t over for a while with the
tip of her sandal, and the slave was amazed at her insensibility.

Hamilcar's daughter no longer prolonged her fasts with so much fervour.
She passed whole days on the top of her terrace, leaning her elbows
against the balustrade, and amusing herself by looking out before her.
The summits of the walls at the end of the town cut uneven zigzags upon
the sky, and the lances of the sentries formed what was like a border
of corn-ears throughout their length. Further away she could see the
manoeuvres of the Barbarians between the towers; on days when the siege
was interrupted she could even distinguish their occupations. They
mended their weapons, greased their hair, and washed their bloodstained
arms in the sea; the tents were closed; the beasts of burden were
feeding; and in the distance the scythes of the chariots, which were all
ranged in a semicircle, looked like a silver scimitar lying at the base
of the mountains. Schahabarim's talk recurred to her memory. She was
waiting for Narr' Havas, her betrothed. In spite of her hatred she would
have liked to see Matho again. Of all the Carthaginians she was perhaps
the only one who would have spoken to him without fear.

Her father often came into her room. He would sit down panting on the
cushions, and gaze at her with an almost tender look, as if he found
some rest from her fatigues in the sight of her. He sometimes questioned
her about her journey to the camp of the Mercenaries. He even asked her
whether any one had urged her to it; and with a shake of the head she
answered, No,--so proud was Salammbo of having saved the zaimph.

But the Suffet always came back to Matho under pretence of making
military inquiries. He could not understand how the hours which she had
spent in the tent had been employed. Salammbo, in fact, said nothing
about Gisco; for as words had an effective power in themselves, curses,
if reported to any one, might be turned against him; and she was silent
about her wish to assassinate, lest she should be blamed for not having
yielded to it. She said that the schalischim appeared furious, that he
had shouted a great deal, and that he had then fallen asleep. Salammbo
told no more, through shame perhaps, or else because she was led by her
extreme ingenuousness to attach but little importance to the soldier's
kisses. Moreover, it all floated through her head in a melancholy and
misty fashion, like the recollection of a depressing d