“Until the next night, Barca, in the temple of Eschmoun!”

“I shall be there!”

“We will have you condemned by the rich!”

“And I you by the people!”

“Take care that you do not end on the cross!”

“And you that you are not torn to pieces in the streets!”

As soon as they were on the threshold of the court they again assumed a calm demeanour.

Their runners and coachmen were waiting for them at the door.  Most of them departed on white mules.  The Suffet leaped into his chariot and took the reins; the two animals, curving their necks, and rhythmically beating the resounding pebbles, went up the whole of the Mappalian Way at full gallop, and the silver vulture at the extremity of the pole seemed to fly, so quickly did the chariot pass along.

The road crossed a field planted with slabs of stone, which were painted on the top like pyramids, and had open hands carved out in the centre as if all the dead men lying beneath had stretched them out towards heaven to demand something.  Next there came scattered cabins built of earth, branches, and bulrush-hurdles, and all of a conical shape.  These dwellings, which became constantly denser as the road ascended towards the Suffet’s gardens, were irregularly separated from one another by little pebble walls, trenches of spring water, ropes of esparto-grass, and nopal hedges.  But Hamilcar’s eyes were fastened on a great tower, the three storys of which formed three monster cylinders—­the first being built of stone, the second of brick, and the third all of cedar—­supporting a copper cupola upon twenty-four pillars of juniper, from which slender interlacing chains of brass hung down after the manner of garlands.  This lofty edifice overlooked the buildings—­the emporiums and mercantile houses—­which stretched to the right, while the women’s palace rose at the end of the cypress trees, which were ranged in line like two walls of bronze.

When the echoing chariot had entered through the narrow gateway it stopped beneath a broad shed in which there were shackled horses eating from heaps of chopped grass.

All the servants hastened up.  They formed quite a multitude, those who worked on the country estates having been brought to Carthage through fear of the soldiers.  The labourers, who were clad in animals’ skins, had chains riveted to their ankles and trailing after them; the workers in the purple factories had arms as red as those of executioners; the sailors wore green caps; the fishermen coral necklaces; the huntsmen carried nets on their shoulders; and the people belonging to Megara wore black or white tunics, leathern drawers, and caps of straw, felt or linen, according to their service or their different occupations.

Behind pressed a tattered populace.  They lived without employment remote from the apartments, slept at night in the gardens, ate the refuse from the kitchens,—­a human mouldiness vegetating in the shadow of the palace.  Hamilcar tolerated them from foresight even more than from scorn.  They had all put a flower in the ear in token of their joy, and many of them had never seen him.