nge diseases engendered by the
congestion of the population.

There were still enough provisions, but there was lack of fruits and
vegetables; and the rich, divining the future, gathered in all they
could, seeing days of want ahead.

In the poor wards they killed the horses and beasts of burden, roasting
the meat over flames kindled in the streets for the roofless refugees.

On the walls, as well as on the Acropolis, all gazed impatiently out to
sea. When would the auxiliaries come from Rome? What were the legates
from Saguntum to the great Republic doing?

Frequently impatience caused the whole city to be cruelly deceived. Some
mornings the lookouts posted in the tower of Hercules on the Acropolis
raised a furious clangor of cymbals on spying sails upon the horizon.
The people rushed to the crest of the hill, following with anxious eyes
the course of the white or red sails over the blue surface of the
Sucronian gulf. It was they! The Romans! The advance ships of the
succoring fleet bound for the port! But after hours of anguishing
expectancy, their hopes were crushed on seeing that they were passing
merchant ships from Massilia or Emporion, or hostile triremes which
Hasdrubal, the brother of Hannibal, was sending from New Carthage with
provisions for the army.

Each disappointment increased the melancholy of the Saguntines. The
enemy's ranks were ever swelling, and the allies failed to come! The
city would be lost! The enthusiasm of the defenders was revived only
when they found old Mopsus on the walls, who because of his sure aim at
Hannibal was the hero of the city, and the valorous Actaeon, who with the
light spirits of an Athenian, jesting and merry in the presence of
danger, knew how to inspire fresh courage.

Sonnica also appeared among them at the points of combat. She ran along
the walls amidst the hissing arrows, and the poor citizens marveled at
the bravery of the opulent Greek woman who scorned the missiles of the
enemy.

Love for Actaeon and hatred of the besiegers made her bold. She was
enraged at the Carthaginians. From the height of the Acropolis one
afternoon she had seen the flames pouring from the roof of her villa.
She saw the red tower of the dovecote topple, the beautiful groves which
surrounded her house cut down, leaving nothing but a mound of rubbish
and charred trunks; and she longed to be avenged, not for her lost
riches, but for the destruction of the secluded retreat sacred to her
l