and broken things.
Often a creature clothed in tatters, with earthy face and flaming eyes
would emerge from these ruins. But he would very quickly begin to run or
would disappear into a hole. Salammbo and her guide did not stop.

Deserted plains succeeded one another. Charcoal dust which was raised by
their feet behind them, stretched in unequal trails over large spaces
of perfectly white soil. Sometimes they came upon little peaceful spots,
where a brook flowed amid the long grass; and as they ascended the other
bank Salammbo would pluck damp leaves to cool her hands. At the corner
of a wood of rose-bays her horse shied violently at the corpse of a man
which lay extended on the ground.

The slave immediately settled her again on the cushions. He was one of
the servants of the Temple, a man whom Schahabarim used to employ on
perilous missions.

With extreme precaution he now went on foot beside her and between the
horses; he would whip the animals with the end of a leathern lace wound
round his arm, or would perhaps take balls made of wheat, dates, and
yolks of eggs wrapped in lotus leaves from a scrip hanging against his
breast, and offer them to Salammbo without speaking, and running all the
time.

In the middle of the day three Barbarians clad in animals' skins crossed
their path. By degrees others appeared wandering in troops of ten,
twelve, or twenty-five men; many were driving goats or a limping cow.
Their heavy sticks bristled with brass points; cutlasses gleamed in
their clothes, which were savagely dirty, and they opened their eyes
with a look of menace and amazement. As they passed some sent them a
vulgar benediction; others obscene jests, and Schahabarim's man replied
to each in his own idiom. He told them that this was a sick youth going
to be cured at a distant temple.

However, the day was closing in. Barkings were heard, and they
approached them.

Then in the twilight they perceived an enclosure of dry stones shutting
in a rambling edifice. A dog was running along the top of the wall. The
slave threw some pebbles at him and they entered a lofty vaulted hall.

A woman was crouching in the centre warming herself at a fire of
brushwood, the smoke of which escaped through the holes in the ceiling.
She was half hidden by her white hair which fell to her knees; and
unwilling to answer, she muttered with idiotic look words of vengeance
against the Barbarians and the Carthaginians.

The runner ferreted