a sword nor a dart could
be seen in the city. Foreigners used to come in ships loaded with
merchandise; they took what we had, and in return they gave us what they
brought, and we lived in that peace of which the poets sing. But now,
those who come, whether Greek or Roman, African or Asiatic, present
themselves armed; ferocious dogs who come to offer themselves as guards
for the flock which used to frolic in peace without fear of enemies. As
I behold all this warlike preparation, as I