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 continually hearing the trumpet?  But you will rest later, will you not?  When they pull off your cuirass to cast your corpse to the vultures! or perhaps blind, lame, and weak you will go, leaning on a stick, from door to door to tell of your youth to pickle-sellers and little children.  Remember all the injustice of your chiefs, the campings in the snow, the marchings in the sun, the tyrannies of discipline, and the everlasting menace of the cross!  And after all this misery they have given you a necklace of honour, as they hang a girdle of bells round the breast of an ass to deafen it on its journey, and prevent it from feeling fatigue.  A man like you, braver than Pyrrhus!  If only you had wished it!  Ah! how happy will you be in large cool halls, with the sound of lyres, lying on flowers, with women and buffoons!  Do not tell me that the enterprise is impossible.  Have not the Mercenaries already possessed Rhegium and other fortified places in Italy?  Who is to prevent you?  Hamilcar is away; the people execrate the rich; Gisco can do nothing with the cowards who surround him.  Command them!  Carthage is ours; let us fall upon it!”

“No!” said Matho, “the curse of Moloch weighs upon me.  I felt it in her eyes, and just now I saw a black ram retreating in a temple.”  Looking around him he added:  “But where is she?”

Then Spendius understood that a great disquiet possessed him, and did not venture to speak again.

The trees behind them were still smoking; half-burned carcases of apes dropped from their blackened boughs from time to time into the midst of the dishes.  Drunken soldiers snored open-mouthed by the side of the corpses, and those who were not asleep lowered their heads dazzled by the light of day.  The trampled soil was hidden beneath splashes of red.  The elephants poised their bleeding trunks between the stakes of their pens.  In the open granaries might be seen sacks of spilled wheat, below the gate was a thick line of chariots which had been heaped up by the Barbarians, and the peacocks perched in the cedars were spreading their tails and beginning to utter their cry.

Matho’s immobility, however, astonished Spendius; he was even paler than he had recently been, and he was following something on the horizon with fixed eyeballs, and with both fists resting on the edge of the terrace.  Spendius crouched down, and so at last discovered at what he was gazing.  In the distance a golden speck was turning in the dust on the road to Utica; it was the nave of a chariot drawn by two mules; a slave was running at the end of the pole, and holding them by the bridle.  Two women were seated in the chariot.  The manes of the animals were puffed between the ears after the Persian fashion, beneath a network of blue pearls.  Spendius recognised them, and restrained a cry.