The staircase of the Acropolis had sixty steps. He descended them as
though he were rolled down in a torrent from the top of a mountain;
three times he was seen to leap, and then he alighted below on his feet.

His shoulders were bleeding, his breast was panting with great shocks;
and he made such efforts to burst his bonds that his arms, which were
crossed on his naked loins, swelled like pieces of a serpent.

Several streets began in front of him, leading from the spot at which he
found himself. In each of them a triple row of bronze chains fastened to
the navels of the Pataec gods extended in parallel lines from one end
to the other; the crowd was massed against the houses, and servants,
belonging to the Ancients, walked in the middle brandishing thongs.

One of them drove him forward with a great blow; Matho began to move.

They thrust their arms over the chains shouting out that the road had
been left too wide for him; and he passed along, felt, pricked, and
slashed by all those fingers; when he reached the end of one street
another appeared; several times he flung himself to one side to bite
them; they speedily dispersed, the chains held him back, and the crowd
burst out laughing.

A child rent his ear; a young girl, hiding the point of a spindle in her
sleeve, split his cheek; they tore handfuls of hair from him and strips
of flesh; others smeared his face with sponges steeped in filth and
fastened upon sticks. A stream of blood started from the right side of
his neck, frenzy immediately set in. This last Barbarian was to them a
representative of all the Barbarians, and all the army; they were taking
vengeance on him for their disasters, their terrors, and their shame.
The rage of the mob developed with its gratification; the curving chains
were over-strained, and were on the point of breaking; the people did
not feel the blows of the slaves who struck at them to drive them back;
some clung to the projections of the houses; all the openings in the
walls were stopped up with heads; and they howled at him the mischief
that they could not inflict upon him.

It was atrocious, filthy abuse mingled with ironical encouragements and
imprecations; and, his present tortures not being enough for them, they
foretold to him others that should be still more terrible in eternity.

This vast baying filled Carthage with stupid continuity. Frequently
a single syllable--a hoarse, deep, and frantic intonation--would be
repea