nts behind her head to
make a cushion for her. He sought for means to serve her, and to humble
himself, and he even spread the zaimph over her feet as if it were a
mere rug.

"Have you still," he said, "those little gazelle's horns on which your
necklaces hang? You will give them to me! I love them!" For he spoke
as if the war were finished, and joyful laughs broke from him. The
Mercenaries, Hamilcar, every obstacle had now disappeared. The moon was
gliding between two clouds. They could see it through an opening in the
tent. "Ah, what nights have I spent gazing at her! she seemed to me like
a veil that hid your face; you would look at me through her; the memory
of you was mingled with her beams; then I could no longer distinguish
you!" And with his head between her breasts he wept copiously.

"And this," she thought, "is the formidable man who makes Carthage
tremble!"

He fell asleep. Then disengaging herself from his arm she put one foot
to the ground, and she perceived that her chainlet was broken.

The maidens of the great families were accustomed to respect these
shackles as something that was almost religious, and Salammbo, blushing,
rolled the two pieces of the golden chain around her ankles.

Carthage, Megara, her house, her room, and the country that she had
passed through, whirled in tumultuous yet distinct images through her
memory. But an abyss had yawned and thrown them far back to an infinite
distance from her.

The storm was departing; drops of water splashing rarely, one by one,
made the tent-roof shake.

Matho slept like a drunken man, stretched on his side, and with one arm
over the edge of the couch. His band of pearls was raised somewhat, and
uncovered his brow; his teeth were parted in a smile; they shone through
his black beard, and there was a silent and almost outrageous gaiety in
his half-closed eyelids.

Salammbo looked at him motionless, her head bent and her hands crossed.

A dagger was displayed on the table of cypress-wood at the head of the
bed; the sight of the gleaming blade fired her with a sanguinary desire.
Mournful voices lingered at a distance in the shade, and like a chorus
of geniuses urged her on. She approached it; she seized the steel by the
handle. At the rustling of her dress Matho half opened his eyes, putting
forth his mouth upon her hands, and the dagger fell.

Shouts arose; a terrible light flashed behind the canvas. Matho raised
the latter; they perceived the